CHAPTER 93: SLOW BORN LOVE CONFESSION

Ava placed the last stick on the pile, brushing her hands off on the sides of her jeans.

Her heart was still skipping, not from the walk but from him. Every step back from the woods had been a silent scream.

Azazel, still close, dropped the sticks beside hers and dusted off his palms. He didn’t speak, not a word since the puzzle comment, and that silence wasn’t helping her brain function any better.

Julie looked between them with an amused glint. "Thanks, you two. Perfect timing. Roman, you want to light it up?"

Roman nodded, pulling out a lighter from his pocket. "Already on it."

A flame flickered to life, crackling softly as it caught on the dry leaves and sticks.

Smoke curled gently upward, and the orange glow painted the small circle of faces in golden warmth.

Julie folded her arms and leaned into Roman’s side. "Finally. I’ve been waiting all day for this."

"You just wanted an excuse to sit outside and drink cocoa under the stars," he murmured.

She smiled at him, eyes sparkling. "So what if I did?"

Ava dropped onto the grass beside Julie, folding her knees up. Azazel stayed standing a little further behind, hands tucked in his back pockets.

Julie noticed. "Azazel. Sit. You’re hovering like a ghost."

Azazel’s brow twitched. "I’m good here."

"You’re not," Roman said, barely glancing his way. "Stop acting like you’re at a board meeting and sit."

Ava chuckled despite herself. Azazel shot his brother a look but lowered himself beside her without a word.

The distance between them was still polite, but the air wasn’t. It was tense.

Like a string pulled taut between their spines.

Julie pulled out marshmallows from a bag she had tucked under her cardigan.

"I brought these for a reason. Who’s going to roast them with me?"

"I will," Ava said quickly, almost too quickly. She took the stick Julie offered her like it was a lifeline.

Roman chuckled. "What is it with women and marshmallows?"

Julie rolled her eyes. "Don’t pretend you don’t love them burnt to a crisp."

Ava stuck her marshmallow over the fire and focused on it intently.

She didn’t even like marshmallows that much, but right now, burning something felt therapeutic.

Azazel didn’t move.

"You’re not roasting?" she asked, not looking at him.

"No."

"Too poetic for fire now?"

"No. Just... watching you," he said simply.

Julie nearly choked on her cocoa.

Ava froze. "You—what?"

Roman raised a brow. "Azazel."

"I’m being honest," Azazel said calmly.

Ava turned her head, slowly. "You need a new hobby."

"I had one. Then you showed up."

Julie smacked a hand to her forehead. "Oh my God."

Roman bit back a laugh. "Ava, do you want me to move him away from the fire for safety reasons?"

"No," Ava said quickly. "But maybe give him a stick to chew on instead of these lines."

Azazel smiled—really smiled—and something about it made her breath catch in her throat.

Julie leaned toward Roman and whispered, "Did he hit his head earlier?"

Roman whispered back, "He’s just being obvious for once."

The flames crackled.

Julie passed Ava another marshmallow. "Here. Burn out the weird tension."

Ava muttered, "Thanks."

She glanced at Azazel. He wasn’t watching the fire. He was watching the way the flames reflected in her eyes.

And that’s when Ava stood up.

"I need to walk," she said suddenly.

Julie looked up. "You okay?"

"I’m fine. Just... heat. Need air."

Without waiting, she turned and made her way back down the stone path, her fingers pressed to her temples.

Azazel stood.

Roman looked up. "Don’t."

Azazel didn’t listen.

Julie didn’t stop him either.

---

Ava walked faster as she neared the edge of the garden.

The stars above blinked against the night sky, and the moon spilled silver across the grass.

Her breaths came quick, uneven. What the hell was wrong with her?

She stopped under the lemon tree.

"Running from a conversation?"

Ava jumped, turning sharply. "Do you try to sneak up on people, or is it just a gift?"

Azazel shrugged, stepping into the moonlight. "You walk away. I follow. That’s the current pattern."

"You could change the pattern."

"I don’t want to."

She stared at him, then looked away. "You’re too intense."

"I’ve been told."

"It’s not a compliment."

"I didn’t take it as one."

She sighed, leaning against the tree trunk. "Then what are you doing, Azazel?"

"I don’t know yet. But I know I don’t want you to leave thinking I’m some kind of cruel joke."

"I didn’t think you were cruel. I thought you were... irritating."

He tilted his head. "Better. Still not great."

"You confuse me too," she said quietly.

That surprised him. "How?"

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Because one minute you’re guarded, and the next you say something that... makes me forget I should be annoyed with you."

Azazel took a step closer. "So I should be more annoying?"

"I’m serious."

"So am I."

They stared at each other, the silence stretching.

Ava finally whispered, "You really are a forest philosopher."

"And you..." He reached out, but didn’t touch her. His fingers hovered near her cheek. "You’re nothing like what I expected."

She looked up at him, her eyes soft but uncertain. "What did you expect?"

"Someone easy to ignore."

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. That look in his eyes—like she had rearranged something inside him—was too much. Too fast.

So she did the one thing she could.

She stepped back.

"I should go help Julie clean up."

Azazel didn’t follow.

But he didn’t stop watching.

---

Julie was pouring water on the fire when Ava returned.

Roman looked up first. "All good?"

Ava nodded, brushing her hair behind her ears. "Yeah."

Julie eyed her but said nothing.

Azazel didn’t come back to the fire.

And Ava didn’t ask why.

The dining room smelled like roasted vegetables, grilled chicken, and something faintly garlicky.

The golden light above the table glowed warmly against the polished wood, casting soft shadows on their plates.

Ava sat between Julie and an empty chair Roman had just stood from—probably off to grab wine.

Her fingers tugged nervously at the hem of the napkin in her lap.

She kept her eyes on the plate in front of her, scooping a small portion of mashed potatoes, though her appetite had run dry somewhere between the lemon tree and the walk back.

Azazel sat directly across from her.

Too directly.

He hadn’t said a word since they walked in, but she could feel his gaze like a brushstroke of heat across her cheek.

And no matter how many times she shifted or straightened or stirred the vegetables she wasn’t eating, the weight of it didn’t leave her skin.

Julie’s voice was light as she speared a piece of asparagus.

"Roman, remind me next time not to let you marinate the chicken overnight. I swear I just drank half a glass of vinegar with that bite."

"It’s called flavor," Roman replied dryly, returning with the wine bottle. "You people just don’t have refined palates."

Julie lifted an eyebrow. "You mean taste buds that like salt instead of acid?"

Roman poured her glass with a smirk. "Say thank you, chef."

"Thank you, chef," Julie said with mock submission, then rolled her eyes and smiled.

Ava’s fork scraped softly against the plate as she cut into her food, mostly to give her hands something to do. She still hadn’t looked up once.

Julie, of course, noticed.

"Ava," she said casually. "How’s the food?"

"Mm?" Ava blinked. "It’s good."

Julie watched her for a beat longer, then glanced across the table.

Azazel, arms folded loosely, was leaning back in his chair. He hadn’t touched his food either.

But he hadn’t taken his eyes off Ava.

Julie’s eyes narrowed.

Roman noticed too. He leaned toward his brother and said under his breath, "Stop staring like you’re trying to set her on fire."

Azazel didn’t flinch. "I’m not."

"Yeah, you are."

"She’s the one glowing," he said simply.

Julie choked on her water.

Ava’s grip on her fork tightened.

"You okay?" Julie asked her quickly, fighting a smile.

"Fine," Ava muttered, not lifting her head. She’d suddenly found a fascination with the roasted carrots on her plate.

They were very orange. Very perfectly sliced. Very not Azazel’s eyes, which she could still feel like embers tracing her skin.

Azazel shifted, the wood of the chair creaking softly. "You’re quiet," he said.

Ava gave a tight nod. "I’m eating."

"You weren’t earlier."

"I am now."

Julie watched the silent war unfold with thinly veiled interest, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth.

Roman just sighed. "I knew this dinner was going to be weird."

Azazel’s voice came lower, softer, but still audible. "You don’t have to avoid looking at me."

Ava stiffened.

Julie put down her fork. "You’re not helping."

"I’m not trying to," Azazel said, his eyes still locked on Ava. "I just want to know if she regrets talking to me."

Finally, Ava lifted her gaze. Slowly.

It landed on him—steadily, firmly—and there it was again. That invisible thread pulling taut between them.

Like the air around the table had paused for them, like everything else existed in a different room.

"I don’t regret it," she said quietly.

Azazel didn’t smile. But the sharpness in his features softened just enough.

Julie stared between them, her mouth slightly open. "Okay. I feel like I should leave the table or at least cover Roman’s eyes."

Roman reached over and took her wine glass. "Too late."

Ava looked down again, cheeks burning.

Azazel finally picked up his fork.

The tension didn’t disappear, but it folded into something quieter. Charged, but tucked neatly beneath the clinks of cutlery and sips of wine.

Julie leaned close to Roman and whispered, "Did we just witness a truce or a slow-burn love confession?"

Roman shrugged. "Same thing with those two."