Sage

The cold morning air sneaks into the lean-to, but I’m in no hurry to leave the warmth of Dash’s arms. We lie close, our faces inches apart, wrapped in the comfort of the blankets, and even though I know the day’s demands will catch up with us soon enough, I let myself linger here, in this moment. It’s strange. We’ve been sharing space for less than a week, yet, this feels normal and right. I push aside that reality, and decide to not think too much about it.

Dash shifts slightly, his arm tightening around me, and his eyes open, a soft smile appearing as he meets my gaze. “Think we can pretend it’s a day off?” he murmurs, his voice low and sleepy.

I chuckle, nudging his shoulder gently. “If only.” I pause, letting the silence settle, before sighing. “There’s something I wanted to talk to you about, actually. It’s about Mara… and the Sovereign Accord.”

Dash’s expression sharpens, his attention focused. “What about Mara?”

I pull the blanket closer, considering my words carefully. “You know how they are, Dash—when Reeves and his people come around, they always look for excuses to take women with them, claiming they’ll protect them or keep them in line. We’ve managed to keep the younger women safe by saying they’re already ‘courted’ or spoken for, as ridiculous as it sounds, but… Mara’s different. She’s widowed, and without that same ‘protection,’ they might see her as an easy target.”

Dash’s brow furrows, a frown deepening. “I see what you mean.” He nods slowly, thinking. “And you’re worried Reeves might focus on her next time.”

“Exactly.” I sigh, feeling the weight of it pressing on my chest. “I was thinking… maybe Branson could help. He’s unmarried, and if he agreed to, well… maybe we could suggest that he and Mara have some sort of formal arrangement. I know it’s not ideal, but it might be enough to keep her safe.”

Dash considers this for a moment, his eyes thoughtful as he looks back at me. “You’re probably right. If Branson agreed to it, it could give her the protection she needs. Have you talked to him about it yet?”

I shake my head. “Not yet. I wanted to run it by you first. But if I do talk to him, would you come with me? I think it would help if he heard it from both of us.”

Dash nods without hesitation, his gaze steady. “Of course. Branson’s a practical guy—if he sees the value in it, he’ll listen. And Mara’s worth the effort. We’ll figure it out.”

His reassurance calms some of the tension knotting in my chest. I reach over, covering his hand with mine. “Thanks, Dash. It’s… comforting knowing I’m not trying to handle all this alone.”

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He gives a small smile, his thumb brushing over my hand. “That’s what I’m here for, Sage. We’re in this together.”

The silence settles back over us, warm and comforting, but there’s a question that’s been floating in my mind for days, something I’ve wanted to ask but haven’t quite found the right moment for. Lying here with him, feeling the quiet between us, I can’t help but wonder if this is the time to finally ask.

I shift a little, watching his face, letting myself study the lines of his expression, the steady, calm focus that seems to come so naturally to him. “Dash?”

He turns his head to look at me, his gaze soft. “Yeah?”

I hesitate, feeling the weight of my own curiosity, but I press forward. “Can I ask you something? I mean… it’s just, you talk to me now. You’ve started to open up, sharing things, and… I was just wondering why you were so quiet before. You’ve barely said a word to me in the many months we knew each other. I’ve literally talked with and gotten to know everyone here except you.”

He shifts a little, as if gathering his thoughts, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face. “It wasn’t just with you,” he says after a moment. “I was… quieter with everyone, I guess.”

I can’t help the smirk that crosses my face. “I know. I used to think of you as selectively mute.”

He smiles at this.

“But why?” I ask gently, not wanting to push but hoping he’ll let me in.

Dash’s gaze drifts, his eyes tracing a line somewhere past me, as though he’s watching memories unfold. “I was never much of a talker.” He hesitates, his voice softening. “Remember, I told you my sister was deaf? We were only a year apart and I convinced my parents to let me go to deaf school with Allie. My friends were deaf. I got used to not saying much aloud. Talking just felt… unnecessary, I guess.”

I nod, looking at him with a different understanding with this piece of his history. He surprised me when he continued.

“After the bombs, Allie and…and Marie were gone. So, I kept to myself. Got used to the silence. Sometimes it was easier to just be alone with it,” he shrugs as if what he just shared wasn’t huge.

I listen, absorbing the words, feeling the weight of what he’s sharing. It’s like a small piece of him, something raw and unguarded, and I hold onto it, knowing what it means that he’s telling me this now. I also wonder about who Marie is. He and I still know so little of one another’s pasts.

“But with you… I don’t know.” He speaks again, cutting into my thoughts. He looks back at me, his expression thoughtful, almost searching. “Something changed. I didn’t plan on it, but… it just happened. At first I thought that it would be rude to be totally silent with you when we are around each other, but then…I don’t know.” He looks almost as confused by the turn of events as I have been.

His words settle between us, and I feel a warmth growing in my chest, a quiet understanding that makes me want to reach out and hold onto him, as if I can somehow share the weight he’s carried for so long. “It’s weird, huh?” I say softly, squeezing his hand. “But, I’m glad you have started talking. I like what you have to say.”

He smiles, and it’s a gentle, almost shy expression that I haven’t seen from him before. For a moment, we’re both quiet again, but it’s a different kind of silence—one filled with trust, something steady and real that’s growing between us, unspoken but understood.