His words do not settle well within me. I'll find a way, he said, and all I can hear is what he's not saying—me sitting by idly while he takes on the task.

I can't just sit around and let him attempt to mend this tear in our society. I am not a woman of inaction—not any longer. I recoil at the thought of my past self, following others around blindly.

"You can't fix everything," I argue, a sense of hopelessness creeping out of the darkest corners of my heart. "You're only one person and who knows how many of them are out there." I stand, walking to the edge of the roof. The trees grow in waves, blanketing the foothills of the mountainside in a green so dark, it looks black. "Nothing. Years, decades of work you have spent to end the Skinwalker threat, and if this doesn't work, it's all led up to nothing."

"That isn't true," he denies, offense coloring his tone. I turn to find that Luke is on his feet now. "Every day we're fighting a little harder, growing a bit stronger. We've been gaining ground."

I fight a scoff. "By mere inches," I mumble. What will be left of the Outlands when the people give up fighting? When they starve? Grow old?" My voice is harsh, even to my own ears. I don't mean for it to be, but I can't stop the gloom and foreboding from clutching me in its gray grasp. The weight of failure is suffocating me.

Luke looks as if he swallowed something foul-tasting. "Is that what you think? That we're such a weak, vulnerable lot?" He searches my face for a moment. "We may very well be. But we do not abandon hope. If we had, we would be dead a very long time ago."

"What do you know of hope?" I counter, and at the chagrin on his face, immediately regret it.

"Go then! I don't need anyone's pity. I don't care," he snaps, voice tight. He turns, as if he can't bear to look at me. It slashes up my heart to see him so defensive, and even knowing that I did this, even though I know I brought this to a head, I can't backpedal fast enough.

This is my fault, and I just can't keep my mouth shut.

"You protect your heart by pretending you don't have one," I accuse, meaning more than this conversation alone. The air between us is electrified. "But I see through that, I see how much you do care. About your people, the trees and the creatures of the forest." I take one micro breath. "Even me. When we first met, you told me to be careful. You cared, even for a stranger."

Luke's hardened expression falters, his throat dipping. "You know I much more than care for you." His voice is low and dangerous, and my insides twist, our argument quickly morphing into something much more personal.

"It doesn't matter," my tongue deceives, even when my chest screams that it in fact matters so terribly much. "I don't deserve you," I choke, stuffing my heart back down my throat. "And I'm from inside the wall. We could never work."

He flinches and I know I've stung him. I didn't mean to, but that is all the reason why we shouldn't be doing this. Why we can't allow this to go any further.

I'll only end up hurting him more. Just like last time, the lies burn my tongue.

"That's bull, and you know it," he growls, stepping toward me. "You've known who I was since we first met out there in those woods. If you truly meant that, then we never would have done this in the first place." He closes the distance between us, dipping his head down to meet my eyes. "You would feel nothing but repulsion for me."

Gently, he brings his hand up to brush his fingers along my cheekbone, testing, caressing my skin in a way that makes my heart flutter and seize all at once. "Your cheeks wouldn't be so rosy. Your heart wouldn't be beating so fast." His voice is low and rough with ardor. "You would be running away at the sight of me."

I meet his eyes and my resolve threatens to dissipate when I see the raw vulnerability in their verdurous depths.

"But here you are," he whispers, "still wanting me half as much as I want you."

All hope is lost when he leans in and brushes his lips across mine.

I want to cry, to scream and thrash and revolt against the unfairness of it all. Because this thing between us—this everything feels so right, as if we were meant to be all along and the world had deceived us.

My mind echoes with a line from the movie Luke and I watched: Do you ever wonder why things have to turn out the way they do? And the wheels in my head whir and spin with possibility.

Is it really so unorthodox? Is it such an aberration to desire one from a vastly different background? One of such a stark contrast when compared to everything I know? I can never forget the time we spent traveling for days on end, how close we'd grown, and the bond that linked us.

And I will always treasure our waterfall, how he held me that night, and how strongly my heart beat for him. How I still react at just the mention of his name.

How can two people fit so well, but be so star-crossed?

I can't believe it. This feeling? It is not a weakness, I realize. It gives me strength. Hope. It infuses iron into my muscles and vigor into my skin. I will deny my heart no longer. Screw the consequences.

Because living is accepting that life may not be an easy race from start to finish. Living is having the courage to deal with obstacles along the way. This obstacle will no longer deter me from what I want.

After only a moment's hesitation, I throw my arms around Luke's strong shoulders and hold fast, as if the current of fate could wash us away. I don't miss the groan at back of his throat when I thread my fingers through his hair. It spurs me on, and I press my lips to his over and over, as if I am drowning and he is air.

Before I know it, his hands are on my waist as he lifts me off the ground and spins me around, sending the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. Then he sets me down and I drink him in, simultaneously too much and not enough. His tongue is soft as it slips between my lips, but so hot as it dances with mine. His hands, they're everywhere. Up and down my sides, around my hips, sliding up my spine.

I let out an involuntary whimper when he pulls away, my body lamenting the absence of his nearness.

"Don't ever do that to me again," he murmurs, pressing his forehead against mine. "I won't survive it."

For a moment, panic floods into my chest before I realize what he means. When I do, I concede with relief, rubbing his nose with the tip of mine. I don't think I could ever willingly keep myself away from him either, even if I tried. Meeting his heavy gaze, I whisper. "Neither would I."

I want to fall into Luke's eyes, I want to drown in that green sea.

But he only kisses me, again and again, until the moon is well into the night.

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