All the Promises We Break (The Desire

Series Book 2) Ariana Rose

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 Contents

Playlists
Dedication
1. Chapter One
2. Chapter Two
3. Chapter Three
4. Chapter Four
5. Chapter Five
6. Chapter Six
7. Chapter Seven
8. Chapter Eight
9. Chapter Nine
10. Chapter Ten
11. Chapter Eleven
12. Chapter Twelve
13. Chapter Thirteen
14. Chapter Fourteen
15. Chapter Fifteen
16. Chapter Sixteen
17. Chapter Seventeen
18. Chapter Eighteen
19. Chapter Nineteen
20. Chapter Twenty
21. Chapter Twenty-One
22. Chapter Twenty-Two
23. Chapter Twenty-Three
24. Chapter Twenty-Four
25. Chapter Twenty-Five
26. Chapter Twenty-Six
27. Chapter Twenty-Seven
28. Chapter Twenty-Eight
29. Chapter Twenty-Nine
30. Chapter Thirty
31. Chapter Thirty-One
32. Chapter Thirty-Two
33. Chapter Thirty-Three
34. Chapter Thirty-Four
35. Chapter Thirty-Five
36. Chapter Thirty-Six
37. Chapter Thirty-Seven
38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
39. Chapter Thirty-Nine
40. Chapter Forty
41. Chapter Forty-One
Also By Ariana
Follow Ariana
 Playlists

Elijah and Dylan

Gravity – Sara Bareilles

With Or Without You – U2
Like U – Rosenfeld
Tequila – Dan + Shay
Crazy Love – Brian McKnight
Ultra Violet – U2
Hallelujah – Jeff Buckley
Worship You – Kane Brown
All I Want Is You – U2

Wes and Hayley

Plush – Stone Temple Pilots

Patience – Chris Cornell
Up In Flames – She Wants Revenge
This Moment Now – Tyrone Wells
Lose Somebody – Kygo/One Republic
Run – Snow Patrol
Stay – Hurts
Daylight – Maroon 5
If You Love Her – Forest Blakk
 Dedication

For B
I will keep my promise of always and forever
I miss you more with each passing day
I love you
#F***Cancer
LOVE IS INFINITE
“The soul needs beauty for a soul mate.
When the soul wants, the soul waits.”
-U2
 Chapter One

DYLAN

For all the feeling my dancing takes, all the emotion, I don’t know if I’ve ever thought about the possibility of a soulmate. Until
Elijah, I didn’t allow myself to get close enough.
The sun is setting a little later than it was just a month ago. It’s getting warmer too. It feels nearly too close lying next to Eli.
Today was big for both of us. His first major outing, my unknown audition, and then watching him on his knee. I can feel my
breathing change. The quiet is very loud.
It’s in those quiet moments the replay of the last few weeks goes round and round inside my head. Our fight. Me saying we
won’t work. Him letting it happen. The accident. The consuming fear he’d leave me. Our fight back to each other. Every event
gives another layer to my anxiety and another layer to my fear. Even the commitment we have now won’t erase what might have
been.
I roll slowly out of bed, making sure any movement I make doesn’t disturb him. I’ll never again take for granted the simple
pleasure of watching him sleep. I don’t know if I’ll ever get over my need to do that. I think I might forever wait for him to try
and leave me again.
As I’m doing the last bundle of my hair atop my head, my ring catches. I pull my hand down and stare. A symbol of his love
and a bond I’ll have with him forever glistens right back at me. A heated flush rushes up my body. There’s the kind of
adrenaline that gives you wings and then there’s the kind that clips them. For the first time I can’t tell the difference.
A gentle knock takes me out of my head and back to the present. We’ve seen everyone today. Who could it be? Through the
peephole I see Lauren, Eli’s best girl friend, from across the hall. I love her and her girlfriend, Stacey, not just because they’ve
always taken such good care of Eli, but because they’re cool, chill, and easy to talk to. That’s something I could use right now.
After turning the deadbolts, I open the door to the amazing aroma of her world-famous lasagna. “Hey. Oh my gosh, you didn’t
have to do that.”
“Are you kidding? I’m a nervous cooker. When I didn’t hear back from him, I got worried.”
“Worried? Why?”
“I guess if you’re opening the door, you didn’t say no.” Lauren giggles.
“Get in here. We just have to keep it down. He’s sleeping right now.” Lauren sneaks around me like I’m going to smack her
for keeping me in the dark. “I feel like I was the only one not in the know.”
“That would take all the fun out of it if you saw it coming. You liked Gigi’s ring, right?”
“How could I not? I mean it’s about the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” I take the lasagna from her, heading for the
kitchen. Lauren’s bare feet follow behind me step for step. “Thank you for this. Food was the last thing on our minds after this
afternoon.”
“Tell me how he did it. He had a broad idea but fill me in on the execution.”
“It was fucking surreal. It’s almost like it didn’t happen. Eli wanted to take a walk around campus. I thought it was too soon,
he didn’t, of course. We stopped at my loft first. He wanted me to get my dance gear together. Again okay, but then I knew for
sure he was up to something when we snuck into the auditorium.
“He made me dance to the same music I was dancing to when I told him we couldn’t see each other anymore. I swore I’d
never play Sara Bareilles again. He started the music and basically shouted at me to move. I was terrified but the music won
me over.”
“Well played, sir. Damn. Then what happened?”
“I danced the best freestyle performance of my life. I can’t explain it. It’s like I was dancing as someone else or possessed or
something. I’ve always danced for me, you know? That routine was not only for me, but for him. I collapsed to the floor when I
was done.
“He had his parents, grandparents, Hayley, and Wes watching from the shadows. He also got the director of the company’s
audition I missed to watch. He convinced her to give me a full audition later this summer. This was all before the ring.” I can
feel my heart race again sitting still. My hands wrap over the edge of the kitchen counter to have any hope of grounding myself.
“That had to be overwhelming. Are you okay though? You seem happy. You said yes, but I feel like there’s something else. I
know I don’t know you very well but as a fellow creative, I can see when the elements are getting the better of you.”
“I don’t know. It’s just so much. There are so many things to decide. I’m having a hard time sorting it all out in my head. This
wasn’t anything I planned for or really saw coming right now.”
“Neither was Eli’s accident. This is a good thing. He loves you so much. I was here during Tori. I was here after. He’s
different with you. He’s the person he should’ve always been. I know he wasn’t looking for you either, but here you both are.
That’s a gift. Don’t give it back.”
Lauren puts her hand softly on my shoulder. “I know it’s a lot. Just know that Stacey and I are not only here for him, but
we’re here for you too. You can never have too many friends, or pairs of shoes.” She smiles. “I’ll leave you be for now. Just
know our door is always open. Okay?”
I give her a small smile in return. “Okay. Thank you again for dinner.”
“You bet. Now have a glass of wine and breathe. I’ll let myself out.”
With a wink, she turns on her heel with her red flowing curls floating just behind her, leaving me to uncork the bottle of white
I hid in the back of the refrigerator in case of emergency. I think this situation would qualify.
I place the lasagna in a portion of the open space where the wine once stood. I realize my hand is shaking when I try to
uncork the bottle. Before pouring, I clench and release my fists with a shake. It usually works just not this time.
I’ve heard of dancers having attacks of panic before an audition or a big performance. It stems from knowing everything
comes down to this moment. One wrong step, one misplaced arm or hand, one heavy leap, and it could all be over.
One wrong choice and this could all be over.
I need air. I need that more than I need the wine, but I bring it with me. The impending night is my savior in the moment. As I
open the balcony door to let the gentle breeze hit me, I can feel the lightness of the air reach the bottom of my lungs.
My heart is still pounding in my ears. At least the white noise of the city below is allowing me to shut out the thoughts racing
in my head. Can I really do this? What are we going to tell people at the office? Will this all work? Eli says he has no doubts.
Is that true?
The padded bench calls to me from the far end of the balcony. As I close my eyes and set my glass on the floor, my knees
instinctively pull to my chest. It occurs to me I’m wearing the same T-shirt Eli gave me to put on the first night I ever stayed
here. We’ve lived a lifetime since then. Possibly two or three. There are no quick one-liners back and forth. There’s a harsh
and beautiful reality in front of us.
My face turns to the wind and I simply breathe. When there’s nothing else, there is that. The sun gives me one last good night
kiss as its rays bounce off the windows on a building a couple blocks away. My focus needs to center on the here and now
versus the fear of the past and the future.
“I woke up and you were gone.” His sleepy voice echoes from the doorway. “Did I hear Lauren?”
“Yeah. She dropped off dinner for us. We just have to rewarm it. Her famous lasagna.”
“I missed waking up next to you.”
“I’m sorry. I needed a minute or two alone before the sun set.”
“Your face tells me you need more than a minute. Today was…” He pauses.
“You’re right it was. It was a lot.”
“Is this a private thinking session or can anyone join?”
“Not anyone, just you.” I loosen my grip on my knees to extend my hand to him. His hair is finally filling in from where they
had to shave it. He slides his glasses up with his finger before taking my hand. I lift both my legs into the air, offering an
invitation to sit before I cage him in under them. His soft lips leave their imprint on my forehead before he embraces his
capture.
“Are you sure you should be up?”
“I’m fine. I’m more than fine. Now we need to work on getting you there. Do you need to change your answer to one or more
of the questions you were asked today?”
His fingers rub over the ring he placed on my finger. It’s silently asking a bigger question than the one he just did in words. I
cup his cheek with my right hand. “No. I don’t. Do you want to take it back?”
“That would be the point at which I’d want someone to take me back to the hospital and check my head again.”
I let my hand fall away from his cheek. “Not funny, Sawyer.”
“Hey, I’m not trying to make light of it. I just want to see you smile. Today was a good day.” Eli takes a deep breath before
resting his lips on my forehead. “Look, maybe we need to talk. Get it all out in the open. I want to know what you’re thinking.”
“Are you ready for that, Eli? I mean really ready? It’s a mess in there right now.”
“What a beautiful mess.”
“Stop,” I beg.
 “Don’t you know there’s nothing we can’t get through if we stick together? Things happen when we’re apart.”
“Pulling the older and wiser card?” I smirk.
“Yes and the been there done that. I need to ask you a question and I want you to answer me without thinking. Are you
scared?” I open my mouth to say yes, but no words come out. Eli slowly tugs me over onto his lap, wrapping his arms around
my body. “I know fear isn’t a thing you like to admit.”
“In dance, being a little afraid is a good thing. It means you still want to be better. You want to push yourself. But it can also
lead to injury if you’re tentative.”
“Is that what you are, Viper? Tentative? You said you’re a mess. Tell me. I won’t break.”
Behind a wall I create with my hands, for the first time since Eli woke up, I completely melt into a waterfall of tears. You
can only hold your breath for so long before you need to exhale.
Being afraid that he’d never hear me say I’m sorry, afraid our last words would be in anger. Now I’m afraid to look ahead.
What if it’s all too much? What if I’m not enough? Above everything, I allow myself to fully feel the emptiness that would have
consumed me if Eli was gone.
“I knew it. Damn. Dylan,” he whispers softly to me. “Please let me see your eyes.”
I shake my head. “No.” My voice cracks at the end as my shoulders shake.
“If you can’t show me, at least let it go.”
“You almost did break. I can’t let. It. Go.”
“Viper, you have to. It’s eating you up inside. It’s just you and me. We’re home. I’m healing. I need to hear what’s in your
head.”
Elijah holds the back of my head, gently pressing my cheek into his chest. I say the first thing that comes to my mind over the
sobs. “I hate you.”
I can feel his body vibrate with a subtle chuckle before he responds. “You hate me. That’s what this is all about?”
“No. It’s not. Don’t laugh at me. I hate you for making me less independent. I hate you for making me depend on someone. I
hate you for making me love you then almost lose you.”
“Let me make sure I understand. You hate me because you love me.”
“Yes.” I say that both as a question and a statement.
I can feel Eli looking down at me. I want to see his face but I’m not sure I’m ready for him to see mine. He gently tilts my
chin up to look at him. His eyes are a mix of happiness, sadness, confusion, and love. “One thing at a time, Viper. Just one. Why
do you think you’re less independent?”
“My parents didn’t really give a shit about what made me happy or filled my soul. Eli, you think about that for me more than I
do. That was made crystal clear today by having Jill Wallace show up after I missed the first audition. You knew who to call
and cared enough to make the plea for me.”
“I asked my father for help. I knew that one of our board members is highly connected in her circle. I didn’t feel I had enough
of a relationship with her yet to ask if she knew Jill or knew of a friend who did. So, my father made the connection and the
rest, they say, is history.”
“No one close to me has cared that much about my dancing before.”
“Then they don’t love you like I do. One of the benefits of growing up in a family like I did was that I had perfect role
models for love. I studied love in all my philosophy classes, but my living case studies are my parents and grandparents. When
one of them had a dream, it was both of them who fought for it.
“AnSa wouldn’t be what it is without Gran and Mom. Pops knows that and so does my father. I love your pieces where you
put so much of your anger, fear, and sadness in them. They’re raw but so filled with this energy I can’t describe. I want to be a
witness to when you soar inside as much as you do on the outside. I want to see you rehearse for your next chapter.”
“How do you know what my next chapter looks like when I don’t?”
He holds me back at arm’s length. “Are you telling me you don’t want to dance for Jill?” His eyes dart back and forth, like
he’s trying to solve a code just beyond his capability. He looks as confused on the outside as I feel on the inside.
“No. I’m not saying that. It’s just that it’s so real now. Everything is real.
“Playing became passion which is becoming permanent. I’m excited by that. I feel like this is my second chance in so many
ways.
“Eli, I just need to take this step by step. Your health and recovery is first.”
“What comes second, Viper? What? Don’t use me as a crutch not to look ahead. That’s not fair to me. It’s bullshit, actually.”
“Bullshit? My fear is bullshit. Good to know.” I fling my legs out of his lap. My feet hit the concrete of his balcony with a
thud. The bottom of my wine glass scrapes along a groove as I pick it up in haste. The long sips I take as I walk coat my throat,
raw from tears that still flow even in my anger.
“Dylan, stop!” My name vibrates off a couple of nearby buildings and echoes in front of me. I let my arm fall to my side with
the empty glass still in my hand. I catch Eli’s reflection in the window to our right. His fingers are pressed over his closed
eyelid just inches from his scar.
 I turn back quickly to make sure I’m seeing things right. “Eli? What’s wrong?”
“Instant karma for raising my voice. Headache behind my eye.”
After setting the glass on the bistro table, I walk over to him and kneel down by his feet. “Let me take you inside.”
“I don’t want to go back to bed. We need to sort this out.”
“Come inside and we’ll curl up on the couch. It’s quieter and I promise I’ll talk.” I take his elbow softly, tugging for him to
get up. After a moment he finally does. “This is my fault too.”
Elijah shuffles slowly inside to the comfort of the couch. I become his pillow as his head rests gently down in my lap. My
fingers run in a lazy circular pattern over his forehead for nearly five minutes before he speaks again. “I’ve watched you for
months. I’ve listened to everything you’ve ever said. You don’t think you can have it all. I know we can. May I tell you how?
“Graduation is just a couple short months away. You’ll feel better once that’s settled. I see you being the principal dancer
you want, but also do something else I know fills you up. I’ve seen the same determination with what you’ve given to the Roark
Foundation and your branch of it. It combines your dance with helping others.
“I’d hate to see you feel like you have to choose. You’re helping more people than you realize and one day, a long time from
now, when dancing is done, you will have this always as a legacy. Your feet will leave their mark, not only on the floor but in
hearts too. You can have it all. Your capacity is limitless.”
“That’s a lot. I have to think about it, Eli. I really do.” I created patterns around his forehead a couple more times in the
silence between us. Then I ask for something I’ve been missing. Something that centers me. “Will you lay on me? I know that
sounds weird but, I want to feel the weight of your body over mine.”
“I suppose it will be a precursor to coming attractions in the weeks ahead? This could prove difficult.”
“I just want to feel calmed by you. I just want to feel peaceful.”
Eli rolls gently off my lap down onto all fours on the floor. He gives my cheek a soft kiss before I swing my legs to the length
of the couch. When I’m fully settled, I motion for him to join me. He slithers up and over my body. His head rests softly on my
chest as his arms snake under my back with his hands locking over my shoulders.
My lips leave featherlight kisses on the top of his head. Eli’s fingers tense then release over my skin. I whisper to him, “I
didn’t hurt you, did I?”
A long rolling sigh leaves his body. “Not at all. I hope I’ll fall asleep.”
“Are you still tired?”
“Not really. But at least I can do whatever I want to you in my dreams.”
“I can’t wait for the day when dreams become reality again.”
 Chapter Two

ELIJAH

I’m beginning to like the darkness again. For a long time it was something I dreaded. It was the place where fear and doubt
took over. Now it’s the place I can hold something that chases those things away. As much as I like the serenity I get from
Dylan’s frame draping over mine, I enjoy blanketing her just as much.
I love how her petite athletic stature fits like the perfect complement into the bends of my body at any given time. I love the
rhythmic beat of her heart pounding just under my cheek. I love the deep breaths she takes about once an hour. They catch
slightly at the end. That’s how I know she’s fully asleep.
She deserves some peace. She’s spent weeks not taking care of herself. This latest dip in her self-esteem and self-confidence
rides wholly on my shoulders. She was injured too. I just wish I could see her scars. I’d at least be able to see the beast I’m
facing.
I was ready for the obvious physical effects of the accident. I can measure that I’ll be slower to walk, let alone run. My
shoulder will be in rehab for about six months. I accept the memory blanks and hope those around me at the office will be able
to as well. I don’t want to fail them, let alone myself.
My subconscious often wanders to my first meetings. Will I have to follow again before I can lead? It’s a never-ending war I
battle every time I close my eyes. What will I say? How will it be received?
These dialogues often begin as I ride the fine line between sleep and awake. I write and edit the words over and over. This
happens until or unless I get the desired outcome. My eraser is casting out about half of the latest draft as I get pulled to another
place.
I can feel subtle twists and ticks beneath me. They pull me from the darkness and my self-inflicted hot seat. I open my eyes,
confused for a moment to where I am. The light has gone to twilight. Rush hour traffic noise has faded to the nighttime bustle.
The twists and ticks continue. The deep breaths I was used to from Dylan have become more erratic. She’s dreaming. Her body
is usually eerily peaceful while she sleeps. I’ve spent many nights watching her.
This is different. There are small childlike groans that rattle in her chest. I need to see how this plays out. If I wake her,
she’ll say she doesn’t remember. I don’t want her in pain if this is a nightmare she needs to be woken from.
Her groans become simple words. No. Stop. Eli.
I raise my chin so I can see her face clearly. Her eyes twitch and a single tear drips from the corner. That’s where I draw the
line. My arm slowly slides out from behind her back and my thumb wipes the tear away. “Viper. Hey.” My finger finishes
contact with her cheek as my words try to coax her back to reality.
Dylan gasps as her eyes dart open. She tries to get out from under my weight like a scared animal would retreat to their
corner. “Hey, hey. Calm down,” I whisper. “You’re here. You’re safe.”
It takes her a few seconds to process what I’ve said and realize where she is. I can see the race of her pulse in her neck with
my eyes. “Eli?”
“Yes. It’s me. Are you all right?”
“I… I don’t know. Kiss me?”
“Kiss you?”
“That’s the only way I’ll know I’m not imagining this. Kiss me.”
I would have kissed her without an invitation. I asked her to kiss me once too. It was to make sure I was alive and that she
was there with me. I raise myself off the beautiful bed that is her body. Dylan tucks her legs quickly under her. She’s recoiled
away from me; afraid this isn’t real. I move toward her body, my knees making deep imprints into the cushions.
My hand reaches into the quiet darkness toward her. The pads of my fingers roll over the back of her neck, pulling her to my
lips. I give Dylan a ghost of a kiss at first to make sure she accepts that this is real, and we are here. Alive.
The tension that’s been radiating out of her as fear morphs into sexual tension that has magnetized between us since our first
glance. I haven’t been given the green light to be with her again, but I have to trust my body. What my body is telling me I need
right now is her.
We’re usually expressive in a wild intensity that would rival an active volcano. My being wants to give her that, but I also
know I’m not physically ready for it. We need a new subtle boil for the moment that will evaporate the need we have for each
other right now.
My body casts a shadow over her. I feel like I dwarf Dylan for the first time ever in our relationship. She’s always been
bolder, braver. I like that. I crave it in fact. When she’s at her strongest is when I’m happiest. My lips mold and blend with
hers. There’s the slightest tremble from them.
My feather kisses begin to take a marked turn. I want her to feel in control. I want her to take control back. I push her toward
the flames. Respond, Viper. Strike.
Her breathing stops for just a second. I can feel the internal struggle she’s battling. “For the second time today, don’t let fear
win, Dylan.”
I hear her inhale and as she does, she rises to her knees. Her delicate hands wrap my jawline. She pulls me in closer to her.
Our bodies meet. I can feel the heat from my girl begin to rise, even through my T-shirt she’s now claimed as hers.
As our lips wage war with each other, my hands slip to her hips. They splay out over her hip bones. Dylan moans softly as
my hands possess her skin in a way it’s been too long since the last time. The last time was at the gala. We were in hiding then.
Now she’s officially mine.
Her hands move to trail over every bump of my spine. The lower she goes the more my need grows. Dylan knows this. She
slides her fingers around the waistband on my sleep pants. Every muscle in my torso contracts. She gives me a gentle shove. I
know exactly what she wants.
My back lowers to the opposite end of the couch. I pile the pillows beneath my head and neck so I have an easier time
watching her. She pulls the remote for the sound system from a secret location and presses the power button. The soft yet
powerful voice of Bono fills the room. “One” has long been a favorite of mine, not only for the music but the lyrics. It’s about
to have a whole new beat beneath it.
Dylan gives me a smile unlike any I’ve seen lately. The woman who woke in fear is now looking at me fearlessly. That look
is wholly erotic and one I will never get enough of. She wraps the hem of the cotton T-shirt coating her body with her hands,
lifts it over her head, triumphantly tossing it to the ground.
Her hair lies like bands of blonde silk over her shoulders and down her back. Dylan’s body gravitates toward mine with a
kiss just above my navel. She winds her fingers into the drawstrings on my pants and tugs. “A little help, please.”
My heels press into the cushions on either side of my beautiful fiancée and my backside rises just enough so she can tug the
fabric around my waist free. The bite of the elastic over my skin only enhances my need for her. I watch Dylan as she seems to
be in a glorious slow motion. Over my right foot first, then the left, is only a precursor to the floor next to my, or should I say
her, T-shirt.
She slides her hand under my right thigh, placing it with gentle desire away from the pillows along the back edge of the
couch so she can slither farther up my body. The weight of her straddles my hips. I want to touch her. I need to touch her. As I
reach up to feel the softness of her skin, she wraps her fingers around my wrists and presses them above my head. “Not fair,
Viper,” I whisper in protest.
“I will let you at a time I choose. Remember my toenail painting party?”
The memory from our trip to Vermont washes back in various shades of pink: the one I painted on her toes, the one on her
parted lips as mine feasted on her body, and especially the one that brushed up against her skin. “Vividly.”
“Let me give it to you like that in return.”
“I’m more of a pale purple than pink.”
She smacks my hip but more of her hand vibrates off the portion of my left ass cheek, peeking out from just beyond my sight. I
inhale deep. That wasn’t something I expected or expected to like, but I did. “Did I hurt you?” she asks.
“Not in a way I minded. I’ve missed Viper in technicolor.”
“Good.”
She rises up off my thighs. Her eyes never leave mine. I see a slight moment of hesitation before she slides down, taking me
all the way to my root. We both exhale in unison at the feeling of our connection. We’ve been through so much individually, and
together, that this intimate act is one of releasing fear and recommitting to each other in a way that brought us together in the
first place.
With the first roll of her hips, my hands clench into fists. She rests her right hand in the center of my chest as her left arm
drapes over the pillows beside us. Each slow wave of her body makes me only want to touch her more. She doesn’t ask for
much ever. She’s asked I don’t touch her until she says I should. I didn’t realize how hard that would become.
I twist bundled strands of my own hair with my fingers. I’m praying that these tethers will hold strong until I’m given the
words to set me free. My groans stay quiet. The only thing I really want to hear is her. I want to remember every bit of motion,
every breath, every single noise she makes.
 This is the best bit of choreography she’s ever crafted. Her fingers rise and fall over my skin. She pulls her weight back and
then lets it ride forward. I can feel myself shake from the inside out. Dylan has a way of possessing me that I didn’t know was
possible.
She reaches up with her left hand, holding my wrists still. The perfect pink of her nipples drag across my chest. Dylan drives
me so deep inside her we’re no longer two bodies. We’re one.
My lips drag across her cheek. I drink in the taste. “Let me touch you, Viper. Don’t make me beg.”
The most wicked of smiles crosses her mouth. She slides her hand from my chest and grips my chin in its palm. After giving
it a biting squeeze, she teases me with a nibble of my ear as her hand joins the other, weaving our fingers together.
That small touch gives me a bit of leverage. I rotate her arms behind her back in my own personal handcuffs. Her core is her
strength. She battles my will with every roll of her hips. She owns me. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
I open my fingers enough to have her show me her next trick. She flattens my hands over her lower back as she straightens
up. Instantly, I grip her hips and arch my body skyward. The slight lift rates a sexy whimper. “More,” she begs. I will never say
no to her.
Our souls have been crying out for this connection and there is no way we will give in until we’ve reached a pinnacle. Like
all the great duets in music and dance, we give each other the space to lead but also to battle. We began in a race to tease. Now
we’re in a race to finish.
We know each other so well. Her cues are there, which only enhance my desire. Our bodies roll in tandem waves until she
breaks into a series of cries of calling my name and spirit. I follow quickly behind her, holding her hips down so hard I fear
what color her skin may be in the morning.
As I try to catch my breath, Dylan slowly falls to my chest with her hair cascading over and between us. She snakes her arm
around and under my body. I allow my fingers to trail up and down every bump on her spine once again. My Viper shivers
against my skin. “Are you cold? I wouldn’t think you could be. That was fire.”
“No, I’m not cold.”
Her arms wrap tighter and tighter. I can feel her trying to hide her face in the crook of my neck. “You’re shaking.” Instinct
floods over and through me as I hold her close. “What is it?”
“I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That this wasn’t real. We’d finish and I’d wake up and you wouldn’t be here.”
“Your dream?”
“I saw your accident. I saw your body roll, tumble, and flip like a rag doll. I ran to you and took your helmet off. At first
there wasn’t a face there. Then it was me all cut and bloody. It makes zero sense, but it scared me.”
I close my eyes and process what she’s just confessed. Sometimes you can’t wash the memories away. No matter how hard
you try, they’re as fresh and real as if it’s happening all over again. I wasn’t naïve enough to think that when I was on the road
to recovery, she would be too.
Sometimes the effects of a trauma like that stay with you for months or in many cases years. “What can I do, Dylan? I’ll do
anything.”
She sighs. “I don’t know. But this,” she turns her head to rest her lips against me, “this is a good start.”
 Chapter Three

ELIJAH

I slept soundly for quite a while. There are some nights where we sleep completely independent of each other so I can watch
her. Tonight was not one of those nights.
She wanted to sleep tucked against my body and I wanted her just as close. Since we spent so many nights where we weren’t
able to touch, these nights have become a gift. Dylan hasn’t moved in hours. Her breathing is deep and even. That too is a gift.
I’ve gone back and forth in my mind about her nightmare. I know that kind of nightmare. I haven’t told her about the times I
wake up in the middle of the accident and realize I’m here with her. It’s not that I don’t want to share with her but if yesterday
taught me anything, it’s that I’m right and she’s hiding more than she admits to.
Feeling us take steps forward, I hope will heal her. I know it will heal me. She’s got her audition. She’s done the biggest
thing for me by agreeing to be my wife. Graduation is on the horizon. However, there are two shoes left to drop and they are
inexplicably woven.
Her left hand rests across my chest. Gigi’s ring shines up at me. I try to silently give her my hand to hold, hoping that it will
give her the extra comfort I know she needs. “How early is it?” she whispers with the sexy tone I’m lucky to have greet me
every morning.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”
“Are you all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I can feel the tiny corners of her mouth turn up.
“Far from it. I’d like to return the favor.”
Dylan turns her chin to my chest and looks up at me through her stunningly long lashes. “You would?”
“Yes, but not in the way you mean. At least not immediately.”
“Shit. I thought I heard you thinking. Okay, Sawyer. Lay it on me.”
“We have some hurdles to face soon.”
“No track and field for you, Goose. Both feet on the ground at all times for a while.”
I laugh. “I’m serious and just to correct you, I did fine with no feet on the ground last night. Just saying.”
“You absolutely did. Shouldn’t we at least have coffee before this takes a turn for the serious?”
“I’ll make you a seven course breakfast if you’ll just have this conversation with me.”
“Seven courses? Wow. This must be serious.”
“Look. Your dream really affected me. Not so much the content but the terror you woke up with. Bottom line is that I will do
anything and everything to keep you from that look and feeling. We have to face what’s next together.”
“What’s next, Eli?”
“I don’t want to hide us from the world any longer. I’m proud I’m going to marry you. However, there are two key sets of
people that need to know our reality.”
“Who’s that? You brought anyone that would need to know with you to witness my hot mess express.”
“Don’t say that. You were the freest I've ever seen you. It was beautiful.” I pull her hand to my lips for a soft kiss to cushion
the next words from my mouth. “First, we need to talk to your parents.”
“Jesus, Eli. You want to go there already? Can’t we just enjoy this for ourselves right now?”
“We can, but here’s the consequence of doing that. If your parents, especially your father, find out that not only did you not
tell him you’re working for the enemy, but you’re sleeping with and marrying him too, there could be a few landmines we
won’t be able to sidestep.”
Dylan’s breathing becomes so shallow I start to wonder if it’s stopped. She slowly pushes away from my body to sit at my
side. Her chin hides down as she stretches out her neck before she tilts her head to look at me. Her blonde locks frame her face
in the wildest of ways. I slide my fingers up and over her ear to tuck a bit of it away so I can see her eyes.
“Will I still be working for you?”
 “That choice is yours. I told you that. We can work out an agreement that will allow you to be on the team for the project that
you’re the heart of. That aside, we are your father’s competitor. You’ve told him, in no uncertain terms, you did not want any
part of his world.”
“I still don’t.”
“I know. I do, but he will see this as a play at first. I know Paul through business. Me suddenly becoming the son-in-law is
not a punch he’ll see coming. That will be about me. I don’t want him to take that out on you.”
“If I’ve learned anything from watching my father, he does what he wants. He’s made himself a prestigious career out of
doing just that.”
“What I don’t want is for him to find out some other way and come after AnSa. That will only antagonize the board, which is
a whole other issue in and of itself.”
Dylan rests her hand back on my chest. “I’ve been so caught up in my head I didn’t think that far. Could you lose your
position because of me?”
I reach up and gently skim the side of her face. “No. We don’t have a policy written prohibiting workplace relationships.
However, I don’t think it’s ever been an issue until now. At least no one’s brought anything to my father or myself.”
“You’ve worked so hard for what you’ve achieved, Eli. You were born to do what you’re doing as much as I am for dance. I
don’t want that taken away from you because of me, because of us.”
“Stop it. It won’t. I don’t want this to sound like it’s going to come out, but since the accident my filter has skewed anyway.
My family owns the company. If my father and grandfather back this, even if the stakeholders raise an issue, I don’t think
anything will come of it.
“I just want to be upfront and honest, like I’ve always been with them. I want my staff to know that favoritism has not and
will not play into this. You’ve earned everything you’ve gotten at the office, regardless of any late-night boardroom meetings.”
Dylan tries not to laugh but that venture fails quickly. “One time. Technically it was only foreplay in the boardroom, and we
brought the main event home.”
“True, but what a meeting it was. Seriously, Dylan,” I pause long enough to take her hand again, “call your parents and set up
a time to talk. We can go to them. I’m going to be your husband. I owe your father that respect.”

Dylan

It takes me two days to make the call to my parents. My mother and father tag teamed the phone conversation. First came my
mom. She was on the way back from yoga. I’d caught her in the car. She couldn’t stop talking about her session today and how
calm she feels. I hope that mood will last.
She handed her cell off to my dad while she was off-loading her gear in the mud room. I could hardly hear him over the
cabinet doors slamming and the dog barking. My father is suspicious by nature, which I could hear loud and proud in his voice
saying, “Sure, you should come for dinner.”
I never ask for this and when I do I usually ask to meet near campus so the out for rehearsal or to simply run into someone I
know to allow me to make a quick exit is an option. I’m sure they think this is going to be another fight about dance and my
options after graduation. Well, at least this time, they’re not wrong.
I’m glad there’s a midweek gridlock on I-495. It gives me time to breathe. Nerves are not a thing when I’m on stage. I love
the lights, the feel of my costumes, and the sound of the music. Where there’s music, there’s life. Eli knows this about me. Just
like on the way to Vermont, he gives me control of the radio.
I let the sounds of metal try and vibrate the nerves I feel from my body as we ride on. As traffic opens and we’re able to
drive faster, I can sense my anxiety build, no matter what I do, the closer we get to Circle Drive. I watch the GPS tick down the
miles and the minutes until it’s spouting that we’ve reached our destination.
Eli parks at the end of the long brick path leading to the door. With the push of a button, the car is silent. He reaches over and
takes my hand. “It’s going to be okay. I promise you. We’re going to do this together.”
“I literally feel sick. I have an awful feeling this will be a disaster.”
“If it is, I’ll get you out of there and we’ll move on. I’ve already decided your parents will either accept what we have to
say, or they won’t. Honestly, I don’t give a shit either way. I’ll be your family. My family will be your family.”
“I love this protector vibe you’ve got going on. It’s really fucking sexy.”
“Then you can consider this dinner as a literal lane to dessert. Now, let’s do this.” Eli leans in and kisses me with a soft
confidence that almost makes me believe we’ll walk out of here tonight without a fight.
His strong hand settles in the small of my back as we walk those last paved steps to the front door. After a few deep breaths
outside, I punch in the code to the lock and the door opens with a double beep from the alarm system. Close behind is the click-
clack of paws on the hardwood floor.
Jester, our golden retriever, comes barreling around the corner from the living room. He wriggles and wiggles between Eli
and me, trying to get all the scritches and love he can. “Hey, Jester. What’s going on, boy? Huh? Did you miss me?”
“Did you just call him Jester?”
“I love call signs just as much as you, Goose.” I giggle.
“Dylan? Is that you?” my mother calls from the kitchen.
“Yes, it’s me.”
I rise from Jester and stand with my hands balancing my weight on the foyer table. Mom’s white orchids are in bloom. I can’t
believe she finally made one last. Eli is still kneeling behind me, becoming fast friends with the dog. At least Jester likes him.
That’s one down.
“I sent your father out for fresh bread from that bakery you like so much,” she says as she emerges from the kitchen. “It will
go well with the grilled chicken penne.”
As she crosses to give me a hug, Eli rises from behind the shield of my body. “Mom, this is Elijah Sawyer. Eli, this is my
mother Margaret Cooper.”
Eli extends his right hand to her, with his left returning to the small of my back. “It’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the
name, Mrs. Cooper.”
The shock on her face is as bright as the sun coming in the windows. She reaches out to take his hand. “Nice to meet you too.
I wasn’t aware you were bringing a guest, darling.”
“Yeah. That was sort of the point. Mom, can we go in the living room and talk before Dad gets back?”
“Normally when you want to talk without him here, you want me to help you tell him something. Is that what we have going
on? Wait. Did you say your last name was Sawyer?”
“Yes, ma’am. My father is Jackson Sawyer.”
I watch the light go on in my mother’s eyes as she begins to piece everything together. “Why don’t you call me, Maggie?
Dylan, will you lead Elijah to the living room? I think I need wine for this.”
My shoulders roll forward as I hear her in the kitchen twisting the bottles around in the wine refrigerator. Eli gently pulls me
along to our oversized sectional along the floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the house. The windows are cracked to let in
a cool breeze. There’s room enough for three adults to lie down on the cushions. At this point, I’m praying it doesn’t come to
that.
Eli takes his position on my left, only sitting once my mother returns with a tray, four glasses, and an open bottle of white that
I could easily sink to the bottom of. I’ve gone over about a thousand ways at lightning speed in my brain about how to begin.
My mother, however, beats me to the punch.
“I read in the news that you were in an accident a few weeks ago. I trust you’re healing well?”
“I am. Thank you. I’ll return to the office at the beginning of the week part time, then as I readjust, I’ll increase my hours. I
wouldn’t be as far along with my recovery if it had not been for your daughter. She’s taken good care of me.”
I wind my arm underneath Eli’s, sliding my hand along the top of his thigh. The sleeve of my chunky cardigan slips up from
my fingertips, bunching back to my knuckles, exposing the sparkle of my diamonds against the rich navy of Eli’s pants.
“What is that? Dylan? What’s that on your hand?” She pauses as she stares between us. “You’re getting married? I know you
find the music of Romeo and Juliet a favorite, but for God’s sake.”
“Stop, Mom. Just stop, please. Can’t you tell this is hard for me? For us? I was hoping you could for once be happy that I’m
happy.”
“How did this happen? You said you didn’t have any room for anything but dance. At least that’s what you always told us.”
My voice instantly raises an octave. “How did this happen?! Right, because why would anyone want to commit to me?”
Eli holds his left hand up. “Okay. Take a breath. Do you want me to answer that? I can. I can tell you exactly how it
happened.” My head rests against my right hand in defeat. Eli looks to me for permission to continue. I give him a nod so he
knows he has it.
“Your question of how this happened has a backstory, which I’ll save until we’re all together. What I can tell you now is that
Dylan is the best thing that could have happened to me. She’s not only beautiful, but she’s also talented, brilliant, caring beyond
words, and loving beyond measure.
“We met in a combination of ordinary and extraordinary circumstances. She’s my right hand, my best hand. I’m lucky to have
her woven into all aspects of my life and family. I would like your blessing and that’s what I’m here to seek.”
“I know your family and my husband are not at war per se, but this will be a tough sell.”
I grip Eli’s hand so tight, he has to lay his other hand over the top to subtly remove my fingers from his skin. “Mom, I have a
plan for my life. Now that plan includes Eli. It includes his family. They’ve been nothing but kind and supportive in every way.
I care about them and they care about me.”
My mother begins to gently roll the stem of her glass between her fingers as she settles back farther in her chair. I didn’t
mean what I said to be a slap in her face, but I can tell she took it just that way. “So, they know about you? You’ve spent a great
deal of time with them it seems.”
In that moment, the door from the garage opens then the double beep echoes in the house once more. I can hear the soles of
my father’s shoes step closer and closer. “Maggie? Whose car is that out front? Did Dylan catch a ride with a friend?”
“You could say that. We’re in here, Paul.”
Eli turns his head and stares deep into my eyes. We have an entire conversation in less than two seconds.
I’m scared.
I know.
I want to run.
We’re going to stay, and it will be fine. I promise.
My father tosses his keys on the foyer table as he makes his way to my mother’s voice, with Jester trotting along at his side.
His looming shadow turns the corner in the room just as Elijah rises, his body partially shielding mine but allowing me to see
the smile fade to shock on my father’s face.
“Hello, Paul.”
“Well. This is a surprise. I’d like to say what are you doing here, but the math seems simple. How deep are you in, Dylan?”
I rise to Eli’s side as I slide my hand down into his. “Don’t be rude, Daddy.”
It’s Eli’s turn to squeeze my hand. When I did it, it was to draw strength to talk at all. His is all about maintaining control.
“Paul, Dylan and I came here out of respect for you and your wife. We wanted to have a conversation about a few things so you
wouldn’t hear it another way.”
My mother also rises to my father’s side. She threads her arm around his. I’m not sure if that move is to mirror us or to hold
him back from doing something potentially stupid. “Do you want to tell him or should I?” she asks.
“Tell me what?” I can nearly hear his jaw click from the six feet we’re standing apart.
“Paul, I’ve asked Dylan to marry me. She’s made me the happiest man alive by saying yes.”
My father ignores Eli completely and addresses me. “You don’t come home for nine months, then you show up here today
saying you’re getting married to the son of my biggest business rival? Did you really think this would go well?”
“Actually, Daddy, I hoped that for once you’d listen to me when I’d say something makes me happy. I wish all the time that
you’ll tell me how proud I make you and you trust my judgment.”
“Paul, I want to have an honest discussion about how we got here and how we move forward. If that’s not something you’re
interested in, I’ll take Dylan home and we’ll plan our future without you. I love her and because I love her, we’re here to bring
us together. If you can’t, I won’t let you hurt her anymore.
“She is thriving in all aspects of her life. Graduating with highest honors. A job that will work with her to find the right
balance between it and her desire to dance in a company, the company of her dreams. That audition is on the horizon. We
haven’t set a wedding date yet, but I don’t intend on waiting long.
“So, with great respect, I ask you for your blessing. Just know whether you give it or not, as long as Dylan will have me, I
will be her partner in business, in life, and in love.”
He’s said all these things to me before but when he looks at my parents, especially my father, and says them again, it hits my
soul differently. My father is used to owning every room he enters. Today, right now, Eli fills the space, and I couldn’t be
prouder to be by his side.
Eli inspires me to say things to my parents I’ve never had the courage to articulate. “Mom, Dad…I know you’ve never been
a fan of my dancing the way I do. Mom, I know you wanted me to be a prima ballerina. Daddy, you didn’t understand it at all.
Just because I want something different doesn’t make it any less.
“I found Eli because of dance. He’s supported me every step of every routine. He understands my passion and drive. Those
were the key things that led him to offer me an internship at AnSa this year. I got to lead a project for a friend of his, an NHL
player. I helped shape how his entire Foundation will be rebranded. They’re even letting me run a portion of it.
“Me. I did that. I earned that. Just like I earned, by my bloodied feet and broken-down body, a chance to be accepted into the
dance company I’ve wanted to be in since I was fourteen. I’m stronger now than I ever have been. How I got here sucked but I
wouldn’t want to give it back. I’m right where I should be. Please, Daddy. Please accept me, accept us.”
The silence in the room when I finish is not only deafening but I feel like it lingers forever. My mom stands very still, with
her fingers resting lightly on her lips. Her eyes gloss over ever so slightly as she angles herself, waiting on my father’s
reaction.
He looks down at the floor where Jester is sitting at his feet. My father slides his hands into his pants pockets, taking three
steps forward toward us. My instinct draws me close into Eli’s side. My father settles into his stance before us and looks up to
meet Eli’s eyes.
“So, is she that direct and convincing in the boardroom?”
“That and then some. She’s one of the most brilliant interns we’ve had in five years.”
“Elijah,” my father pauses, “you’ve got the guts of your grandfather and a way with words like your father.”
 “Thank you, sir. I definitely take that as a compliment.”
My father takes his right hand from his pocket, extending it to me. “Let me see this ring of yours.”
The tremors in my fingers are evident as I lay them down in his open palm. My father slowly rotates my hand from left to
right, letting the sunshine make my ring glow. “This is quite beautiful, Dylan… just like you. Congratulations, sweetheart.”
 Chapter Four

WES

A late night of work is never fun. Let me rephrase, almost never. It depends on the players and where the party ends up after the
work is over. Tonight is all business. The job is never done. I’m on the phone with a client putting out fires, making the next
moves, negotiating the deal, or simply making a connection.
Playing basketball with Eli when we were kids wasn’t just a way to pass time. It was the beginning of a lifelong passion in
sports. I’ve been able to combine my love for a game, any game, be it on a court, field, diamond, track, or sheet of ice, with my
insane ability to bullshit and turn it into a paycheck.
I started low on the totem pole but quickly became one of the industry’s hottest up and coming agents. It came so easily. The
only time I didn’t “get the girl” so to speak, was when I flew to Italy one last time to land my favorite Formula One racer on my
roster. That ended with a new friendship, just not the deal.
I used to travel so much that Eli would give me shit that he was talking to my voicemail more than he was seeing me.
Recently, my client base has been within driving distance so I can do more up and backs. However, it’s eaten into my stockpile
of frequent flier miles for those all-important vacations.
My home office tonight isn’t my home. It’s Eli’s. He texted me earlier and filled me in on what this evening would be about
for him and Dylan. I paced around my apartment for about twenty minutes before I said fuck it, packed my files and computer
and set up shop at his dining table.
I don’t like to admit, even to myself, how his accident has impacted me. I’ve felt this need to be closer to him than ever. I
want to make sure things are easy for him, even if they aren’t. Meeting the parents is a tough go in the best of situations. This
one could be one for the books.
I’ve opened the balcony door, just in case the old school Bat Signal goes up as a last resort. I’ve been at many charity and
industry events with the Sawyers and Paul Cooper has been at his fair share. He’s got a reputation, and not a good one, from a
personability perspective. The good thing about him is he’s not dirty, but that doesn’t mean a man can’t be pushed in that
direction.
So no matter the outcome for Goose and Viper tonight, I wanted to be nearby. I’ll play it off as his beer is better and that he
owes me a rematch from last weekend’s hockey gaming classic. I’m a sore loser. He’ll take that at face value and not press the
issue of me just showing up.
I rub my hand through my hair as I pace all through my last call to the West Coast for the day. As I click the off button, the
time appears. The witching hour is upon us. This is the time they should be walking back in the door after a mountain of blame,
finger-pointing, and things some of them would regret saying, or they’d be sitting down to dinner for a happily ever after.
My phone makes a gentle landing to the table as my desire for a third round of IPA becomes a real thing. I twist the cap off
and flip it between my fingers to send it spinning to the countertop. It rattles from side to side until it comes to a stop.
A similar sound comes from the front door. It’s the twist of the deadbolt with a key. Fuck. I was right. I wish I wasn’t. The
door opens as I round the corner and catch a mess of blonde hair struggling to free the key from the lock.
“God damn this thing.”
The voice is a higher pitch than Dylan’s. Hayley.
“Yeah, because swearing at it will help.” I gently remove her hand from the key and simply pull it back to the left so the key
frees itself easily. “See, you need finesse.”
She rolls her eyes. “I don’t even want to go there.” Hayley picks up her bag off the floor and heads for the kitchen. “What are
you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question. I had work to do. Here was as good of a place as any.”
Hayley pops a couple of pints of ice cream in the freezer and a bottle of bourbon on the counter. “Is that the excuse you’re
going with? It’s a little thin, even for you.”
 “It’s the truth.”
“Yeah, sure. Okay.”
“I’ll ask again. What are you doing here?”
“Dylan messaged me while Eli was in the shower earlier. She didn’t want him to know how bad she was freaking out about
going to talk to her parents. I can’t say I blame her. I thought they would either need sweets or booze. I wanted to be prepared.”
I smile at Hayley as I lean back against the counter across from her. “You two have become close, haven't you?”
“I really like her. I mean she’s so good for Eli, but that’s not the only reason. Dylan’s a good listener and she has really great
advice. I’ve never had a sister before. I mean Tori was just there. She didn’t care about me.”
“I guess I never considered the impact their relationship had on you. She was a whole new level of self-absorbed and plain
selfishness.”
“I hate talking bad about her but selfish bitch fits. She’s goddamn lucky I didn’t see her that night at the gala or I would have
been the headline.”
“Hayles, you can always call me for bail money, and I think I would have paid to watch that.”
“Leave it to you to turn a fight into something that gets you off,” Hayley jabs, as she pushes me aside to dig into the pantry
cupboard.
“Gets me off? What do you think you know about that?”
Hayley rolls her eyes so hard I think she snaps them out of the socket while devouring a bag of Goldfish. “I’m not twelve.
Seriously. You foam at the mouth, just like most men, when they see two women go at it like that. You can’t help yourself.”
“I wouldn’t look at you like that. Just no.”
“Why, because I’m not your type? I could dye my hair red.” She winks as she slams the cracker bag against my chest.
“What are you talking about?”
“Hannah. That’s who I’m talking about. When you decide to be public where you shouldn’t be, check the room first. My
study partner’s brother was at that same event and saw you leave with her then return a few ticks of the clock later a little…
Happier, should I say?”
I can feel a flush I usually don’t feel when I’m busted. My friends have busted my chops in both positive and negative ways
when the rumor mill, or should I say the truth mill, runs their way. I’ve never had Hayley call me out before. I can honestly say
it’s the first time I’ve been even remotely embarrassed.
This is not something I’m going to talk about with her in detail. After a stunned second of silence, I walk across the room,
quietly settling in on the couch beside her. Hayley’s mindlessly scrolling through the notifications on her phone. I reach inside
the bag for a few more of those little crackers, popping them in my mouth, obnoxiously crunching them loudly. “Talking about
me? I didn’t know you felt that way. I’m flattered.”
“Oh my God. You sound like a bigger pig than I already know you are.” Hayley rips the bag from me and sets it on the table
at our feet.
“Pig? Pig, you say?”
“Yes, in more ways than one. And don’t flatter yourself. I don’t think of you unless it involves Eli.” She grabs the remote to
turn on the television. She flips relentlessly up and down the channels, never settling on one for more than a blink of an eye.
“How can you even see what’s on when you do that? Jesus, give me the remote.”
I fire up the hockey network and an East Coast game is already in the second period. “See, now there we have it.” After
tucking the remote underneath me, I cross my arms over my chest and watch not only that puck float up and down the ice, but
Hayley continuing to light up her phone every two minutes, checking the time and if she could have missed a message.
“Waiting on one of your many suitors to blow you up?”
“Suitors? What are you from 1876?”
“Look, they’ll be okay. Even if tonight hits the shitter, they’ll be okay.”
Hayley starts twisting the lock of hair falling across her shoulder over and over. She winds it until her finger begins to
redden then she loosens her hold. After about twenty times, and a power play later, she responds to my attempt at reassurance.
“I can’t watch Eli hurt anymore. I mean, he’s like a brother to you, but he is my brother. It hurts me in a way that I can’t even
talk about.”
“Hey.” Without thinking my arm slides behind her, around her shoulders, and I pull her tight to my side. She’s right. I know
that kind of pain. “I understand. I do. I’m not the obvious choice but I can listen.”
Hayley pulls up into a ball, tucking her feet underneath her. Her left hand pulls a loose portion of my sweater into the palm of
her hand. I have to listen very hard to hear the low tone of her voice. “I remember my parents always being asked if it was hard
having two kids who were so far apart in age. The answers would range from a simple not at all to Eli takes such good care of
her. He does. He always has. I know you remember the time where I broke my arm skiing, right before Christmas.
“You both were in finals hell sophomore year and Eli found out what happened. Mom couldn’t get me to stop crying so in
desperation she called Eli. He arranged to take that final online somehow and he came right home. That was the one and only
time I think he came in the front door and asked for me before even kissing my mom hello.
 “I was in my bed and he kneeled beside me. He started drawing circles on the back of my hand with his finger. It was a thing
Mom always did when we were sick, and Eli would do it too. I don’t know. Just seeing his face made it all better. He slept on
my bedroom floor for two days before he went to his room for the rest of the break.
“He’s my forever rock. When we don’t have anyone else, we have each other. Then when Tori bailed, even then you knew he
needed me. You and I were such a good team with him. We got him through. When that call from the hospital came, I thought my
world was ending. I was supposed to be getting ready quickly so we could leave, and I froze on the end of my bed.
“It took my father a few minutes to get me to move. All I could think about was did I tell him I loved him the last time I saw
him? When did he tell me last? Would we ever speak again? He’s my soulmate in the form of a brother. I sat by his side, this
time he was in the bed, and I knew all the circles couldn’t fix it.”
Hayley and I have been buddies most of her life. She has a magnetism about her, even as a little girl. You are just drawn in to
and by her. She’s smarter and wiser than her age. She sees things in very different ways and has an innate ability to empathize
with everyone. I don’t always understand it, but I always respect it.
We’ve never, however, spoken like this. The only time that came close was the first few nights after Tori moved out of their
apartment. Eli was pretty unresponsive. He’d eat, he slept like I’ve never seen him sleep, but there were very few words
unless it was about work. In those moments, it was like he flipped a switch and was present. When the call ended, the switch
flipped back.
That was one of the few times in our history I was his true wingman. I had to sort out what he needed before he needed it so I
could see eventually he’d be okay. When everything in those first hours wasn’t working, I called Hayley. There’s a magic
between them I’ve unfortunately not seen often.
Her hand is still resting in the middle of my chest when she finishes. As the horn is sounding for the end of the second period,
without thinking I start drawing circles on the back of her hand, light tiny little circles. I don’t know if this was a club I should
have asked to join before diving in, but it just feels right.
I watch through her long lashes to see if she looks up. She does. I wait for her to pull her hand away or tell me to stop. She
doesn’t. Instead, Hayley curls under her arm, rotating her body until she’s laying down with her head on my thigh. Her left hand
still stays on my chest. My finger keeps drawing the circles in all forms.
Her hair falls all around between us. Over her shoulder, in my lap. A few strands even settle over my chest. I can feel her
shoulders gently shake. Hayley isn’t one to cry often, but when she does it’s a very personal thing for her. I don’t ask her if
she’s okay. I already know that answer. I don’t try to talk at all. I keep drawing the circles over and over.
In an odd way, it feels calming to me. I should be better in these situations. I’m not. At all. Right now, what I can do, what I
am doing, is enough.

Hayley

I end up in that weird state between totally asleep and totally awake. I love that space. That’s where the best dreams can be
had.
I’m lying warm in the arms of a beautiful man. We’re under the stars. His muscles are felt on every part of my body. My
cheek is against his chest. His shirt feels like a soft pillowcase with his pecs being the best pillow ever.
His cologne smells like a mix of the woods we’re in with another scent I can’t describe. I just know I love it. Every time I
inhale, my lungs fill with it. I know I won’t ever forget that smell. The denim of his jeans weaves against mine. Our legs are all
gently twisted together like a pretzel.
My hands are pressed flat against his chest. They rise and fall with every breath he takes. I could stay with him forever, just
like this. Then I hear what sounds like a horn in the distance. However, the distance becomes less and less as the sound
intensifies.
My eyes flutter open. I didn’t realize I’d fallen asleep. It was light when I got here, now the sky is quickly going from golden
orange to the purple of early night. Before I’m fully aware, I can’t help but smile thinking about my dream. Good ones have
been few and far between since Eli’s accident.
A barely-there snore rattles beneath my cheek. The darkness of a commercial leads to the light of the ice in the hockey game
on television. That light lets me in on a little secret. My dream was only partially a dream.
I am in someone’s arms. My hands are against someone’s chest. Someone is my intoxicating pillow. My legs are in a vine
pattern. The someone is not a fantasy. In reality, I wake up to Wes and I curled up face-to-face, holding each other while we
slept.
Holy shit.
 Okay, think. Quick think. What happened?
I was talking about Eli. I rested my head on his lap, then…nothing. How did we end up in each other’s arms like this? Did he
pull me in?
My head continues to churn as he begins to stir. His breathing is so soft. The five o’clock shadow from his chin glides across
my forehead. The cologne in my head is his. That smell of the deep woods with the subtle hint of all man is something I’ve
never noticed about him.
His legs slide along mine at a snail’s pace. I remember telling him I was frozen earlier. I’m beyond that now. I’m petrified.
His eyes flutter open as his arms stretch tighter around me. I watch as the sense of realization washes over him that I’ve been
living with for the last few minutes.
Like me, he doesn’t move. We’re left staring at each other in a way we never have. His eyes are lusty and dark. His hands fit
perfectly over my spine. My hands that have been used to a steady pace beneath his skin now feel an increased beat.
He lifts his left hand from my back and begins to make tiny circles along my jawline. My eyes close in complete contentment.
He circles from my right ear all the way down to my chin. He pauses there, drawing an infinity symbol over and over again.
Wes allows his finger to slide under my chin. He allows himself inside this bubble we’ve created and presses his lips to mine.
I’ve never once wondered what it would be like to kiss him. I never had a crush on him as a young teenager. He usually
annoys the crap out of me at any given moment, except this one. His lips are so soft and tender. They make me forget who he is
and where we are. I want this taste.
He isn’t rough with me. He isn’t in some sort of feral attack mode that I’d thought would be how he operates. He’s gentle and
kind. He’s holding the back of my head with his hand like I’m a precious piece of glass.
Wow.
He allows the kiss to trail off. When his lips pull away, I’m left with the confusion of what just happened and how I feel
about it.
I open my mouth to spout a thousand questions, but nothing comes out. A line in the sand has been crossed or completely
washed away. I’m left with choices. I can fall back off the couch to gain some distance. I could kiss him again, because holy
shit. I remain suspended like the dreamlike state I prefer.
“How was your nap?” he whispers.
“Ummm, good. I, uh, don’t remember falling asleep.”
“Neither do I. Game must have been boring.”
“Wes?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you going to ignore what just happened?”
“What just happened?” he asks.
“Ummm, this. The sleeping. The holding me. Our legs. The kiss.”
Wes has always been one to have something to say in every situation. This one is no different. “The sleeping happened
because we were stressed out and tired. The holding you. You’re warm and I didn’t want you to fall off. Our legs would also
fall into that category.”
“But you kissed me.”
“You kissed me,” he lightly snarks back.
“I did not.”
“How did I end up wearing your lip gloss then?”
“Because you kissed me!”
My voice nearly screeches at the end. At the same moment, I hear a key threading the lock of the front door. Wes’s hands
open immediately, and I roll out of his arms onto the floor. I’m on all fours as I quickly toss him the remote and the pillow I
took with me.
I dash back into the kitchen, behind the privacy of the cabinet wall to check my face in the glass door of the microwave. My
hair is a mess but no more than usual. I quickly toss it on top of my head as I hear Wes greet Eli and Dylan.
“Hey. I hope you don’t mind me crashing here. Your beer is better.”
Dylan calls him out quickly. “Why do you always pretend you don’t give a fuck, when you do?” I stand in the open entry to
the kitchen. Eli is calm and even laughing. Dylan drops her purse next to mine. “Where’s your partner in crime?” she asks.
“What do you mean?” His voice cracks a little bit at the end. Maybe no one notices but me.
Drive this bus, Hayley. Drive it.
“I’m right here. I was getting a snack. We were worried so we waited. I hope you’re not mad.”
Dylan walks over to give me a hug. She lingers a bit and I look up at Eli. He’s still smiling. Things are okay. They must be
okay. “Why would we be mad? You care. That’s why we told you. This will save us from the Monday morning recap twice.”
My brother slides his jacket off, tossing it over the back of one of the living room chairs before he flops down into it. “Hey,
man,” Wes slaps the toe of Eli’s shoe, “you good?”
 “Yeah. I’m good. Exhausted but good. It’s one of those times where your goal takes over and once you’ve crushed it, you
crash out after the high.”
“What did your parents say? I mean, you don’t have to tell us, but I really want to know.”
Dylan pulls me along to the end of the couch opposite of Wes. I hoped she would sit between us, but she curls into Eli’s lap
and swings her legs over the arm of the chair. “Well, I’m surprised I made it in the door. Once I did, I wanted to run. Eli was
amazing.”
Her hand begins to massage the back of Eli’s neck. “This one really showed up big for me today. He stood up to my dad in a
way that was both respectful of him but showed clearly that he was my protector now, and that’s the way it’s going to be.”
“You went all knight in shining armor. Nice, dude. Solid choice,” Wes teases.
“Shut up,” Eli laughs. “You’ve met Paul before. This was a tricky maneuver.”
“So he backed down. That’s good,” I say.
“You undersell what you did, Eli. He told them his plans, my plans, and our plans. He told them you’re with us or we’ll go it
alone. In the end, my father ended up praising him for his approach, and I got a real compliment from him for the first time in a
long time. This was a good start.”
Wes leans forward with his elbows on the pillow I tossed him. I didn’t realize it before. It landed strategically placed and he
never moved. “See, Hayles, I told you nothing to worry about.”
Nothing to worry about. Yeah, okay. I bet if that pillow moved right now there would be questions asked. “So I brought two
pints of ice cream and a bottle of booze. I figured drowning sorrows or toasting victory. I can serve some.”
Eli begins to rub his eyes back and forth. “While I’m beyond tempted, I think I need to call it a night.” I watch as Dylan
kisses Eli’s temple. It’s just millimeters away from his scar. She also draws a couple of circles on the back of his hand.
I don’t know if that's a coincidence or not. My thoughts turn to Wes. I glance over at him out of the corner of my eye and find
he’s watching me too. “Sure thing. Rain check. I’ll just head out,” I say.
“Let me call you a cab. I don’t want you on the train this late.”
“I’ve got it, man. I’ll take her home. Give me a sec, Hayles. I’ll pack up.” He tosses the pillow and it hits me in the chest.
“Thanks, brother. I won’t worry then.”
Maybe he should be afraid. Then I wouldn’t be alone.
 Chapter Five

WES

I try to make the goodbyes seem normal. On the inside, I will confess, I’m as awkward as the kid who got caught making out
with his girlfriend by his parents walking in.
I try to play it off to Hayley that the kiss was nothing. It meant nothing. Does she buy it? I know I fucking don’t. She lit me up
like fireworks on the Fourth of July and the Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center all in one. I thanked the universe multiple
times for that pillow.
Hayley and I stand quietly at the elevator doors that head to the street. We ride silently on the train to my stop. We say only a
couple words while we get in the car at my building then head to her parents’ house. Of course, the one time she’s not staying in
her on-campus apartment is this very night. That would have been an extra train stop or two. This is twenty minutes.
Twenty minutes of us reaching for the radio at the same time. Twenty minutes of the radio gods saying we know what you did
on every station we tried to listen to. Finally, she found the hockey network and left it there. I will never hear the end of period
horn the same way again.
I press the code into the box for the gate to open to the driveway. My headlights trace the line of the concrete and solar lights
to the walkway leading from the garage to the house. Hayley can’t get out of the car fast enough. The door slams and it rattles
my body.
Fuck, I sigh.
Opening my door, I meet her in the illumination the headlights offer against the garage. “Wes, just let me go in the house.”
I press the palms of my hands against her shoulders. “No. Not until this isn’t weird.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
“Look. The first place we ever met is right here. The rim is still in the same place. Let’s shake it off. Unless you’re not
willing to be beaten?” I leave her in the glow to find my favorite ball resting in the lockbox at the base of the hoop. A couple of
good bounces later, I pass it to her.
She stops it with her foot before bending down to pick up the ball. “This doesn’t solve anything.”
“Who says it has to? Play. You remember. Unless you don’t want to break a nail?”
That does it. She drops her tote bag from her shoulder and dribbles toward me. Hayley takes a shot, and it sinks right in.
“You were saying?”
“Inbound it to me. My turn.”
We get into an actual game of one-on-one. She hasn’t lost any of her moves. I even test her to see if she’s gotten better at
going to her left. As it turns out, she has. She manipulates right around me with skill and grace. I offer a spinning layup as my
fair play.
I come down hard and growl “That’s how you do it.”
She giggles. “Maybe… in high school.”
“Oh really? Give me the ball and I’ll show you again.”
“I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Give me the ball.” I start to block her. She goes to her right; I go to my left. She goes to her left, I go to my right. She’s
boxed. There’s nowhere for her to go. My hands cover hers over the ball. We laugh, struggle, and fight for it until the ball falls
to our feet. There’s nothing left between us.
Oh yes there is.
I take her face in my hands and without hesitation, pull her lips to mine. The kiss on the couch coming out of sleep was
nothing compared to this. My fingers wind up into her hair. The pads of her fingers press into my biceps, cupping over my
shoulders. I tug on her lower lip with my teeth as I feel the heel of her shoe rubbing up and down my calf. Over the engine, I
can just barely hear the low moans coming from her.
 Her hands slide over my shoulder blades, pulling me closer. Closer. She’s not pushing away. She’s not asking what
happened. She knows. She knew then. She was asking herself the question out loud. I’m the first one to back away. I know if I
don’t, I won’t. She doesn’t deserve that.
“Hayley. I have to go. I mean I really have to go.”
I want to touch things I shouldn’t. I’m thinking things I can’t because it’s sending my body signals that I won’t be able to
ignore. My hands run down the sides of her neck, over her shoulders, and slowly trail down the cotton of her pullover sweater.
Before I break completely, my thumb runs back and forth over the knuckles on both of her hands.
I look her dead-on in the eyes and draw two light circles on the backs. It’s all I can give her. Our fingers part, but I still feel
them even as I’m retreating to my car. When I back out of the driveway, as her image in the middle gets smaller and smaller and
her details fade, I notice the tension is still vibrating in the air between us as thick as something else I could name.
The vanilla of her shampoo and the coconut of her lotion is permanently imprinted in the fabric of my passenger seat. In the
matter of a couple hours, Hayley went from my pseudo kid sister to this vibrant, intelligent, and sexy opponent I’d want to spar
with again, in more ways than one. My inner voice usually is screaming at me to stay and get after it.
What the fuck just happened?
 Chapter Six

ELIJAH

It’s funny how I didn’t realize I was a creature of habit until that chain was broken. What you miss when you can’t do those
things is enormous. I can’t take my runs in the park. The chess game moves indoors. David came to see me when I’d been home
a week or two.
My chess game turned to crap but that wasn’t what was important. I had David back and he had me. He confessed how my
injury and absence affected him. When you’re in it and the one who is hurt or hurting, you don’t often think about what it would
be like on the outside looking in.
I had that conversation with Dylan. I’m glad it’s out in the open. I should try harder to talk to those around me to reassure
them that I’m still me and I’m okay. I’m the checker. I make sure everyone else is okay, usually. The pain, random bouts of
confusion, and admittedly, the depression that comes with the pain is real.
I need to start reaching out instead of looking inward. Back to habits. Back to old stomping grounds. Back to routines and
things I love. This will let people know the worry is passing and we can look forward again.
Tomorrow is my first half day in the office in more than six weeks. Skye and Anna have been amazing at keeping my father
going, not like he needed a real shove. I’m grateful that he was able to pick up the ball. I have to admit I’m nervous to take his
seat again. Pops told me if I wasn’t nervous he’d be concerned. Listen to him.
I know Dylan is nervous for a number of reasons. Finals are looming, her audition is fast approaching, she doesn’t know if
she can mix school, dance, and work then last, but definitely not least, for her, is me. I can sense her fear. She won’t be there to
watch over me sometimes, which will drive her crazy.
The only thing she doesn’t do at home is the hard-core rehearsals. She’s cut way back on them, which I know isn’t good for
her or the audition. As much as I need my routine back, so does she.
This spring has been so warm. There’ve been more days of sun than usual. I like the symbolism of brighter days. We enjoy
this mild afternoon by doing one of the things I love the most, a walk through Central Park. There are many people out walking,
running, riding bikes, playing with their dogs, playing with their kids.
We stop and watch one family in particular. There’s a father with his young daughter. She has a pale pink bow in her hair and
in a pink dress with white tennis shoes. She’s screaming and clapping as her father flies her kite way overhead. Just behind her,
on a blanket, is her mother holding a brand-new baby in a pale green swaddle. Everything about this picture screams joy.
Dylan leans in, kissing my cheek as we walk. “I saw you.”
“Saw what?”
“I saw you watching that little girl. She was cute.”
“She was. Precious. Did you see her shoes?”
Dylan giggles. “I did. They looked like mine, only miniature.”
“I love it when you laugh. I want to hear you do it more.” I stop her and crouch down a bit. “Get on.”
“What do you mean get on? Like your back?”
“Well anything else in this public place would get us arrested, so yes, my back.”
She laughs even harder as she vaults onto my back. Dylan’s arms drape loosely around my neck. She leans in and nibbles on
my ear as we walk. I’d like to shoo her off, but I don’t for two reasons. One, no hands left, and my balance can every once in a
while hang by a thread, and two, I love every minute of it.
I want to introduce her to another friend of mine today, one that’s been a long time coming. I set her on her feet at the front
gate of the zoo. I spin her under my arm like we just completed some amazing dance move. Once she sees the sea bird exhibit
past where the sea lions are, a smile brighter than the sun appears.
“Are we going to see Bono?”
“I thought it was time you saw him in person and not just in pictures.” Dylan jumps up and down, clapping as she bounds
toward the penguin enclosure. We jog to the building, once we reach the door, she bows and opens the door for me. As if he
knew I was coming, Bono is the first penguin I see on top of a rock formation in the nearest corner of the enclosure.
He stabilizes his wings behind him and gives a good shake. As we near the glass he grows still and watches us for a minute.
I pull Dylan into my side as I press my hand against the glass where he is. “Hey, buddy. Long time no see.” Bono lets out a
squawk I can hear outside the thick glass then he tips over into the pale blue water.
He darts from one end of the pool to the other. I guess even penguins get the zoomies. All focus is on the handler after that
because we also made it for feeding time. The handler today is the one I met four years ago. He knows my connection to this
little guy and gives us a wave as we stand in the corner to watch.
I can sense Dylan looking up at me as I watch all the goings-on in the enclosure. “I knew you weren’t making it up about
Bono, but to see him in person is really cool. It’s like he knows you.”
“I’d like to think he does. He never left me, no matter what.”
“Neither will I, Eli.”
“I know, but I want you to tomorrow.”
“What?”
“I checked your schedule between classes and AnSa this week and booked you daily hours in the studio. I want you to get
back at it.”
“I can’t tomorrow. It’s your first day back. I want to go with you and help.”
“Viper, you can’t coil around me like a wall. I need things to get back to where they were. I can’t be totally me if you’re not
totally you. You can’t give to me from an empty cup. Please, be creative. Get blisters. Get sore hips so I can massage them for
you. Be so tired all you want to do is collapse on me and I can care for you. You can still be at my wing and fly solo.”
“What if you need me and I’m not there again?”
“Do you think if you don’t let me out of your sight I won’t be hurt?” Dylan wraps her arms around me, staring down into the
water as it ripples near the glass. Occasionally, a random penguin will pop out of the water in front of us to waddle along the
rocks. “I need things to go back to the way it was before we split in our daily lives but not lose what we’ve gained since. I
don’t know if that makes any sense to you.”
“It does. It doesn’t mean it won’t be hard for me.”
“Nothing worth having is easy though, right?”
“Have I said thank you yet?”
I laugh a bit. “Today? No. What are you thanking me for?”
“This. Exactly this, bringing me here for something as simple as hanging with the penguins.”
“Moving forward will only be as easy or as complicated as we make it. I mean, look at what we did with your parents. I had
a drink in your father’s study with him. I set the boundaries and expectations then look at what happened.”
“Is that what you’re doing with me?”
“Viper, I think you know by now my boundaries are shattered where you’re concerned. The only thing I’ll ever expect from
you is the truth. As long as we have that, everything else we can work out. Deal?”
“Yes. I promise.”
We watch the penguins swim, eat, and play for nearly an hour. Bono never goes far from our corner and when we leave, he
hollers with another patented flap. Reaching up with my right hand, I press my palm to the glass. He waddles over and simply
stares. “I’ll be here more often, buddy. I promise.”
Dylan wants to see where I usually play chess with David. It’s the opposite direction of home, but it’s such a beautiful day
and the more I’m out in it, the better I seem to feel. On the far side of the park are rows of tables with affixed chairs. It takes me
a minute to realize it, but David’s here today.
“You see that man two tables over, with the dark blue cardigan and driving hat? That’s David. Do you want to meet him?”
She doesn’t have to answer in words. Her smile says it for her. I weave our fingers together as we quietly walk through the
maze of tables to stand by David’s side. As we approach, I can see that he’s about two moves away from victory, if his
opponent doesn’t realize his strategy.
I look down at the pieces then back at David, hoping I can will him to his next move. He knows it too. With a wink, I know
his win is certain. We’re right and his opponent concedes. Dylan and I give them both a bit of courtesy applause.
“Well look what we have here. A couple of good luck charms. Not that I needed it, right, Frank?” David’s friend greets us
before he offers his seat to Dylan. I share a bit of the end of her bench. “It’s about time you brought your lovely lady to meet
me.”
“I’m sorry it took so long. I don’t want to speak for her, but I know she’s grateful for the time you’ve spent with me while I
was recovering.”
“You’re right, son, don’t speak for her. Never a good thing. It’s lovely to meet you, Miss Dylan. I’m David Duncan. I adopted
your future husband as my grandson about, what, Eli, four years ago now?”
“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s really nice to see your face.” They reach across for each other’s hands at the same time.
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colleagues, assumed the chief command. The French and
Austrians reoccupied the French Legation, but the barricade in
Customs-street was lost. One German only was killed and the
position was saved, but the blunder might have been
disastrous.

"It was obvious from the first that the great danger at the
British Legation was not so much from rifle-fire as from
incendiarism, for on three sides the compound was surrounded
by Chinese buildings of a highly inflammable nature. Before
time could be given to clear an open space round the Legation,
the buildings to the rear of Mr. Cockburn's house were set on
fire, and as the wind was blowing strongly towards us it
seemed as if nothing could prevent the fire from bursting into
the Legation. Water had to be used sparingly, for the wells
were lower than they had been for years, yet the flames had to
be fought. Bullets were whistling through the trees. Private
Scadding, the first Englishman to fall, was killed while on
watch on the stables near by. Men and women lined up, and
water passed along in buckets to a small fire engine that was
played upon the fire. Walls were broken through, trees hastily
cut down, and desperate work saved the building. It was the
first experience of intense excitement. Then the men set to
with a will, and till late at night were demolishing the
temple and buildings outside the wall of the Legation. Work
was continued in the morning, but when it was proposed to pull
down an unimportant building in 'the Hanlin Academy that abuts
upon the Legation to the North, the proposition was vetoed.
Such desecration, it was said, would wound the
susceptibilities of the Chinese Government. It was 'the most
sacred building in China.' To lay hands upon it, even to
safeguard the lives of beleaguered women and children, could
not be thought of, for fear of wounding the susceptibilities
of the Chinese Government! So little do the oldest of us
understand the Chinese.

"A strong wind was blowing from the Hanlin into the Legation,
the distance separating the nearest building from the
Minister's residence being only a few feet. Fire the one and
the Minister's residence would have been in danger. Suddenly
there was the alarm of fire. Smoke was rising from the Hanlin.
The most venerated pile in Peking, the great Imperial Academy,
centre of all Chinese learning, with its priceless collection of
books and manuscripts, was in flames. Everyone who was off
duty rushed to the back of the Legation. The Hanlin had been
occupied during the night by Imperial soldiers, who did not
hesitate, in their rage to destroy the foreigners, to set fire
to the buildings. It was first necessary to clear the temple.
A breach was made in the wall, Captain Poole headed a force of
Marines and volunteers who rushed in, divided, searched the
courts, and returned to the main pavilion with its superb
pillars and memorial tablets. Chinese were rushing from other
burning pavilions to the main entrance. They were taken by
surprise and many were killed, but they had done their evil
deed. … To save the Legation it was necessary to continue the
destruction and dismantle the library buildings. With great
difficulty, with inadequate tools, the buildings were pulled
down. Trees endangering our position were felled. An attempt
was made to rescue specimens of the more valuable manuscripts,
but few were saved for the danger was pressing. Sir Claude
MacDonald, as soon as the fire was discovered, despatched a
messenger to the Tsung-li-Yamên, telling them of the fire and
urging them to send some responsible officials to carry away
what volumes could be rescued, but no attention was given to
his courteous communication. The Dutch Legation was burned on
the 22nd, and next day Chinese soldiers set fire to the
Russo-Chinese Bank, and a greater part of the buildings were
destroyed, involving in danger the American Legation. Chinese
volunteers were called for. They responded readily, worked
with much courage exposed to fire from the wall, and the
Legation was saved. All the buildings back from the bank to
the Chien Mên (the main gate between the Chinese and Tartar
cities facing the entrance to the Forbidden City) seemed to be
on fire. Then all the Customs buildings were fired, so that
 flames were on every side, and the smoke was tremendous, while
the fusillade was incessant. An Italian and a German died of
their wounds. The first American was killed, shot from the
wall, then a Russian fell. They were dropping off one by one,
and already we were well accustomed to the sight of the
stretcher and the funeral. Wounded were being brought in from
every Legation to the hospital in the British Legation. …

{121}

"Then a new terror was added to the fears of the besieged, for
the Imperial troops mounted a 3 in. Krupp gun on the Chien Mên,
the gate opposite to the Forbidden City, and began throwing
segment shells from a distance of 1,000 yards into the crowded
Legation. The first shell struck the American Legation, others
burst over the British compound, while others crashed into the
upper rooms of the German Legation. It was known that the
Chinese had ten similar guns in Peking, while we had nothing
with which to answer their fire, and no one ever knew where
the next gun might be mounted. Immediately all hands dug
bomb-proof shelters for the women and children. Rifle fire
also played on the Americans from the wall quite close to them
at a distance of a few hundred feet only, whence, safely
sheltered by the parapet of the wall, men could enfilade the
barricade which was held by the Americans on the street
running east and west under the wall. The barricade became
untenable, and to occupy the wall was a paramount necessity
which could no longer be delayed. … Down in the besieged area
the enemy pressed upon every side. Again they attempted to
fire the British Legation from the Mongol market on the west;
but a sortie was made by British Marines and Volunteers, and
the Chinese were driven from house to house out of the market.
The work was dangerous, and Captain Halliday was dangerously
wounded, while Captain Strouts had an extraordinary escape,
the bullet grazing the skin above the carotid artery. The
sortie was entirely successful; some rifles were captured, and
ammunition, which was more precious than silver. The buildings
were then fired by us, the fire being kept under control,
which cleared a long distance round the west of the Legation.
Fortification proceeded without intermission and all the
defences of the besieged area quickly gathered strength. For
the first time in war, art was a feature in the fortification.
Sandbags were of every colour under the sun and of every texture.
Silks and satins, curtains and carpets and embroideries were
ruthlessly cut up into sandbags. In the Prince's Fu the
sandbags were made of the richest silks and satins, the
Imperial gifts and accumulated treasures of one of the eight
princely families of China. In the Prince's Fu the Chinese
made a determined attempt to force their way into the Palace
in their frenzy to slaughter the native Christians. In the
angle of the wall in the northeastern court of the Palace they
made a breach in the wall and rushed wildly in. But the
Japanese were waiting for them and from loopholes they had
made opposite rolled them over like rabbits, driving them
helter-skelter back again. Some 20 were killed, and but for
the unsteadiness of the Italians who were assisting the
Japanese the execution would have been greater. The Chinese
were driven back, but the same evening they threw fireballs of
petroleum over the wall and set fire to the building. Flames
spread to the splendid main pavilion of the Palace. The
Japanese in their turn were driven back, and the Christians
escaping from the burning building overflowed from the Fu into
all that quarter lying between the Palace grounds and
Legation-street.

"On June 25 a truly Oriental method of weakening our defence

was attempted by the Chinese. Up to 4 o'clock in the afternoon
the shooting of rifles and field guns had been continuous,
when suddenly bugles were sounded north, east, south, and
west, and, as if by magic, the firing ceased. It was under
perfect control—Imperial control commanded by responsible
central authority. The silence abruptly following the
fusillade was striking. Then an official of low rank was seen
to affix to the parapet of the north bridge near the British
Legation a board inscribed with 18 Chinese
characters:—'Imperial command to protect Ministers and stop
firing. A despatch will be handed at the Imperial Canal
Bridge.' A placard whereon was written 'Despatch will be
received' was sent by one of the Chinese clerks employed in
the Legation, but when he approached the bridge a hundred
rifles from the Imperial Palace gate were levelled at him. The
despatch was never received. The artifice deceived no one.
Treachery was feared, vigilance was redoubled. Sandbags were
thrown on positions which during fire were untenable. So that
when at midnight the general attack was made upon us we were
prepared, and every man was at his post. The surprise had
failed. As firing had ceased so it began. Horns were sounded,
and then from every quarter a hail of bullets poured over us,
sweeping through the trees and striking with sharp impact the
roofs of the pavilions. No harm was done though the noise was
terrific. Great steadiness was shown by the men. They lay
quietly behind the sandbags and not a shot was fired in reply.
It was suggested as an explanation of this wild firing that
the shots were to kill the guardian spirits which were known
to hover over us. Similar fusillades took place at the
American Legation and at the French Legation, and with the
same result. During the armistice the Chinese had availed
themselves of the quiet to throw up earthworks in the Carriage
Park alongside the British Legation, in the Mongol market
between the British and Russian Legations, and at both ends of
Legation-street facing the Americans on the west and facing
the French Legation corner on the east.

"Our isolation was now complete, and the enemy's cordon was
constantly drawing closer. Every wall beyond the lines was
loopholed. Not only was the besieged area cut off from all
communication with the world outside Peking, but it was cut
off from all communication with the Pei-tang. No messenger
could be induced for love or money to carry a message there.
Bishop Favier and his guards must have been already hard
pressed, for they were exposed to the danger not only of rifle
 and cannon, but of fire and starvation. The small garrison
detached from the guards was known to be inadequately supplied
with ammunition. It was known, however, that the danger of the
situation had long been foreseen by Monseigneur Favier, who,
speaking with unequalled authority, had weeks before the siege
vainly urged his Minister to bring troops to Peking. When the
crisis became inevitable and Christian refugees poured into
the city the Bishop endeavoured to buy arms and ammunition, so
that there was a hope, though a faint one, that the Chinese
themselves had assisted in the defence. So with stores. Large
quantities of grain were stored in the Pei-tang, but whether
sufficient for a siege for a garrison of 3,000 souls was not
known. Their condition was a constant source of anxiety to the
Europeans within the Legations, who were powerless to help
them. Watch was kept unceasingly for any sign of the disaster
that seemed inevitable—the massacre and the conflagration.

{122}

"Towards evening of the 28th a Krupp gun was mounted in the

Mongol market, not 300 yards from the British Legation, and
fire was opened upon a storeyed building occupied by marines
in the south court of the Legation. Fired at short range, the
shells crashed through the roof and walls. For an hour the
bombardment continued, but no one was injured, though a crack
racing pony in the stables below was killed, and next day
eaten. It was determined to capture this gun, so in the early
morning a force consisting of 26 British, ten Germans, ten
Russians, five French, and five Italians, and about 20
volunteers made a sortie from the Legation to try and capture
the gun and burn the houses covering it; but the attempt was a
fiasco. The men got tangled up in the lanes so that the reserve
line with the kerosene marched ahead of the firing line; there
was a Babel of voices, no one knew where to go, the captain
lost his head and set fire to the houses in the rear and the
men retreated pell-mell. … The Chinese, however, were alarmed
and removed the gun. Meanwhile both French and German
Legations had suffered heavily. …

"On the 29th the French Legation was hard pressed. One of
their officers, the midshipman Herbert, was shot.
Reinforcements were hastily sent from the Fu, and the attack
was repulsed; but some of the outer buildings of the Legation
were burned, and the French had to retire further into the
Legation. In this siege it was striking what a powerful part
petroleum was made to play. Already the French Legation had
suffered more severely than any other Legation; of their 45
men 16 had been killed or wounded. Krupp guns had been mounted
not 50 yards to the eastward, and the eastern walls of the
pavilions were being gradually and systematically battered
into ruins. All day now and until the cessation of hostilities
shells were pounding into the French Legation, into Chamot's
hotel, and from the Chien Mên on the wall, promiscuously,
everywhere. Much property was destroyed, but, though the
shells burst everywhere and escapes were marvellous, few
people were hit. Bullets whistled in the Legation compounds.
Surgeon Lippett was talking to Mr. Conger in the American
Legation when he was hit by a bullet that smashed the thigh
bone. Had the bullet not struck the surgeon it would have hit
the Minister. Mr. Pethick was sitting at a window of the
American Legation fanning himself when a bullet pierced the
fan. A civilian was wounded in the British Legation, and a
marine, Phillips, was killed while walking in the compound.
A fragment of shell fell on a patient inside the hospital.

"The cordon was drawing closer. In the Fu nearly one-third of

the buildings had been abandoned and the Japanese retired to a
second line of defence. Shells were fired by the hundred. On
the 29th 70 shells were thrown into the British Legation. The
difficulty of holding the American and German barricades on
the city wall was increasing. The positions were very much
exposed. A Krupp gun was brought close to the American
barricade. The Russo-Chinese Bank and all the buildings near
were occupied by Chinese troops, the walls being loopholed and
lanes barricaded. And all were so close that you could not
look through a loop-hole without being shot at. Yet the
American barricade, with its mixed guard of Americans,
Russians, and British, had to be held at all hazards;
otherwise the Krupp gun could be brought down the wall and
play havoc upon the Legations, the furthest of which—the
British—was at its nearest point not 400 yards distant. Still
more exposed than the American barricade was the outpost on
the wall held by the Germans. At first they had been
reinforced by the French and Austrians, but the needs of the
French Legation were equally pressing and the guards were
withdrawn and a small picket of British sent to aid the
Germans. … In the morning of July 1 the Chinese climbed up the
ramp and surprised the guard. The order was hastily given to
retire, and the picket, shaken by its losses of yesterday,
left the wall. The German non-commissioned officer who gave
the order was severely blamed for thus abandoning a position
that he had been ordered to hold. Withdrawal left the
Americans exposed in the rear. They saw the Germans retire,
and in a panic fell back to the Legation, rushing pell-mell
down the ramp. Nothing had occurred at the barricade itself to
justify the retreat, although two men had fallen within a few
hours before. Yet the wall was the key of the position and had
to be maintained. A conference was held at the British
Legation, and as a result orders were given to return to the
post. Captain Myers at once took back a strong detachment of
14 Americans, ten British, and ten Russians, and reoccupied
the barricade as if nothing had happened. The Chinese,
ignorant that the post had been evacuated, lost their
opportunity. Then the guard in the French Legation was driven
a stage further back and M. Wagner, a volunteer, was killed by
the bursting of a shell. …

"It was a day of misfortunes. In the afternoon the most

disastrous sortie of the siege was attempted. A Krupp gun,
firing at short range into the Fu (i. e., the Prince's
Palace), was a serious menace to our communications. Captain
 Paolini, the Italian officer, conceived the idea that he could
capture the gun if volunteers could be given him and if the
Japanese could assist. … By this ineffective sortie our small
garrison was reduced by three men killed, one officer and four
men and one volunteer wounded. Fortunately it was no worse.
The gun that was not captured was brought up again next day
into play and continued battering down the Fu walls. The enemy
were working their way ever nearer to the refugee Christians.
Their rage to reach the Christians was appalling. They cursed
them from over the wall, hurled stones at them, and threw
shells to explode overhead. Only after the armistice, when we
received the 'Peking Gazette,' did we find that word to burn
out and slaughter the converts had come from the highest in
the land. The Japanese were driven still further back. Already
they had lost heavily, for upon them had fallen the brunt of a
defence the gallantry of which surpassed all praise. When the
siege was raised it was found that of the entire force of
marines only five men had escaped without wounds; one was
wounded five times. Colonel Shiba early raised a force of
'Christian volunteers,' drilled them, instructed them, and
armed them with rifles captured from the enemy. They made an
effective addition to the Japanese strength. …

{123}

"At daybreak on July 3, the Chinese barricade on the top of

the wall near the American outpost was successfully stormed by
a party of British, Americans, and Russians, under the leadership
of Captain Myers, Captain Vroublevsky, and Mr. Nigel Oliphant.
… The position was intolerable. It was imperative to rush the
barricade and drive out the Chinese; nothing else could be
done. An attack was planned for 3 in the morning, and before
that hour a strong force of British was sent over from the
legation. The combined force assembled for the attack
consisted of 26 British marines under Sergeant Murphy and
Corporal Gregory, with Mr. Nigel Oliphant as volunteer, 15
Russians under Captain Vroublevsky, and 15 Americans, all
being under the command of Captain Myers. When asked if they
came willingly one American begged to be relieved and was sent
below. This left the total force at 56, of whom 14 were
Americans. So close were the Chinese that it was only a couple
of jumps from our barricade to their fort. There was a rush to
be first over, the fort was stormed, and dashing round the
covering wall the 'foreign devils' charged behind the
barricade. Taken by surprise the Chinese fired in the air,
fled incontinently, and were shot down as they ran along the
open surface of the wall. Captain Vroublevsky and his
detachment acted with especial gallantry, for their duty it
was to attack the Chinese barricade in the front, while the
British and Americans took it in the rear. Two banners marked
'General Ma' were captured. Fifteen Chinese soldiers of
Tung-fuh-siang were killed outright and many more must have
been wounded. Some rifles and ammunition were captured. Then
the allied forces, exposed to a heavy fire, retired within
what had been the Chinese barricade and employed it against
the enemy who had built it. Captain Myers was wounded in the
knee by tripping over a fallen spear, two Americans, Turner
and Thomas—one having accidentally jumped on the wrong side of
the barricade—were killed, and Corporal Gregory was wounded in
the foot. News of the successful sortie gave much pleasure to
the community. Chinese coolies were sent on the wall, and a
strongly intrenched redoubt was built there; the camp was made
safe by traverses. Unfortunately, the wound of Captain Myers
proved more serious than was at first suspected, and he was
not again able to return to duty. The services of a brave and
capable officer were lost to the garrison; his post on the
wall was taken most ably by Captain Percy Smith and other
officers in turn.

"Most of the shelling was now directed against the French and
German Legations and Chamot's Hotel. The hotel was struck 91
times and was several times set on fire, but the flame was
extinguished. Work continued there, however hot the shelling,
for food had to be prepared there for half the community in
Peking, Russians, French, Germans, and Austrians. The energy
of Chamot was marvellous. He fed the troops and a crowd of
Christian refugees, killed his own mules and horses, ground
his own wheat, and baked 300 loaves a day. Shelled out of the
kitchen he baked in the parlour. His courage inspired the
Chinese, and they followed him under fire with an amazing
confidence.

"Then suddenly a new attempt was made to reduce the British

Legation. Guns firing round shot, eight-pounders and
four-pounders, were mounted on the Imperial City wall
overlooking from the north the Hanlin and the British
Legation. With glasses—the distance was only 350 yards—one
could clearly see the officers and distinguish their Imperial
Peacock feathers and Mandarin hats. … Three batteries in all,
carrying five guns, were mounted on the Imperial City wall
where the bombardment could be witnessed by the Empress
Dowager and her counsellors, and day after day round shot were
thrown from them into the British Legation, into a compound
crowded with women and children. … On July 5 Mr. David
Oliphant, of the British Legation, was killed. He was felling
a tree by the well in the Hanlin when he was shot by a sniper
concealed in a roof in the Imperial Carriage Park, and died
within an hour. Only 24 years of age, he was a student of
exceptional promise and ability. …

"Day by day the Chinese were pressing us more closely. In the

Fu they were gradually wedging their way in from the
north-east so as to cut the communications between the British
and the Legations to the east. They burned their way from house
to house. Keeping under cover, they set alight the gables
within reach by torches of cloth soaked in kerosene held at
the end of long poles. If the roof were beyond reach they
threw over fireballs of kerosene, or, if still further, shot
into them with arrows freighted with burning cloth. In this
way and with the use of the heavy gun they battered a way
through the houses and courtyards of the Prince's Palace. A
 daring attempt made by the Japanese to capture the gun
resulted in failure. Coolies failed them when they were within
four yards of success, and they were forced to retire. Their
gallant leader Captain Ando was shot in the throat while
waving on his men, one marine was seriously wounded, and one
Christian volunteer killed. … By the 8th the position in the
Fu was alarming, for the Japanese force had been reduced to 13
marines and 14 volunteers; yet with decreasing numbers they
were constantly called upon to defend a longer line.
Reinforcements were sent them of half-a-dozen Customs and
student volunteers and of six British marines. Nothing can
give a better indication of the smallness of our garrison than
the fact that throughout the siege reinforcements meant five men
or ten men. Strong reinforcements meant 15 men. Our
reinforcements were counted by ones, not by companies. With
this force a line of intrenchments stretching from the outer
court of the Fu on the east across the grounds to near the
extreme northwest corner was held till the end. … The position
was one of constant solicitude, for the loss of the Fu would
have imperilled the British Legation. A Krupp gun, mounted 50
yards away, had the range and raked the post with shell and
shrapnel. To strengthen the breastwork exposure to rifle fire
was incurred from 20 yards' distance, while to reach the post
required crossing a zone of fire which was perhaps the hottest
in the whole of the defences. Many men were wounded there, and
one Italian had his head blown off. Shell fire finally made it
impossible to live there. The advanced posts were abandoned,
and the sentries fell back to the main picket. No sooner was
the advanced post abandoned than it was occupied by the
Chinese, and the defences we had made were turned against us.

{124}

"Meanwhile, the French and German Legations were being roughly

handled, and men were falling daily. At the German Legation
shells burst through the Minister's drawing-room. Most of the
other buildings conspicuous by their height were
uninhabitable, but every member of the Legation remained at
his post. So, too, in the French Legation, where the Austrians
were, Dr. and Madame von Rosthorn remained by the side of
their men. The French volunteers and Dr. Matignon stood
stanchly by their Legation, although it was fast tumbling into
ruins, their coolness and resolution being in curious contrast
to the despair of their Minister, who, crying, 'Tout est perdu,'
melodramatically burned the French archives in a ditch at the
British Legation. Chinese and French were so close that the
voices of the Chinese officers could be heard encouraging
their men. Chinese were within the Legation itself. Their guns
literally bombarded the Minister's residence 'à bout portant,'
and the noise of the exploding shells was terrific. Yet the men
never flinched. … July 11 was a day of many casualties. One
German was mortally wounded; one Englishman, one Italian, and
one Japanese were seriously wounded. Mr. Nigel Oliphant, a
volunteer, received a bullet wound in the leg, while Mr.
Narahara, the well-known secretary of the Japanese Legation,
wounded by the bursting of a shell, suffered a compound
fracture of the leg, which from the first gave cause for
anxiety. He gradually sank and died on July 24. …

On the 11th 18 prisoners were captured by the French in a

temple near the Legation. They were soldiers, and a Chinese
Christian gave information as to their whereabouts. Everyone
of them was put to death without mercy in the French Legation,
bayoneted by a French corporal to save cartridges. Questioned
before death they gave much information that was obviously
false. One man, however, declared that a mine was being driven
under the French Legation. His story had quick corroboration.
As the afternoon of the 13th was closing a feint attack was
made on the Japanese intrenchments in the Fu. Then the sound
of many bugles was heard from the camps round the French
Legation, to be followed in a few minutes by a terrific
explosion, and in a moment or two by another; and bricks and
debris were hurled into the air. It was a dull roar in the
midst of the devilish cries of hordes of Chinese, shrieking
like spirits in hell, the rattle of musketry, and the boom of
heavy guns. The mine of which the prisoner had warned us had
exploded and burst an entrance into the French Legation. When
the first mine exploded the French Captain Darcy, the Austrian
Charge d'Affaires, two French marines, and Mr. Destelan of the
Customs were standing over the death-trap. Mr. Destelan was
buried up to the neck, but was rescued unhurt, the two marines
were engulfed and their bodies were never recovered, Captain
Darcy and Dr. von Rosthorn escaped miraculously. The latter
was buried by the first explosion and released unhurt a moment
or two later by the second. Driven out of the main buildings,
the small garrison (it consisted only of 17 Austrians with
three officers, 27 French with two officers, and nine
volunteers) fell back a few paces to a line of defence, part
of which had only been completed in the afternoon, and
securely held the position.

"Simultaneously with this attack upon the French Legation the

Chinese made a determined assault upon the German Legation,
the effective strength of whose garrison numbered only one
officer and 31 men. They broke into the Club alongside the
Legation and were on the tennis ground when Count Soden and a
handful of German soldiers gallantly charged them at the point
of the bayonet and drove them out headlong. … Uniforms on the
dead Chinese showed that the attack had been carried out by
the troops of Yung Lu, reinforced by the savages of
Tung-fuh-siang. Some of the dead were armed with the latest
pattern Mauser and the newest German army revolver. Some
ammunition, of which the guards were in much need, was
recovered and distributed among the Japanese and Italians.
Firing continued round the other Legations; every battery
opened fire; the air hissed with bullets. There was momentary
darkness, then flames broke out from the large foreign houses
between the German Legation and Canal-street. It seemed at one
time as if the whole of the quarter would be burned, but the
fire did not spread. Heavy rain came on, and the rest of the
night passed in quiet.
"On July 14, a messenger, sent out on the 10th, with a letter
for the troops, returned to the British Legation. He had been
arrested by the Chinese, cruelly beaten, and taken, he said,
to the yamên of Yung Lu, and there given the following letter,
purporting to be written by Prince Ching 'and others,'
addressed to the British Minister. It was the first
communication of any kind whatsoever that had reached us from
outside for nearly one month. 'For the last ten days the
soldiers and Militia have been fighting, and there has been no
communication between us, to our great anxiety. Some time ago
we hung up a board, expressing our intentions, but no answer
has been received, and contrary to expectation the foreign
soldiers made renewed attacks, causing alarm and suspicion
among soldiers and people. Yesterday the troops captured a
convert named Chin Ssu-hei and learnt from him that all the
foreign Ministers 'were well, which caused us very great
satisfaction. But it is the unexpected which happens. The
reinforcements of foreign troops were long ago stopped and
turned back by the "Boxers," and if, in accordance with
previous agreement, we were to guard your Excellencies out of
the city, there are so many "Boxers" on the road to Tien-tsin
and Ta-ku that we should be apprehensive of misadventure. We
now request your Excellencies to first take your families and
the various members of your staffs, and leave your Legations
in detachments. We should select trustworthy officers to give
close and strict protection, and you should temporarily reside
in the Tsung-li-Yamên, pending future arrangements for your
return home, in order to preserve friendly relations intact
from beginning to end. But at the time of leaving the
Legations there must on no account whatever be taken any
single armed soldier, in order to prevent doubt and fear on
the part of the troops and people, leading to untoward
incidents. If your Excellencies are willing to show this
confidence, we beg you to communicate with all the foreign
Ministers in Peking, to-morrow at noon being the limit of
time, and to let the original messenger deliver the reply in
 order that we may settle the day for leaving the Legations.
This is the single way of preserving relations which we have
been able to devise in the face of innumerable difficulties.
If no reply is received by the time fixed, even our affection
will not enable us to help you.
Compliments.
(Signed) Prince Ching and others.
July 14, 1900.'

{125}

"Following as it did immediately after the attack on the

French Legation, which reduced it to ruins, the letter did not
lack for impudence. 'Boxers' had driven back our troops,
'Militia,' not 'Boxers,' had been attacking us in Peking. The
letter was read with derision. It was interpreted as a
guileless attempt to seduce the Ministers away from their
Legations and massacre them at ease. News we heard
subsequently had just reached the Chinese of the taking of
Tien-tsin city. … On the 15th a reply was sent declining on
the part of the foreign representatives the invitation to
proceed to the Tsung-li-Yamên, and pointing out that no
attacks had been made by our troops, who were only defending
the lives and property of foreigners against the attacks of
Chinese Government troops. The reply concluded with a
statement that if the Chinese Government wished to negotiate
they should send a responsible official with a white flag. …

"The morning of the 16th opened with a disaster. Captain

Strouts, the senior British officer, was shot while returning
from the outposts in the Fu. He was struck in the upper part
of the left thigh by an expanding bullet, and died an hour
after being brought into the hospital, to the grief of the
entire community. … While shells were bursting in the trees,
and amid the crack of rifle bullets, the brave young fellow to
whose gallant defence we all owed so much was laid to rest. …
While the service was proceeding a messenger bearing a flag of
truce was approaching the gate. … The letter was from 'Prince
Ching and others.' It explained that the reason for suggesting
the removal of the Legations to the Tsung-li-Yamên was that
the Chinese Government could afford more efficient protection
to the members of the Legations if concentrated than if
scattered as at present. As the foreign Ministers did not
agree, however, the Chinese would as in duty bound do their
utmost to protect the Legations where they were. (While the
latter sentence was being read the translator had to raise his
voice in order that it should be heard above the crack of the
Imperial rifle bullets.) They would bring reinforcements and
continue their endeavours to prevent the 'Boxers' from firing,
and they trusted that the foreign Ministers on their part
would restrain their troops also from firing.

"By the same messenger a cipher message was brought to Mr.

Conger, the American Minister. It said:—'Communicate tidings
bearer.' It was in the State Department cipher and had no date
or indication by whom it had been sent. Mr. Conger replied in the
same cipher:—'For one month we have been besieged in British
Legation under continued shot and shell from Chinese troops.
Quick relief only can prevent general massacre.' When
forwarding his reply he asked that it should be sent to the
address from which the other had come, which address had not
been communicated to him. Next day the Yamên sent him an
answer saying that his message had been forwarded and
explaining that the telegram sent to him had been contained in
a telegram from Wu Ting Fang, the Chinese Minister at
Washington, dated July 11. This telegram read:—'The United
States cheerfully aid China, but it is thinking of Mr.
Minister Conger. The Hon. Secretary of State inquires after
him by telegram, which I beg to be transmitted to him and get
his reply.' From this we could well imagine what specious
assurances had been given to Mr. Hay by Wu Ting Fang's bland
assurances that there had been a most regrettable outbreak on
the part of lawless bands in the north of China which the
Government was vainly struggling to cope with. … From July 17
there was a cessation of hostilities; not that men were not
wounded afterwards and Christian coolies fired upon whenever
they showed themselves, but the organized attacks ceased and
the Krupp guns were muzzled. Fearing treachery, however, we
relaxed none of our vigilance. Trenches were cut where mines
might have been driven. All walls and shelters were so
strengthened as to be practically shell-proof. Our
preparations were purely defensive. On their part the Chinese
also continued work at their barricades. From their barricade
on the top of the wall near the German Legation they advanced
westward so that they could fire directly down into the German
Legation and pick off men going up the steps of the Minister's
house. They built a wall with loop-holes across
Legation-street not 20 yards from the Russian barricade. In
nearly every position the enemy were so close that you could
shoot into the muzzles of their rifles thrust through the
loop-holes. The cordon was still drawn tightly round us, and
we were penned in to prevent our acting in co-operation with
the troops who were coming to our relief. No provisions were
permitted to reach us, but a few eggs for the women and
children were surreptitiously sold us by Chinese soldiers. All
were on reduced rations, the allowance for the 2,750 native
Christians whom we had to provide for being barely sufficient
to save them from starvation. Their sufferings were very
great, the mortality among the children and the aged pitiful.
No one could have foreseen that within the restricted limits
of the besieged area, with the food supply therein obtainable,
473 civilians (of these 414—namely, 191 men, 147 women, 76
children—were inside the British Legation), a garrison of 400
men, 2,750 refugees, and some 400 native servants could have
sustained a siege of two entire months. Providentially in the
very centre of Legation-street there was a mill with a large
quantity of grain which turned out 900 lb. of flour a day
divided between the hotel and the Legation. One day the
Tsung-li-Yamên insultingly sent us a present of 1,000 lb. of
flour and some ice and vegetables, but no one would venture to
eat the flour, fearing that it might be poisoned.
 Communications now passed almost daily with the Tsung-li-Yamên
or with the officials whose despatches were signed 'Prince
Ching and others.' On July 17, Sir Claude MacDonald replied to
the suggestion that the Ministers would restrain their troops
from firing upon the Chinese. He said that from the first the
foreign troops had acted entirely in self-defence, and would
continue to do so. But the Chinese must understand that
previous events had led to a want of confidence and that if
barricades were erected or troops moved in the vicinity of the
Legations the foreign guards would be obliged to fire. In the
afternoon the Chinese replied, reviewing the situation and
ascribing the hostilities to the attacks previously made by
the Legation guards. They noted with satisfaction that a
cessation of firing was agreed to on both sides, but suggested
that as foreign soldiers had been firing from the city wall
east of the Chien Mên, they should be removed from that
position.
{126}
Next day, Sir Claude MacDonald replied with a review of the
situation from the foreign point of view. … He hoped that
mutual confidence would gradually be restored, but meanwhile
he again pointed out that cessation of hostile preparations as
well as firing was necessary on the part of the Chinese troops
to secure that the foreign troops should cease firing. As for
the suggestion that the foreign troops should leave the city
wall, it was impossible to accede to it, because a great part
of the attacks on the Legations had been made from the wall.
He concluded by suggesting that sellers of fruit and ice
should be allowed to come in. They were never permitted to
come in. It was clear, however, that events were happening
elsewhere to cause alarm in the Imperial Court. On the
afternoon of the first day of what might be called the
armistice M Pelliot, a French gentleman from Tongking, entered
the Chinese lines and to the great anxiety of all was absent five
hours. He was taken by soldiers to a yamên of one of the big
generals—he knew not which—was plied with questions which,
speaking some Chinese, he could answer, and was sent back
unmolested with an escort of 15 soldiers 'to protect him
against the Boxers.' This unusual clemency was interpreted
favourably. It was clear that the Chinese had sustained a
severe defeat and that relief was coming. Next day direct
communication was for the first time held with an official of
the Tsung-li-Yamên. A secretary named Wen Jui came to the
Legation to see Sir Claude MacDonald and was received by the
Minister outside the gate, not being permitted to enter. He
said that the regrettable occurrences were due to 'local
banditti,' that the Government had great concern to protect
the foreigners, that Baron von Ketteler's body had been
recovered from the hands of the 'local banditti' who had
murdered him and been enclosed in a valuable coffin. He urged
that the maintenance of foreign troops on the city was
unnecessary and that they should be withdrawn. It was pointed
out to him that, as we had been very continuously shelled from
the city wall both from the Ha-ta Mên and the Chien Mên, it
would be inadvisable to retire. Asked to send copies of the
'Peking Gazette,' he hesitated a moment and then stammered
that he really had not himself seen the 'Peking Gazette' for a
long time, but he would inquire and see if they could be
bought. He never came back and never sent a 'Gazette.' His
name was Wen Jui. When we did obtain copies of the 'Gazette'
it was interesting to find two items that must have been
especially unpleasant for him to have us know. On June 24, by
Imperial decree, leaders were appointed to the 'Boxers,' or
'patriotic militia.' Among the chiefs was Wen Jui.

"The visit of Wen Jui was on the 18th. Up to the time of his
visit, though more than four weeks had passed since the
assassination, no allusion of any kind whatever had been made
in any 'Peking Gazette' to the murder of Baron van Ketteler.
Then the Empress-Dowager, yielding to her fears, published an
allusion to the murder. Will the German Emperor rest satisfied
with the tardy official reference to the brutal assassination
of his Minister by an Imperial officer? 'Last month the
Chancellor of the Japanese Legation was killed. This was,