“That sounds like a good idea.”
“Changes?” I eat more of the delicious pancakes. “I thought the cave was perfect already.”
“That’s sweet of you, Moira.” Peter runs his finger around the edge of my pancakes and licks the syrup from the tip. “But we can’t have pirates or anyone else sneaking up on us, not when you’re here. I promised to keep you safe, remember?”
“Right.” I put my fork down and wipe my mouth with my napkin. “I’m stuffed.”
“Good.” Peter smiles, his youthful face absolutely adorable.
Wait, did he say pirates? I look down at my plate.Pirates. My head begins to throb, and I rub my temples. There’s something about pirates I need to tell him. But what? I don’t know anything about them. Just that they’re vicious and cruel.
“What is it?” Peter reaches out and takes my hand. “Something wrong?”
I blink hard a few times. “No. I guess I’m just too full to think straight. Don’t worry about it.”
He squeezes my hand and lets go. “I want you full and happy.”
“Done and done.”
“I can’t wait for your story tonight.” He rises from his spot at the table. “Can you tell one of your own? Those are my favorite.”
“Sure.” I’m beyond flattered that he likes my stories, but I try not to preen too much about it.
“Great. Come on, Nibs. Show me the fortifications.” Peter claps him on the shoulder.
Nibs takes a final huge bite of his pancakes and follows Peter out of the kitchen.
I look around the table. “Where are Coy and Foy?”
Slightly pauses what he’s doing at the stove, and Curly rises abruptly.
“I’m going to the lagoon.” Curly hurries from the kitchen, leaving only Slightly and me.
“Weird.” I finish my juice and take my dishes to the sink. “What’s gotten into Curly?”
“Nothing.” Slightly keeps his back to me as he flips his pancake. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“I’ll wash these.” I grab the dish cloth, but Slightly turns and puts his hand on mine. “You already do plenty, Moira. It’s all right.” His tone is soft, almost sad.
“Are you okay?”
He meets my eyes, and I realize he has dark half-moons beneath his.
“Oh, Slightly. You look sick. Are you getting enough rest? I can tell Peter to go easy on?—”
“No.” He takes my hands in his. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me, Moira. I don’t deserve it.” He squeezes my hands. “Go on now. I’ll handle the dishes.”
“What do you mean? Of course you deserve it.” I smile up at him.
His eyes water, and he clears his throat. “Just go, Moira. Please. I’ll clean up. I just need a little space is all.”
I don’t understand, and I want to dig deeper, but I’m not going to ignore his request for space. “Okay. I’m around if you change your mind.”
He nods. “Thanks.”
I walk out of the kitchen and toward the room with the waterfall. It feels like I haven’t been here in ages, but of course I have. I’ve been here for … Well, now that I come to think about it, I don’t remember how long I’ve been with Peter. Long enough to know this is where I belong, I suppose.
I keep going, passing through the room with all the tree trunks and farther until I double back. When I get to our bedroom, I lean against the doorframe.
