Regret Came Too Late

Outside, the snow kept falling. In the distance, the landscape was nothing but rubble, and beyond that, an endless stretch of bleak gray sky.

Ethan's fingers stayed locked with hers; the heat of his skin was a smoldering presence she couldn't ignore.

Grace didn't have it in her to be cruel-not when he asked so quietly to just be allowed this.

The minutes dragged painfully, and his fever only worsened.

Eventually, she couldn't sit still any longer. She reached for the bottle of water, ready to coax him into drinking again.

His eyes fluttered open-glazed, foggy, as if he wasn't sure where he was.

"Mr. Bennett's gone, Mr. Henderson. Let's head back first. Even if there's no medicine, lying down will be better than staying here," she reasoned.

Instead of responding, Ethan slowly dragged his tie, his movements sluggish from the fever.

Grace quickly pressed her hand against his chest to stop him and re-fastened the tie.

Normally, he was all sharp lines and strict precision, never leaving a button undone.

Grace lowered her eyes, fingers deftly tying the knot. She decided she wouldn't wait for Tim anymore-she would get Ethan back herself.

Just then, Ethan's scalding hand closed over hers.

"We're not going back," he rasped, his voice wrecked by the fever. "There are magnolias nearby... did you know?"

Grace had no clue where they were, only realizing more and more that he was completely out of it.

them, I'll go pick

eyes lit up instantly, hope

"What?" he said, surprised.

in disbelief-seriously? In

"Mr. Henderson..."

gloss it over, but he suddenly dropped her hand,

it," he

his forehead; even the

if I can't find any in ten minutes, I'm

gave a faint, weary smile as he hummed

Grace took crunched

after a few

back to the car

down. His face was still flushed with the fever, and his hair whipped around from the

fake it-wander a bit and grab

at him shattered that

of winter, he looked like some feral, red-draped spirit-fragile, powerful, and impossible

he made her want to do

would ever feel pity for him. And yet, here

for a response, she

minutes of wading through the.

were magnolias. They burned bright against the ghostly white of the world,

blinked in disbelief before

she brushed the delicate bloom, a rush of fragmented memories tore through

two children clung

jolted with tremor. She instinctively glanced around, then moved toward a

feet, she spotted a hollow in the