How It's Meant to Be by T. S. Joyce

Author:T. S. Joyce [Joyce, T. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wicked Willow Press
Published: 2021-04-18T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

March 29th

Almost time. Getting closer. My belly is growing so much. Do they know how loved they are already? Can they feel it?

Chills rippled up Moore’s arms, and he closed the journal. He stared at his fireplace, chewing on the edge of his thumbnail. “I don’t know if I can do this,” he said out loud.

Usually, he kept his thoughts in his head, and dwelled in silence, but she was here—Aurora.

She poured the popcorn into the bowl and made her way around the kitchen counters. She didn’t say anything, just nestled her way between his legs and under the journal. She relaxed against his chest, all splayed across the entire couch.

“You may continue reading now. Out loud at your leisure, sir.”

Her hand brushed his neck and a painful spark zinged through him. He jumped and so did she.

“I feel like friends don’t do this,” he muttered, stroking her hair from her face, careful not to touch her skin.

“It’s our friendship, we can do whatever we want.”

“Mmmm,” he rumbled. He wouldn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t like that term anymore—friends. And he really didn’t like that they hurt each other with touch.

He wished she was the one—not just because of the power it would give him, but because she made him feel…well…she made him feel.

“I’ve never had peace,” he admitted softly.

She ran her finger down the spine of the journal he held in his hands in front of her. Aurora’s nail was painted a soft lavender. His favorite color had been black until now. “That’s sad,” she said.

“I just want to keep it tonight. Just one night.”

“Why can’t you keep it longer?” she asked, twisting and lifting those soft brown eyes to his.

“Because the crows will be coming.”

There was worry in her eyes and he didn’t like it, so he handed her the journal. “You read it.”

“Out loud?”

“Yes. It won’t be hard if it’s in your voice.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

The popcorn smelled good, and the fire crackled in the hearth, and she was so warm and soft against him. So fragile. So important. The paper of the old journal rustled as she turned to the page he’d marked with a little scrap of paper. She cleared her throat quietly.

“March twenty-ninth, almost time, getting closer. My belly is growing so much. Do they know how loved they are already? Can they feel it? Cyrus is worried. There are crows in the trees, always watching. Waiting, but we’re good. We’re the good ones. He keeps having meetings with them. Trying to explain. We will raise our cubs different than we were taught. Our numbers are zero. We’ve worked so hard to keep them at zero.” Aurora swallowed hard before she continued. “The crows killed our families. They killed so many, but we try to keep peace. God, let us have peace. There’s something so lonesome about being the last two left. Last two bears. But not now. Now there will be more and we won’t be alone. If the crows allow it, we won’t be alone.

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