Everglen always shined too bright.
At least, that’s what Sophie always thought, and maybe she was making it up, but as she stepped out of the beam of light, with Keefe’s slightly shaky hand in her own, she had to shy away.
The fence, tall and standing over her in all its glory, glowed with an intenseness that instantly gave her a headache. The sun didn’t help, and she was momentarily blinded.
Swaying, she gripped the nearest thing to her--which happened to be the hand she was still holding.
“Are you okay?” Keefe asked, steadying her, and she felt lightheaded all over again with the sneaking suspicion it had nothing to do with the fence and everything to do with the boy she was leaning up against.
“Yes,” she breathed, closing her eyes for the count of three and willing, praying, hoping that she wasn’t telling a lie. “The fence is a little bright, is all.”
Keefe tilted his head and turned to look, like in all the times he had been there, he’d never considered it. “Huh,” was his reply, and Sophie suddenly wanted to laugh.
She had a bad habit of that, laughing at things that weren’t funny.
“You good, now?” he asked, holding up their clasped hands as a gentle reminder that she was still gripping his fingers, hard.
She nodded, feeling like her face was on fire, and pulled away.
But she couldn’t make her feet move. She stared at the fence, the giant, massive fence, and everything felt closed in. Like she wasn’t there. Like she could never be there.
“Woah, hey,” Keefe’s voice flooded her ears, and she would have turned to look at him if she could move. He grabbed her hand, again, and squeezed it softly, moving in front of her. She stared into his cool, ice-like eyes, feeling her heart beat out of her chest. “What's wrong?” he asked, softly, gently.
“Nothing,” she mumbled, finally shifting her eyes to the ground.
“I’m an Empath. I know what fear feels like,” Keefe said. “The question is, why?”
She could have answered him. She really could've. But how did she explain that the day had hardly started and already she wanted to quit, wanted to take a walk in the forest, get lost, and never come out again?
And on top of that, he might not even understand why. It’d been impulsive to tell him Fitz had stood her up, impulsive and stupid, yet she had. How to explain that it was so much more? How to tell him that despite the fact she knew all along that she was overreacting to it, she couldn’t stop?
So instead of being honest, like she knew she should have, she carefully lifted her eyes and stared into his. “I’m not scared,” she told him, pointedly, and she knew he could feel the lie like a blow to his teeth.
He looked down at her, quiet for several moments. Eventually he must have found what he was looking for, because he nodded and dropped her hand, glancing away. “Okay.”
For some reason, Sophie hadn’t expected him to give up that quick. She stood there, somewhat stunned, and isn’t that all she ever felt? Shell-shocked? Tired?
She wanted to thank him for dropping the topic, but she didn’t say anything else as she turned back towards the massive fence, starting the long walk.
After a moment she heard Keefe following.
It was silent for what felt like too long, but Sophie ignored it as she finally reached the fence, ringing the buzzer. Waiting.
Keefe stood just behind her. If she fell back, she’d fall into his chest, maybe right over his heart.
For a moment she entertained the idea, but then Biana was there, smiling and opening the door.
“Sophie, Keefe,” she greeted, and her cheerful voice seemed to shatter whatever spell Sophie had been under.
“Hi,” she said, offering a gentle smile. Biana grinned back, then turned to Keefe. “Haven’t seen you around in a while, how have you been?”
He blinked, slowly. Smiled. “Good,” he answered, voice somewhat gruff for reasons Sophie couldn’t explain. “You?”
Biana’s smile was infectious. “Oh, you could say I've been doing well.”
Keefe chuckled. “I heard about this Tam guy,” he told her, and the way he looked at her was not unlike the way a brother might look at his younger sister: something like love.
“You told him?” Biana gasped, turning to Sophie.
Sophie let a smile show. “I did no such thing,” she denied, shaking her head.
Biana huffed, tossing her hair over her shoulder and turning to her house. “Yeah, yeah,” she grumbled, and Sophie couldn’t resist laughing as she followed, Keefe next to her.
“Let it be known that Fitz was the one to tell me, not Sophie,” Keefe said.
“That traitor,” Biana mumbled.
With that the walk went silent again, but it was far more comfortable as they neared the house. The glittering mansion never failed to amaze Sophie, and she shielded her eyes from the sparkling crystal as they walked up to the porch, Biana holding the door for them.
“Fitz and Tam are in the kitchen,” she explained once they were inside.
She started walking down a side hallway, but stopped when she realized Sophie wasn’t following.
“Soph?” she questioned, walking closer, but Sophie couldn’t hear her. Her head felt filled with bees, her heart pounding against her ribcage.
Fitz. She was going to see Fitz.
What would she say? How would she act? She’d been ignoring him for a week, and last they’d talked she’d hung up on him. He was going to be so mad.
And the worst thing was, she knew he had every right to be so. She’d been a terrible friend the past few days, she knew it in all her being, but she hadn’t been able to stop.
And now she was about to see him.
It felt like the air had been knocked out of her lungs. It felt like a bullet hole in her stomach that she wanted to hide.
It felt like what she knew of love, and she hated it.
Someone grabbed her arm, softly, and she turned her head to see Keefe, looking down at her through concerned eyes. She stared back, unable, unready, and suddenly wishing he wasn’t an Empath.
“Biana,” Keefe said, and he said something else, too, but his words flowed to Sophie like they were underwater. Whatever it was, she watched Biana nod and turn away, her dress swishing at her ankles as she turned a corner.
Then she was alone with Keefe.
Sophie stared down the hall, not listening to whatever she was sure Keefe was saying. She focused on her breathing, on trying to calm her heart, on trying to still her shaking hands.
It was hard, for no real reason, especially because Sophie kept thinking how people tended to breathe very easily without much of a problem, yet here she was, consciously thinking in, out, in, out. She kept messing up, and she wanted to stop out of frustration, but she refused.
Something cold touched her, and she looked down to see Keefe’s hand, trailing her forearm, stopping at her fingers. He grabbed them, softly, and finally she looked up at him, still gasping.
He moved her hand, slowly, to his chest, and in any other scenario she would have flushed crimson, but all she wanted to do was breathe.
And. . . this was helping.
The thought was barely formed when Keefe whispered, softly, “Try to follow my lead. You’re doing great.”
Sophie couldn’t see how that could be true when she kept messing up, but the praise seemed to motivate her, a little, and she pressed her hand more firmly against him. It took a moment to match her breathing to the steady rise and fall of her fingers, but eventually she did it.
“There you are,” he said, softly, a hint of a smile dusting his lips. “You had me worried.”
Talking felt strange, but silence was suddenly so much worse, so Sophie said, “I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t sure what for, but it felt like it needed to be said.
“No,” Keefe whispered. “That’s not . . . you don’t need to . . .” he huffed, lost for words, but somehow that helped more than anything he could ever have said, because Sophie was suddenly giggling, softly, behind her hand.
And then Keefe was laughing with her, and the moment felt perfect.
“You,” he gasped. “I couldn’t even finish!”
“That’s your fault!”
And they collapsed into giggles, falling over each other, like the broken mess they were.
“I guess we both have a problem with that,” Keefe said, gaining back his breath.
Sophie froze, suddenly. “A problem with what?”
“With saying sorry. With apologies when they’re not needed.”
She frowned, glancing away. She wanted to insist that no, she didn't have a problem with it. But she didn't feel like lying. “Sometimes it just feels like the thing you need to say.”
Keefe stared at her, face flushed. He looked down, suddenly, staring at the ground in sharp contradiction to the former wheezing laugh he’d been heaving. “Maybe,” he agreed, softly.
Sophie tried not to get hung up on that word.
“Are you okay, now?” Keefe asked, clearing his throat.
Sophie sighed, running her fingers on her wrists. She realized that in all their laughing, Keefe had let go of her hand. “Not really,” she admitted. “But it’ll be fine.”
The way he cocked his head reminded her of a bird, and she focused on that as he told her, “It could be. But it would be a whole lot easier if you had a friend.”
She blinked. “A friend?”
Keefe smiled, nodded. “Yeah. Luckily, you have me, which is the next best thing.”
She wanted to ask how a friend would help. Instead, she found herself saying, “You’re my friend,” with more conviction than she meant to put in her voice.
He looked at her, puzzled. “I don’t have friends,” he told her, slowly, and her heart burned.
“Oh,” was all she could think to say, the word inviting so many other feelings in.
“But, if you want,” he added, softly, face flushing red, and Sophie couldn’t keep the smile from her face.
“Of course,” she said, reaching for his hand.
He flinched, slightly, pulling away. He looked up at her through wide eyes, almost scared, and Sophie swallowed her concern.
She had almost forgotten that yesterday, there had been a bleeding, broken boy sitting in her bedroom.
“Sorry.”
He shook his head, face morphing back into his normal sense. “Stop apologizing,” he told her. “I’m fine.”
She doubted that was true. She knew it wasn’t true, yet she decided to let it go.
Wait until later, she told herself.
“Seriously, though, are you okay?” Keefe asked, slowly. He lowered his voice. “I know Fitz is here--”
“I’m not worried about Fitz,” she interrupted, loudly.
She was, but that was besides the point.
Keefe stared at her, and Sophie was hit with the distant feeling that silence was a key factor in a conversation. “Okay,” he finally whispered, and turned away, walking down the hall.
It was a moment before Sophie could follow. And even when she did, her hands would not stop shaking.
She got the impression that she’d done something wrong, yet she didn’t know what. Anxiety clawed at her, and by the time she’d caughten up with Keefe, they were right outside the kitchen doors.
“Wait,” she said, grabbing his hand, stopping him from continuing. It was a moment before she realized what she’d done, and her face flushed.
She opened her mouth to apologize, but caught Keefe’s look. Instead, she gulped down air and mumbled, “Maybe I’m a little nervous about Fitz.”
Keefe blinked, squeezing her fingers for a moment before realising it. He ran his hand through his hair before saying, “I thought so.”
“It’s just,” she started, then hesitated, leaning against the wall. It was cool, even through her tunic, and she welcomed the feeling. It was grounding. “What am I going to say?”
“Well, you could start with ‘Why on Earth would you do that to me, you stupid hairy sasquatch?’” Keefe suggested, and Sophie let out a laugh before she could stop it.
“I could do that,” she giggled, quietly. But the feeling died quickly.
Keefe smiled softly, moving to lean against the wall next to her. “But?” he prompted.
Sophie sighed, letting her eyes fall to her shoes. There was a small bit of mud on the top. “ But . . . I don’t want him to hate me.”
The last words came out as a whisper.
Everything was silent, for a moment, and Sophie could hear Biana laughing from the next room.
“He won’t,” Keefe finally said, slowly. “He’d be an idiot if he did, anyway. But he won’t.”
“How do you know?” She felt so dumb, so stupid asking Keefe questions like this. When had she ever decided to be so vulnerable around him?
But . . . when had she ever decided to be vulnerable around anyone?
It had been so long, she realized, startling. Too long, probably, but she was hesitant to start now. She wanted to shove all the words back into her mouth.
“I don’t--” Keefe admitted.
“Great,” Sophie interrupted in exasperation, throwing her hands toward the ceiling.
“-- but, ” Keefe continued, “I’m an Empath. If there was any sort of strong enough anger to be called hatred, I would feel it, even without physical contact.”
Sophie blinked. She tried not to think about that, because how overwhelming would it be to feel other people’s feelings? She could barely manage her own, she couldn’t imagine it.
“I’m just not sure,” she finally said, because she was stubborn and hard to convince.
Keefe nodded, pushing away from the wall. “Fair enough. But when we go in there and you two talk and you see how right I was, I expect an apology, alright?”
Sophie rolled her eyes, but secretly she was grateful her parents had suggested she bring Keefe. How else would she have gotten through this?
“Thank you,” she told him, sincerely, pushing out from the wall, too.
“You’re quite welcome,” he answered, bowing, and though it was stupid and reminded her of a young teenager she giggled anyway.
“After you,” he said, and he put his hand on the door handle. Waited a beat while Sophie took a deep breath, waited until she nodded at him.
Then he pushed it open.
The moment felt so significant, but really Sophie had walked through those same doors too many times to count, and this time was exactly the same, except she avoided Fitz’s piercing teal eyes instead of seeking them out. The kitchen lay before her, and she focused on Biana, who was leaning against the counter, talking to a boy with dark, silky hair and pale skin.
Fitz stood off to the side, but before Sophie could gather the courage to look at him, Keefe had draped his arm around her shoulders and was pulling her towards Biana.
“Sophie!” Biana greeted, excited. She jumped up and tugged on Sophie’s other side and together the three of them walked towards the counter.
“Tam,” Biana stated, nodding at the boy in front of her. He offered a tiny smile, which helped lighten the bags beneath his eyes. His silvertipped hair slipped over his forehead and he pushed it away. Sophie smiled back. “Sophie,” Biana told Tam, nodding back at Sophie. “Keefe,” she continued on, “and all of you know Fitz already.”
Sophie nodded and tried not to let on how true that statement was.
“Tam, huh?” Keefe asked, eyeing him. “Cool bangs.”
Which, from Keefe, was high praise.
Tam just shrugged. “They were done out of pure rebellion.”
“To who?” Keefe asked, and he seemed genuinely curious.
The other boy smiled. “My parents.”
Sophie blinked, glancing at Keefe, wondering how he would react to this. Any mention of parents seemed to be a little dangerous around him, she had learned.
She’d heard from Biana a lot of what had happened to Tam, and while the abuse he obviously had suffered didn’t seem physical, it was still pretty serious.
Though, Tam seemed to be doing well. The Council had already been made aware of the situation, and the overwhelming evidence, according to Biana, had forced them to side in Tam’s favor, resulting in his and his twin sister’s adoption by Tiergan, a family friend.
Keefe took a while to blink, but when he did, his face lit with a smile. Sophie couldn’t tell whether it was fake or not, especially when Keefe said, “Maybe I should try that. It might get my dad off my case.”
And, for the first time since Sophie entered the room, Fitz spoke. In the same deep, stunning voice that Sophie had fallen in love with, he asked, “Has your dad been worse than usual?”
Sophie focused on keeping her eyes on Keefe, watching his back straighten. He glanced at her for a fleeting moment, then to Fitz, then Tam, then Biana. “He’s been tolerable,” he managed, face flushing, and Sophie was instantly overcome with the urge to hug him.
“So, that’s a yes, then,” Biana concluded. Sophie’s eyes found the path to her. She had forgotten that, while Biana had tried to deny it, the Vackers had known Keefe for a while. Longer than Sophie had, by a few years.
Keefe shrugged and refused to say any more, so the room was plunged into awkward silence until Tam turned to Keefe and asked, directly, “Why is your dad on your case?”
Biana gasped and smacked Tam lightly on the back of his head, glaring at him. “Tam,” she scolded. “You can’t just ask someone that, that’s personal.”
Tam shrugged, and maybe it was because the conversation was starting to get embarrassing, or Keefe just never knew what to say in situations like these. Whatever it was that possessed him, it made him say, “Oh, he’s always mad at me for one thing or another. There’s not much you can do right with him around, except sitting still and not breathing too loud.”
His words hung in the air, and Sophie worked hard to keep the horror from her face, because he didn’t even know that what he had said was worrisome, he didn’t know the alarm bells ringing in everyone’s head right now.
Keefe slowly looked at everyone’s expression, lost, slightly, and definitely embarrassed, until his eyes met Sophie’s. “Not good?” he whispered.
Sophie managed to shake her head. Not good. Not good at all.
He sighed, looking at the rest of the group. “Joking,” he told them, as if that made it any better.
Biana simply stared, squeezing Tam’s shoulder, and Tam himself looked moderately uncomfortable. And Fitz . . .
Well, this time, Sophie hadn’t been able to stop herself from looking, and she immediately regretted it.
He was already staring at her. His tan, clear skin seemed to actually sparkle in the light, and he was dressed in an expensive looking jerkin and pants. His hair was combed back, and his posture told of magnificence.
But it was his eyes, always his eyes, that Sophie couldn’t help looking at.
The teal was beautiful, a mix between blue and green and something amazing. She could never seem to find the same shade of the color in the store or jewelry shops, and when her own eyes found their way to them her heart actually stilled; she shivered and couldn’t look away.
“So, Keefe,” Fitz said, but his eyes stayed glued to Sophie. “I hear you’ve gotten a job.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie saw Keefe nod. He seemed grateful for the subject change. “Yes,” he breathed, and finally, finally Sophie tore her eyes away from Fitz. “I work at Havenfield, actually.”
“So Biana tells me,” Fitz said. “Do you like it?”
“He doesn’t like feeding the animals,” Biana jumped in, her smile telling of mischievous things.
Keefe gasped and turned to Sophie, pressing a hand to his heart. “You told her?”
Sophie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, and it felt so good. It felt like healing. “I couldn’t resist,” she admitted, because unlike earlier she actually had told her.
“What’s this about feeding animals?” Tam asked, glancing at Keefe, then Sophie.
Biana opened her mouth to explain, but Keefe beat her to it. “Nothing, nothing! It’s really not that important.”
“See, but now I’m all curious.”
“See, but I don’t really care,” Keefe shot back, and he cast a glare at Sophie. “I can’t believe you would betray me like that.”
Stifling a smile, she patted his shoulder. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?”
He pretended to think about it, or, at least, Sophie assumed it was pretend, until his face bloomed into a brilliant smile. “Of course, Foster.”
Sophie opened her mouth to respond, but someone cut her off.
“Speaking of forgiving,” Fitz said, and he sounded tired. “I need to talk to you.”
Sophie wasn’t looking at him, but she knew he was talking to her. Who else?
And, wasn't this just strange? Because as much as Sophie knew this was going to happen, she suddenly felt so unprepared. So unready.
She should be well adjusted, too, because she could quite literally play what was about to happen in her head. Fitz would smile, and ask to speak with her alone. He would lead her numb body to some room, maybe his own. They would stand there in silence, staring at each other, or maybe at the floor. Then he would say how he was so sorry and to please forgive him, please. Then Sophie would blink and tug on her eyelashes and feel tears burn but she would, ultimately, give in. Like she always did. And she would add the whole experience to the list of things that Fitz had done that she had to ignore if she didn’t want to get hurt.
Like the time they had gone to a party together and he had left her alone the whole night.
Or the time he invited her over for a movie night and had failed to tell her he had also invited all his friends.
Or when he had asked her to buy blue eye drops to wear while they were in public.
Or the many instances he had flirted with other girls in front of her.
Or every single time he had lost his temper and said things he “hadn’t meant.”
But . . . he was also so sweet. So gentle, sometimes, when Sophie didn’t make him upset, and she fell in love with him all over again.
It was a cycle and it left her utterly drained. But on the occasions he hugged her, on the days he alluded to the fact that he wanted to make their relationship official, when she locked eyes with him across the room, she felt better. Kind of like she was flying, floating above everything and nothing bad could ever get to her again.
“Sophie?” Fitz prodded, and she realized she’d been staring at him for a while, now. Not unusual, she supposed, but it had been a long time and maybe he had forgotten.
“Sure,” she breathed, like she was telling her fate.
But it wasn’t. She told herself that saying that didn’t mean she would forgive him. That she could walk away at any time with clear thoughts and a high head. With confidence. He would talk and she would listen but it wouldn’t mean anything because it never did anyway.
This doesn’t decide it, she told herself as Fitz led her away and she refused to look at the other friends she was leaving behind. This doesn’t mean I’ll forgive him. It doesn’t.
But she knew she was telling herself a lie.