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One week later…
My door creaks open without a knock, and I know it’s Rafe before I see him. I’ve been avoiding him for the last week. I made Ginna pass a note to him in my absence, writing that we needed to lie low for a while as someone had found out about us. Rafe was reckless enough that I knew that wouldn’t holdhim off forever.
“Cal?” Rafe approaches me where I’m sitting in the oversized chair by the fire in my room.
He’s been growing both his beard and hair out, beard reaching past his chin now and his hair not quite long enough to be pulled back. Rafe is truly handsome, in a rugged type of way, and I can’t help but to appreciate his appearance.
After our first kiss many years ago, we’d become inseparable. We had always been best friends, but the new romantic level to our relationship was indescribable. He brought me a peace I had never felt before. Made me believe in a better version of myself.
And I might have to ruin it all because of the King.
I hadn’t yet decided on what I was going to do. On one hand, I knew the King’s threat was very real and being with Rafe was a risk to the safety of both of us. On the other hand, without Rafe in my life, life wouldn’t be worth living.
I quickly plaster what I hope is a pleasant expression on my face and pull a blanket over my lap, hiding my hands under the fur. “Hello, Rafe.”
Rafe casts me a ‘cut the bullshit’ look. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
I could never hide much from Rafe. Even when I had to feed him lies, he saw through me like glass.
“I’ve been busy with work. Not much going on. How have you been? Were you able to meet with that dignitary from Marsai this week?” I keep my tone as upbeat and nonchalant as possible.
Rafe sits in the chair across from me, rubbing his temples.
“Why do we always have to do this?”
“Do what?”
“This!” Rafe throws his hands up in frustration. “This game of me asking you what’s wrong. You feeding me some bullshit I never believe. And the cycle continuing.”
“Nothing’s wrong, Rafe. I’m sorry I haven’t had a chance to see you this week. Like I wrote in my note Ginna gave you, someone –”
“Take the blanket off, Callum.” Rafe using my full name is a slap to the face. I didn’t understand the extent of his anger until now. He hasn’t uttered my full name since we were children.
“I’m fine. Please. Just let this go.” My voice sounds more snappish than I intended.
That was the wrong response. Rafe stands up and rips the blanket off me roughly, and I can’t hide the immediate burst of pain that flashes across my face as the fabric moves against my healing hands.
The injury to my hands is now undeniable, bandages wrapped tightly around them. Rafe’s face glows in the firelight, eye twitching as he takes in my condition.
“I’ll ask you this one more time,” Rafe demands coolly. “What. Happened.”
I open my mouth to respond, but Rafe cuts me off. “Think hard about what you’re going to say. If it’s anything but the truth, save it.”
I take a deep breath. “My hands were slammed in a door.”
That was the truth. And luckily Rafe acknowledges that with a slow nod.
“Both of them? How did you manage that?”
This is a trickier question to answer truthfully.
“By making a poor judgment call.”
That’s not technically a lie. Maybe it’s not the whole story, but it wasn’t not the truth.
Being reckless with Rafe around the King’s supposed spies was poor judgment in my case. We should have been more careful. More aware of our surroundings.
