Page 70 of In Somnis

Was that how mine looked when I told him the exact same thing moments ago?

Huh, so we’re both doing that.

“Just busy,” he continues. “Running an inn, making sure Jasper doesn’t accidentally summon a demon with his tarot cards, you know. The usual.”

I take a moment to look at him, the mess of dark blond hair, the shadows under his eyes that the grin is working very hard to distract from, and I shake my head.

Yeah. We’re both liars.

Probably because neither of us has someone to call us out on it.

“I’m sorry I called you an asshole,” I say softly.

He frowns in confusion. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” I admit. “In my head.”

Nevan snorts, and a real smile breaks across his face. “Well, I definitely deserved it.”

He stands and brushes off his jeans before offering me his hand and pulling me to my feet.

“Your mom said I’ll die soon,” I admit when he lets go of my hand, half exhaling the words.

“Oh, yeah?” he says, cocking an eyebrow. “Well, if I got fifty cents for every time she told someone that, I could actually afford to fix the heater in Room 3.”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Maybe not, but statistically, you’re doing great. She told me I’d die young in my sleep at least a dozen times growing up. Said the cards showed darkness, tragedy, all that fun stuff. Now I’m almost twenty-seven and still waiting for my dramatic ending.”

He says it like a joke, but not all of him sounds convinced.

Despite everything, I huff out a relieved laugh.

“See?” He reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my cheek for a second. “You’ll be fine.”

The gentle touch makes my chest ache, but then he seems to realize what he’s done, surprise flickering in his eyes as he drops his hand to his side.

Yeah. He definitely didn’t mean to do that.

Nevan looks away, eyes distant as we stand there, and I take in the freckles across his nose, and the faint dimple that appears when his mouth shifts like he’s thinking something through.

He swallows.

And I can’t help but watch his throat work, and then he turns back, chin dipped. Our eyes lock before I can pretend I wasn’t staring. His are a soft gray, reminding me of early mornings before the world has committed to being awake yet, suspended light where everything is still possible and nothing has gone wrong yet.

I look away first.

“I know I fucked up yesterday. And I know I didn’t exactly make a great first impression with the whole… kicking you out of my kitchen thing.”

“It’s fine⁠—”

“It’s not,” he cuts in gently. “You were helping me, and I repaid you by being a complete dick about a necklace that isn’t even yours to feel weird about.” He runs a hand through his hair, and I catch more paint smudges on his knuckles. “I’m sorry. Really sorry.”

He called me out on my lie before I could even finish saying it.

“Apology accepted,” I say with a smile, letting go of my hurt pride.

His shoulders drop a fraction, relief visible in the way his whole body seems to exhale. “Good. Because I have a question, and I didn’t want to ask it while you still thought I was an asshole.”