Page 121 of Something Handsome This Way Comes

Near the fountain, several enormous wooden barrels had been filled for apple bobbing.

And beyond that⁠—

Milo narrowed his eyes toward a field behind the town hall.

“Is that a maze… made of corn?” Grievance asked.

“You betcha.”

Milo watched a woman emerge from between the stalks, looking furious.

“There is a skeleton in there giving wrong directions! I was stuck in there for hours!”

Somewhere inside the maze, something giggled. Milo rolled his eyes.

“They can’t come up with something more original? Jinxed skeletons giving wrong directions is exactly what they did last year.”

Grievance shrugged. “Seems entertaining.”

“You say that because you can smell your way out. Which is also called cheating.”

“It is problem-solving.”

Milo was about to argue when the smell hit him. Apples. Cinnamon. Cloves. Warm caramel.

Parked beside the fountain was an enormous copper wagon with THE HOT CIDER CAULDRON painted across its side in curling orange letters. Steam billowed from a chimney on top while a gigantic enchanted apple rolled back and forth across the roof.

The line wrapped halfway around the square.

“Oh, I need me some of that,” Milo said, working away some of the ache in his neck. Grievance caught the moment and frowned. “Because it’s festive and delicious,” Milo insisted.

No other reason. And definitely not because I have some Soothewort powder I plan to put in my cider to help with the inflammation in my back.

They joined the queue and stood in silence. Grievance had been quiet all morning. Brooding in that way, he insisted, was completely different from pouting, but Milo knew better.

Every few minutes, Grievance’s eyes wandered toward him. Toward his neck. His wrists. Any visible evidence of the previous night. And every time, his expression tightened.

Milo slid his cold hand into Grievance’s and squeezed. His mate squeezed back.

But the sadness remained.

Fine. If words aren’t sinking in, I’ll try something else.

“Stay here.”

Grievance frowned. “Why?”

“I need to check something.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Milo pointed toward the cider wagon. “You are currently twenty minutes away from obtaining apple cider that I desperately need right now. Do not abandon your post,” Milo said with mock authority.

“Milo—”

“I’ll be right back!” he waved, and before his overly protective mate could object, Milo disappeared into the crowd.

He knew exactly where he was going.