Page 17 of Bad Witch

He was being kind. Fender was a kind male. I’d gotten things wrong before and assumed people liked me. This felt real, but what did I know? Mags had told me about movie night here as well, and I realized I really wanted to stay, but what if he was just being kind? “The bus…I should probably go⁠—”

“I can take you home later, if you do want to stay and hang out?”

I chewed my lip. “Do you want me to stay?”

Fender’s gaze was soft yet intense as he looked down at me. “Yeah, Temp, I do.”

His hands were still loosely around me. It really did feel nice. He said we needed to be clear with each other, and I couldn’t bear any more confusion or having to try to guess. “So we’re friends? You want to be friends with me?”

His lips curled up. “Yeah, babe, I wanna be friends.”

My belly warmed and happiness filled me. “Okay, then, yes, I’d like to stay for movie night.”

His smile widened. “Excellent.” He picked up the pie carrier. “But let’s go put these pies in my room first.”

“We could share them⁠—”

“Nope. These are mine. Not sharing the pies you made me with anyone.”

I blinked over at him as we walked. “You’re going to eat all of them?”

“I’m a big male.”

Yes, he was. A very big male.

Brick was heading our way. He winked. “Can’t wait for my pie, Temp.”

“She’s not making you a pie,” Fender said without stopping.

“Oh, I said I would. Actually, do you have a piece of paper and a pen. Your brothers all made requests when I arrived and I⁠—”

“Nah, Temp. You’re not making them anything. You only make pies for me.”

I glanced over at him. “You don’t want me to make pies for your brothers?”

“No.”

“But I said I would.”

“And I’ll make sure they know it’s not happening,” he said, and his voice had gone deeper.

“But—”

“No one’s gonna be pissed at you. I’ll sort it.”

Relief filled me. “Thank you.”

He was frowning again. “You can just say no,” he said. “Anything you don’t want to do. You just have to say no.”

“Right, I just thought I should⁠—”

“You say no, Tempest. Anything, anything at all you don’t want to do, you fucking say no, understand?”

Somehow, he’d said that with intensity, but there was no heat to it, not even with the cursing. I nodded, something swirling inside me. Of course, I could say no, but I’d always struggled with it. As a kid in the house I was raised in for the first eleven years of my life, no had meant nothing. You didn’t get to say no. You did what you were told or you paid for it. Matilda W had understood me, cared for me, saved me. She’d never given me a reason to want to say no. I hadn’t realized it until this moment that this was an issue for me. “I will,” I said.

His gaze studied me. “Good.” Then he reached out his free hand and took mine, leading me to his room.

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