The summer heat had been merciless that afternoon, pressing down on the small group of children playing in the shadow of the old stone church. The backs of their necks were burned crimson from the blazing sun, and even the ancient oak trees seemed to wilt under its intensity. Eden's golden hair was tied back with a white ribbon that had long since come loose, wild strands clinging to her damp forehead and cheeks. She stood close to Lila, practically attached at the hip as always, but her green eyes kept drifting toward Micah, who sat peacefully in the shade of the largest oak, a worn leather Bible cradled in his small hands.
Rowan's once-white shirt was now thoroughly caked with dirt and grass stains, the fabric clinging to his thin frame, but he didn't seem to notice or care. His dark hair stuck up at odd angles, and there was a mischievous glint in his brown eyes that Eden had learned to recognize—and fear.
"Bet you won't climb it," Rowan said suddenly, his voice cutting through the lazy afternoon air. He pointed a grimy finger at the narrow wooden staircase that wound up the outside of the church tower, disappearing into the shadows above.
Eden's stomach immediately knotted. "We're not supposed to," she whispered, instinctively looking over her shoulder toward where the adults sat on the church steps, fanning themselves and speaking in low voices. "Pastor Williams said—"
"Doesn't matter what he said," Rowan interrupted, already taking a step toward the forbidden stairs. "It's just wood and stairs. Not magic. Not gonna hurt you."
Without waiting for her response, he started walking up the creaking steps, his bare feet making soft slapping sounds against the weathered wood.
Eden hesitated, her heart hammering against her ribs. The twisted feeling in her stomach grew worse as she watched Rowan's figure grow smaller above her. Lila had already wandered away, drawn to a group of older girls who were playing some elaborate game near the church garden, their laughter floating on the humid air. Eden hated when Rowan did this—pulled her into his schemes without even looking back to see if she was following, as if her participation was simply assumed.
But she followed anyway, her small hands gripping the rough wooden railing as she began to climb. Each step creaked ominously under her weight, and she could hear the wind rattling the ancient shutters high above. The higher she climbed, the more the structure seemed to sway, and she could feel splinters catching at her palms.
When she reached what felt like the halfway point, Eden stopped abruptly. The wind was stronger here, whipping her hair free from its ribbon entirely and making her white babydoll dress flutter around her knees. Below, the other children looked like dolls, and the height made her dizzy.
"I'm going back," she called up to Rowan, her voice barely audible over the wind. "We'll get in trouble. You know we will."
Rowan turned from where he stood several steps above her, just a dark silhouette against the brilliant stained glass window that decorated the tower. When he spoke, his voice echoed strangely in the confined space.
"You're scared."
The words hit her like a physical blow, and she flinched as if he'd actually struck her.
"Am not," she shot back, but her voice wavered, betraying her.
"Yes, you are. That's why you always tattle on everyone."
"I don't!" The protest burst out of her, high and defensive.
"You told on Lila for sneaking candy during Sunday school last week."
"That was different," Eden insisted, her cheeks burning with more than just the heat. "She was—"
"It's always different for you," Rowan said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Always got some excuse."
He turned his back on her and continued climbing, his footsteps growing fainter as he ascended toward the bell tower.
Eden stood frozen on the narrow step, her small fists clenched so tightly at her sides that her knuckles went white. Tears of frustration and shame pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them back furiously. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. When she finally turned to make her way back down, her throat burned with unshed tears and swallowed pride.
The descent felt even more treacherous than the climb up. Each wooden step groaned and protested under her feet, and she had to grip the railing tightly to keep her balance. Above her, she could hear Rowan moving around in the bell tower, probably touching things he shouldn't, doing exactly what they'd been told not to do. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest, trying to ignore the way her white dress was now smudged with dirt and the way her ribbon had been lost to the wind.
She was almost to the bottom, feeling a surge of relief, when disaster struck.
Her right foot came down on what looked like a solid step, but the aged wood gave way with a sharp crack that echoed like a gunshot. Eden screamed as her leg plunged through the broken board, splinters tearing at her skin and catching her dress. The momentum of her fall drove her deeper, and she felt the wood crumbling around her as her weight pulled her down. Panic seized her as she realized she was going to fall completely through—the ground looked impossibly far below.
"Help!" she cried out, her voice cracking with terror. "Rowan! Help me!"
She struggled desperately, trying to pull herself up, but every movement only made the damaged step crumble further. She was hip-deep in splintered wood now, her legs dangling in empty air, and she could feel herself slipping deeper with each passing second. Her breath came in short, panicked gasps, and tears finally spilled down her cheeks.
Just when she thought she would fall, strong hands grabbed her arms. Rowan had appeared as if from nowhere, his face pale but determined as he hauled her up from the broken step. For a moment, she was in his arms, and she could smell the familiar scent of dirt and summer sweat that always seemed to cling to him. He carried her down the remaining steps and set her carefully on solid ground.
Eden stood there for a moment, shaking and trying to catch her breath. Her legs were scratched and bleeding, her dress was torn, and she could still feel splinters embedded in her palms. When she finally looked up at Rowan, her lip began to quiver with a mixture of relief, fear, and anger.
"You made me do that!" she accused, pointing a trembling finger at him. "This is all your fault! I told you we shouldn't—"
"You're an idiot," Rowan interrupted, his voice flat and cold. "Watch your step next time."
Without another word, he pushed past her and walked away, leaving her standing alone beside the damaged staircase.
Eden stood there, stunned by his callousness, watching his retreating figure until he disappeared around the corner of the church. The other children were still playing, oblivious to what had happened, and the adults remained absorbed in their conversations.
Later that evening, when Pastor Williams discovered the loosened bell rope and noticed the dust and debris scattered across the tower floor, it didn't take long for him to piece together what had happened. Rowan was called forward in front of the entire congregation, and the sharp crack of the pastor's belt against the back of his legs echoed through the sanctuary. Eden watched from her pew, her stomach churning with guilt and confusion.
She hadn't told on him—hadn't said a word about their climb or her fall—but when Rowan's eyes met hers across the church, she saw nothing but cold accusation in his gaze. In that moment, she realized that the truth didn't matter. He would always believe she had betrayed him, and perhaps that belief would shape everything that came between them in the years to follow.