Page 120 of Fallacies

Out of my peripheral, someone sits on the crate beside me. “Give her some time, Cal.”

I look over at Pax, his chin tipped to the sky. He’s calm, unaffected, confident. But he isn’t in the same position I’m in. He doesn’t understand it. What I’d give to have his kind of patience.

“I don’t really have a choice,” I remind him.

“Lucina is smart.”

“I know that.”

Pax exhales, pretending not to be frustrated with my clipped tone. Impeccable patience. “And,” he adds, “she has an extra layer of defense. She’s better off than any of us.”

I know that too. And all I did was make her feel bad about it before she left. I opened my stupid mouth and spilled things that should have stayed buried. My inner turmoil is my burden to carry, not hers.

Rolling out my neck, I try to erase the image I have of her, staring blankly back at me last night. No emotion on her face. I’d broken her so badly that she completely detached from the feeling.

I blow out a breath, returning my attention to the sky. “Yeah.”

Pax’s head turns, staring into my profile, but he doesn’t say anything. I’m content to let the silence swell between us, but that’s wishful thinking. Especially with Paxton.

“We haven’t talked about it.”

His words sink like weights in my gut. “Talked about what?”

Pax snorts, his voice muffled around the bottle of cider he lifts to his mouth, “You’re so bad at that.”

If I wasn’t so focused on the sky, I’d spare the time to knock him off his seat.

“Despite how badly I know you want to bury it, Cal, you can’t do that with this. You know that, right?”

“I’m fine,” I assure him, and I don’t mean for it to come out as snappy as it does, but I’m frustrated and tired, and I’d rather walk through the fire behind me than dissect my feelings right now. “I appreciate the concern, but I’m not burying it. I’m…prioritizing.”

“Gods, Cal, you can’t⁠—”

I cut him off with an arm across his chest.

The star above us flashes three times. Three. Times.

Safe.

“Thank fuck.” I can feel the relief sweep in and wash everything else away. Everything. I waste no time signaling back to her, manipulating the same star in a sequence of quick flashes.

Hurt?

“She’s good?” Pax asks.

Two flashes follow almost immediately. No.

“She’s good,” I confirm, a much-needed smile tugging at my lips. But as soon as the star finishes flashing with her next response, it falls right off my face.

Hundred.

“What’s she saying now?” Easton joins us, moving to stand behind me.

My mouth has gone dry, so it takes me a second to form the words and even longer to voice them: “She…found them.”

“Chiaros,” Pax curses.

I hear the approaching footsteps of the rest of my coven but don’t look around to confirm, focusing entirely on that one little star. It’s my only tie to her. The only proof I have of her well-being.