Page 84 of Sight of Fate

A few minutes later, he stops at the base of a mountain.

I wave a hand toward my flats. “Umm, I don’t think I’m dressed for climbing mountains.”

His lips twitch. “I could fly you up there.”

“I don’t even know if you’re a good flyer,” I say, only half joking. “Is there a third option?”

The corners of his mouth turn up. “If you insist.” Getting out, he comes around and helps me down, then grabs the picnic basket. Taking my hand, he pulls me into the woods and over to a…hillside tram. “Voilà!”

I smile in relief. “That I can do.”

He opens the door, and I get in and sit on one side. He puts the picnic basket on the opposite seat and sits next to me. Then he hits the button, and the tram slowly ascends the mountain. When it stops, I see a glass building.

“What is it? A tiny home?”

He laughs. “Even better. It’s a refuge.”

He pulls me over to the building, and when we step inside, I find it’s encased by nature on three sides. But the fourth is completely open; all of Greystone is spread out in front of us.

“Macklin needed a place to escape where the town couldn’t find him, but he could still feel like he was close enough to reach them if something came up,” he says, setting the picnic down on the small table. He pulls me over to the couch. “But the moment I sat down and looked out this window, I knew it would also become a refuge for me.”

“It feels like you can breathe up here,” I tell him, catching his excitement. Turning in a circle, I note the couch and end table that serve as the living room. In the corner sits a queen-size bed. And on the other side, a kitchen stands along one wall with a small dining table. “I love it.”

He tugs me back to the small table and pulls out my chair. Once I’m seated, he opens the basket and pulls out an odd assortment of food.

When it begins to feel never-ending, I tilt my head. “What in the world?”

He smiles. “Don’t worry. Most of the portions are tiny. I asked them for an assortment of things for us to try. Like a food adventure.”

Intrigued, I study the small dishes spread out before us. “This is going to be fun.” I glance up at him. “Let’s start with your favorite, since you’ve been to the deli before.”

He picks up a small sandwich. “This one. A chicken fillet roll. Makes me think of home.” Cutting it in half, he places one on my plate and the other on his.

I bite into it and realize it’s a piece of chicken that’s been dipped into a batter and fried. But the oddest thing is it sits on a bun with butter and mayonnaise. “It’s good.”

He huffs, but I see the twinkling in his blue-grey eyes. “Hmm, okay, let’s see. You’re from the South, right? You might like this one.” He picks up a small wedge and cuts it in half, then puts one on my plate.

I take a bite and wrinkle my nose. “You’re going to think I’m picky.”

“You don’t like pimento cheese?” He sounds shocked. “Are you sure you’re southern?”

I laugh and pick through the small containers. “I know. My mother used to shake her head at that one too. Ooh, now this, I love.” I place one stuffed cabbage roll on his plate, and the other on mine.

He takes a bite and nods. “It’s good. What is it?”

“Sweet and sour cabbage rolls. They were always one of my favorites,” I tell him. “Have you ever had the potato soup at the café? Vic makes it from scratch. It reminds me of my mother’s. Well, she learned it from my grandmother.”

“I haven’t. We’ll have to eat there one night. You didn’t learn the recipe?” he asks, picking up another container. Opening it, he sets an odd-looking egg on my plate.

“I know the recipe, but I’m a terrible cook,” I admit with a sigh. “Macklin’s kitchen is safe from me.”

“Me too,” he says with a laugh. “Did you know your grandmother?”

“I did. She passed when I was seven,” I say with a smile. “She always smelled like fresh baked cookies. What about your family?”

He gives me a half smile. “I don’t remember my family. Gargoyles used to send their children to the academy to be raised by the military.”

My mouth drops open. “So, you never had a home?”