CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
DEAN
“DEAN.”
Her voice is sunlight through the blackness. A soft, gentle hand comes to rest on my cheek.
“Dean, love of my life. Open your eyes.”
I drag my eyes open. She’s right in front of me, her face filling my vision, her eyes brimming over with love and sorrow. The sight of her loosens the knot in my chest, but my blood is still trembling.
“Stand up,” Liv whispers, curling her fingers around my arms.
I struggle to shake off the fog. I’m still on the floor, slumped against the wall. My shirt is damp with sweat, my eyes burning and hands aching. Around me, the tower is wrecked—books and papers strewn everywhere, broken glass scattered on the floor, tables and chairs overturned.
I push to my feet, fighting a wave of dizziness. I move to collapse onto the sofa. Crush the horror of ever losing my wife.
Then Liv is there. Her arms surround me. The fragrant scent of her fills my head. My muscles constrict in automatic defense against the tangible reminder of what I could lose, but her power is too great. I sink against her. Bury my face in the warm arch of her neck.
Don’t leave. In the name of everything that’s holy, don’t you ever leave me.
Our breathing falls into the same rhythm. She takes the scarf off her head and presses it to the bloody cuts on my knuckles. I shift to my back, pulling her over me like a blanket. She spreads out on top of me, the curves of her body yielding. I drink in her softness, her warmth, the feel of her.
How many times have we slept like this? Or just lay together in this exact position, my arms locking her against my chest, my hand on the back of her neck, her head resting on my shoulder?
Countless times. Countless.
Liv turns, tucking her head beneath my chin. I close my eyes and breathe her in.
“Once upon a time,” she says, her breath warm on my neck, “there was a girl who lived in a lovely little village next to a river. She rented a room above the bakery where she worked. Her specialty was making elaborate houses. She made gingerbread houses decorated with multicolored candies and icing. She made log cabins out of chocolate-covered pretzel sticks, birdhouses covered with nuts and seeds, and she made a castle out of marshmallows and rock candy.
“The girl loved making houses, even though she didn’t have one of her own. Her confectionary houses were greatly admired among the villagers, and though the girl was lonely, she was happy.
“When she wasn’t baking, she spent her days in the garden behind the bakery or going for walks. The village was bordered by a forest, but because the villagers told tales of monsters, of people going in and never coming out, no one ever ventured into the woods.
“One day, the girl was picking mushrooms and flowers along the edge of the forest when an eastern storm descended on the village with sudden, violent fury. Lightning fell from the sky like swords, destroying farms and cottages, and the rain came so fast that floodwaters billowed over the shores of the river. The wind was the worst—ripping off rooftops, breaking windows, uprooting trees.
“The girl ran into the forest for safety, and the thick canopy of tree branches protected her from the storm. She stayed there for hours, but when she emerged, she found that the village had been destroyed. Everyone was gone, having either escaped or been taken by the storm.
“Remembering that she’d been safe in the forest, the girl hurried back, hoping maybe someone else had sought shelter there too. She walked deeper and deeper into the woods, looking for a friend, a fellow villager, anyone. But she was alone.
“And when she came to a stop, she realized she had lost her way. She kept walking forward, hoping she could find the other side of the forest, hoping she could find a companion.
“For months, she walked and walked, eating berries, drinking from streams, longing for shelter, a place where she could be happy again even if she was by herself.
“One morning at dawn she came to a clearing where, inexplicably, there stood a full-sized house made entirely out of snowy white paper. The girl was delighted. The paper walls had cut-out designs of intricate snowflakes and flowers, allowing the light and air to shine through.
“I could be happy here, the girl thought.
“She curled up on the floor to sleep, but that night it rained, and the girl woke to a soggy mess of wet paper. So she moved on. A few days later, she came upon another grove where a house made of red brick stood. Its walls were strong and unbreakable. Surely it could withstand the weather.
“I could be happy here, the girl thought.
“But when she went inside, she found the rooms were dark and cold. Not a single ray of sunlight could penetrate the fortress-like walls of the house. So the girl moved on.
“She came to another clearing where a bigger house stood, one made of thick, malleable vines twisted around oak logs. The vines moved to allow light into the house, and the walls felt solid and protective.
“I could be happy here, the girl thought.
“But it was a cold night, and when the girl woke she found that dozens of mice, squirrels, and insects had come through the gaps in the vines to seek shelter. The girl decided to leave the house to the woodland creatures, and she moved on.
“The next house was a strong, beautiful structure built of polished stones that felt smooth and warm beneath her palm. The house had windows of all shapes and sizes, some with brilliant, intricate stained-glass patterns the girl knew would take her years to fully decipher, like a puzzle with which she would never grow bored.
“The stone house had spiral staircases and rooms of all sizes, some big and filled with treasures—paintings, books, manuscripts, sculptures, and colorful tapestries that would endlessly fascinate her. There were smaller rooms, too, some with locked doors whose keys she would have to find for herself.
“The windows allowed in just the right amount of light, but the cool stone walls blocked out any scorching sun rays that might burn the girl. Although the house also kept out mosquitoes and flies, occasionally a bird flew inside, its sweet song following the girl and making her feel not so alone.
“In the very heart of the house was a fireplace, and that night the girl lit a fire whose heat flowed into every corner of every room. She wrapped herself in a quilt and lay on the floor, watching the flames leap and dance.
“Ah, the girl thought, just before she fell asleep, I am happy here.
“But when she woke, she opened her eyes and saw tree branches above her. She was lying on the leaf-strewn forest floor, and she was cold from the morning air. The house that had given her perfect shelter and had all the qualities for which she longed was gone.
“A rustling noise among the leaves caused her to sit up. From the woods emerged a tall, handsome man with dark hair and beautiful eyes the color of chocolate. He knelt beside the girl and told her he’d been enchanted by a wizard who was angry that he would never have the man’s nobility and strength.
“So the wizard trapped the man’s soul in the form of a house for years and years. Only if someone lit a fire at the heart of the house would the curse be broken.
“And because the girl had done just that, she’d freed the man’s soul and turned him back into himself again. And as she looked at him, the girl realized she hadn’t been looking for a house at all.
“She’d been looking for a home, one that made her feel warm and safe. A home with strong, unbreakable walls and brilliant glass windows that let in just the right amount of light and protected her from violent storms.
“She’d wanted a home that inspired her with its treasures, intrigued her with its secrets, one that even sometimes baffled and frustrated her with its locked doors. A home where only good dreams would flood her sleeping hours, and where she would find the courage to venture outward because she knew home would be waiting for her when she returned.
“She took the man’s hand, and the instant his fingers closed around hers she knew she had found her home with him. And the man knew he had been freed, that he would forever be warmed from the center of his heart.
“And so they lived and loved—with depth, passion, and happiness. They did not live without shadows, but the darkness they faced was like a night sky, a deep, rich black with a softness like velvet. And against this darkness, the stars shone so brightly they could see into eternity.”
A long silence falls.
“Liv.”
“Right here.”
“You… you live inside me.” I press a hand to my chest, my heart that beats in rhythm with hers. “Everywhere. You are the key to every part of me.”
“Except when you build walls that have no doors or locks.” She lifts her head, her eyes warm and gentle. “I can’t force my way in, Dean. You have to let me in.”
I have to keep her in, this woman who has all the power in the world over my pain. She’s my fire and my freedom. She’ll always be the girl who saved me.
“I will.” My voice is hoarse. “I promise.”
I tighten my arms around my wife. Sleep washes over me, heavy and unbroken.