The words of Dr. Reynolds echo through my memory. Not all men are bad. Be cautious, but also be open to enjoying what a healthy relationship can feel like, physically and mentally.

I exhale the breath I was holding while my mind and body struggled. “It’s called taro,” I finally say, enjoying his skeptical face as he inspects the straw.

“Bubbles are fucked up enough, but purple too?” He shakes his head and holds the drink up again.

“Try it.” I take a sip of mine, my eyes still peeking up at him. “It’s good. Trust me.”

A small, crooked grin touches his lips, making him look like a little boy who’s up to no good. It’s not a smile, though, so it doesn’t count toward my goal.

“You sure this is safe?” he asks.

“I promise.”

I watch him take a sip and suck one of the bubbles up through the wide straw. Out here, in the daylight, I can see the jagged, leathery scars that run along the side of his face, disappearing beneath his hair, and a scar in the shape of a jagged X at his throat. Something happened to him. Something bad. More scars are visible on the back of his hand and his fingers, wrapped around the plastic cup, the skin rippled and rough-looking. A gust of wind blows his hair away from his face, and he quickly looks down and to the side so his hair falls back over his scars. Then slowly, he raises his head back into the wind, letting his curtain of hair fan away from his scarred forehead, cheeks, and neck. His eyes meet mine as he sucks the tea up the straw, waiting for my reaction. He’s letting me see him. I breathe slowly, watching him, seeing him clearly for the first time. He’s more beautiful than I originally thought, and it makes my heart actually swell and ache.

“Well?” I ask when he pulls the straw from his lips, a quarter of the drink gone.

“It’s a good weird.” He mimics my words, winks at me, and pops one of the bubbles in his mouth.

A big smile curves my lips. “I’m glad you like it. I don’t work there any more.” He raises a questioning eyebrow at me, and I continue. “I had an…episode and they let me go.”

“Episode?”

Sighing, I watch a small windmill at the edge of his yard spin in the wind. “It’s stupid, really. I was working alone, and a bunch of people came in all at once. I got stressed, knocked some dishes over, had an anxiety attack, and passed out. They called an ambulance.”

“That happen often?”

If I tell him the truth, will he think badly of me? Will he think I’m a mess?

“I guess I feel overwhelmed sometimes. I’m not used to…people. Or doing things. Or much of anything, honestly, but I’m trying. I don’t pass out much, though. That was only like the second time in the past year.”

“You shouldn’t be walking around the woods alone. It’s not safe. You do know that, right?”

I think about it, sipping my drink. He’s right, but the difference is that with Tyler here with me, it feels like a different place. To me, these aren’t the same woods that haunt my dreams, where my nightmares, both in reality and in sleep, took place. Here, with Tyler, this is the forest I read about in books and daydreamed about for so long. These trees, this soil, this everything, is part of my happily ever after. I can feel it. I’m not going to tell him that, though.

“No, not really,” I finally say.

He doesn’t blink; his sky-blue eyes never leave me.

“Believe it or not, I’m not scared here, even though I know you found me not far from here, and I was kept in a dirty basement just a few miles from here. Hearing the birds chirping, seeing the clouds through the trees, even the breeze here is…comforting. It almost feels like home. I feel safer here than I do anywhere else.”

Slowly, he nods. “I hear ya.”

He lights up another cigarette, and I have to fight myself to not ask him why he smokes so much and tell him how unhealthy it is. It’s possible he fell asleep while smoking…maybe lit his bed on fire and woke up in a fiery inferno. I shudder.

“Why you keep coming back here?” he suddenly asks, and I get the feeling it’s been on his mind.

Because you’re my prince. You just don’t know it yet.

There’s no annoyance or accusation in his voice, but embarrassment still flushes my cheeks. “I miss Poppy. He was all I had for years. Just me and him.” We both look over at Poppy, lying in the sunlight next to the fox, who’s lying on his back, looking at us upside down.

“I really don’t have anywhere else to go,” I admit. “I don’t have any friends, well, except for my roommate.” I pause under the intensity of his stare. “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be doing, like I missed that part in life where you decide what you’re going to do.” I pull my sweater sleeves farther down over my palms. “I meant what I said, as crazy as it might sound. I like it here in the woods. With you. I like hearing you talk. When you do. And I wanted to see if you would smile.”