Did she hear me?
Oh gods, what will I do?
How do I explain?
A million thoughts run through my head before she settles, and I sag so hard I’m face down at the table.
That was close.
“Watch what you say!” Titus growls, his voice low and full of promises of violence.
I deserve that.
“Sorry,” I mumble, not bothering to pick up my head.
I’m going to need a minute.
I have no idea what they do to those who expose us, but I don’t want to find out. It’s something that gets talked about like the boogeyman, and I’d like to keep going on with my life as if that’s only just fiction.
It’s quiet for a while, but even after that, my question still nags at me.
I lift my head to find Titus has finished his pancakes. He stacks his sheet music in a pile that he tucks under his arm before he stands, grabbing his plate to take to the sink.
“So do you?” I ask, unable to curb my curiosity despite knowing I need to mind my own damn business.
Titus freezes, his back going rigid for a moment before he sets his plate down in the sink.
For a second, I think he’s ignoring me until he sighs, and I swear I can hear the weight of it.
“I think it’s certainly possible…”
I wait, expecting more, though I’m not sure what. It’s not like there’s any explanation of destiny; it just kind of does whatever it wants.
He makes it a few steps, and I get the feeling he’s had enough of this conversation, but I just have one more question, and at this point, I might as well ask it.
“And if she is?”
He stumbles, tripping over his own feet before he catches himself and simply stands there a moment, eyes closed as if the idea physically pains him.
Mates are rare, like really rare, and even more so for the fae.
This time, he does ignore me as he leaves, walking quickly as if worried I might ask something else, and I don’t blame him. I can’t imagine the way he must feel knowing the man he loves might not be his much longer.
Yeah, suddenly his distaste for her makes a lot more sense.
How I can look forward to something and wish I never had to do it at the same time is enough to give me whiplash.
I usually avoid my father like he’s the hook in the water, but right now I’m actively seeking him out.
This won’t end well; it never does.
And yet I’m going anyway because I know Gavin needs her gone if he wants any chance at remaining sane this year.
Of all the people to walk through that door, she was the last person I expected, and for them to have no other rooms sounds like such a piss-poor job of management. It’s not that hard.
Not that we should have a fifth roommate, regardless of all that. The portal to the second pool house had been his fucking idea.
A way for him to guarantee I was ‘winning material,’ his words, not mine.
