Hushed Willows girl in new york

olive, too sweet for words. he chuckled devilishly (as if to refute her point) and continued to nibble, only ceasing when she launched into her story. cortez let out a gusty sigh, straddling the line between amused and irritated. yes, he remembered. like it was yesterday.

calder thought it was fun, he remarked, rolling his eyes. it was terrifying! two little boys, trapped by a fox? who knows what could have happened. maybe this was why his brother had always been the adventurer, and he the shadow in calder's wake. bravery in the face of danger. cortez had never been given that particular strength.

he smiled. mother made a big deal over it, too, cortez recalled, his voice wistful. she fussed and fretted—over me, especially, because i was scared. i always loved when i got attention. a nice change, he said, an addendum that might have been acrid had it not been delivered wrapped in laughter.

but there was truth in it. he'd always felt. . .not neglected, but overlooked. the quiet one of the boys, more girlish than masculine. head in the clouds. cortez always latched fervently onto any attention his parents gave him.