Page 14 of Bad Witch

Even if I was more experienced with social interactions, I doubted I could read the expression on his face and know how to reply.

“I’m fine, Tempest,” he said. “Never better.”

The tone of his voice was weird as well, and I still had no idea what he was doing here. “That’s good,” I said. “Can I help you with something? Are you here to see someone? Do you have questions for me, about our session yesterday?”

“Just passing,” he said.

“Oh…well, it’s nice to see you again.” I beamed at him because he seemed to need it. Usually, when I smiled, he did as well. Not this time. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

His gaze slid to the clinic behind me, and the muscle in his jaw jumped before he looked back down at me. “Yeah, Temp.”

He didn’t sound okay. I turned and saw Mags standing there. She looked very serious, though she smiled and waved as well when she saw me. I waved back and turned to Fender again.

“Are you okay?” he asked before I could say more.

I blinked up at him. I wasn’t sure when the last time anyone had asked me that, well, except for the horrible situation with Raiden here at the clinic. Mags had taken me aside and asked if I was okay then. But just randomly like this? Never. I assumed my smile did the talking for me, but obviously not. “Um…yes, I’m definitely okay.”

His nostrils flared, scenting the air again. “You’re afraid.”

He could sense it, of course he could. Crap. “It’s nothing personal,” I said, because it wasn’t. All males scared me to differing degrees.

“I’d never hurt you, Tempest,” he said. “Ever.”

“Like I said, it’s not you, it’s me. But I, ah…appreciate you saying so,” I said stupidly. What else could I say? This whole interaction was highly confusing. He kind of hunched a little. I’d never seen him stand like that before. “Are you in pain?”

“No more than usual,” he said, then looked toward the clinic, then back at me. “I just…I want you to know that if you need any help, with anything, Temp, that I’m here, yeah? Whatever it is, I’m here.”

I blinked up at him. That was an unusual thing to say. It just confused me more. “Oh…um, thank you.” Did I appear to be someone who needed help? I was trying so hard to fit in. My heart sank. I’d obviously been failing at pretending I knew how to do this, how to be around other people. Apparently you couldn’t learn social skills from watching TV and the internet. “Why are you asking me that?” I did my best to keep a smile on my face and hoped he didn’t see the way my cheeks were heating.

“No reason, like I said, I was passing and saw you.” His head tilted to the side. “You look a little tired is all⁠—”

“Do I?” My hands went to my face.

“You not get enough sleep last night, Temp? Something on your mind?”

“No, I slept very well.”

That seemed to annoy him.

“Well, I guess I am a little tired,” I said quickly, not wanting him to be annoyed with me. I was used to keeping things to myself, and he’d caught me off guard. “I had a restless night. I’m recovering from a…a stomach upset…” I inwardly cringed. Awesome, now he was probably envisioning me draped over the toilet bowl, or worse, sitting on it. My face flushed hotter.

“You’re sick?”

I squirmed. “I’m almost completely recovered.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“Hey, Temp, Jemma’s shift just ended. She wants to do handover,” Mags called.

I gave his arm a gentle squeeze, still feeling out of my depth and befuddled. “I need to get going. Thank you, though…for stopping by.” I hoped I didn’t sound as confused as I felt.

He said nothing, his gaze moving over my face as if looking for something, or maybe he saw something? I rushed off, not sure what to make of our encounter. Fender seemed different. I had the unsettling feeling that I’d just been given a test and had failed miserably. I shoved those thoughts aside as I walked into the clinic.

All day, I thought about Fender waiting for me in the parking lot, the strange look on his face, and the offer of help should I need it. None of it made sense. I didn’t like feeling confused. When I didn’t know something, I couldn’t stop until I worked it out. Unless—was he annoyed that I hadn’t delivered the pies I promised to make him? I hadn’t made them last night because my Matilda business with Mr. Richards had run longer than I’d expected. What I’d done didn’t happen often. Matilda only came when she was called, which meant there were families that never received the help or justice they deserved, but if we were confronted with a situation like the one Sheena was in, where children were at risk, and there was no one capable of making the call themselves, we did it for them.

Mr. Richards wouldn’t be hurting anyone ever again.

I sighed. I hated not knowing what that look on Fender’s face meant.