Page 19 of Darling

Nibs raised an eyebrow and gestured quickly.

“Fuck you both. It’s always ‘Curly this’ and ‘Curly that.’ For once this isn’t my fault. I’m fuckin’ done.” Curly stomped out of the kitchen and down the hall.

Slightly and Nibs turned to look at Wendy, who wisely didn’t try to say a word, before continuing their argument.

“I know she’s one of them, not one of us, but if Peter just said to bring her over, he didn’t really specify that she was our prisoner…,” Slightly said.

Nibs shrugged one shoulder and snapped his left hand, saying something so low and quiet that Wendy couldn’t hear him.

Slightly sighed loudly. “It doesn’t make sense, but you can’t make those kinds of decisions without Peter’s permission. Yes, we can’t trust her, and yes, it’s better to be safe than sorry, but none of us ever know what Peter wants unless he tells us. You’re still on thin ice from the incident with the peaches. I just … Nibs, you’ve got to be more careful with—”

The front door of the apartment slammed open and Peter and Tinkerbelle walked in. Nibs and Slightly flinched. Slightly backed away toward the wall. But Nibs stood firm and held Peter’s gaze defiantly.

Peter took in the scene with a tight look on his face. He surveyed the group of boys holding Wendy down, and Wendy herself with the T-shirt still stuck in her mouth, sitting very still in a veritable throne of limbs. He glanced at Slightly, who held up his hands defensively, as if to say, It wasn’t me. His eyes tracked from the ladle in Slightly’s right hand to the pot of still-steaming soup on the stovetop. Then his gaze landed firmly on Nibs.

Tinkerbelle opened her mouth to say something, but Curly pushed in from behind her and blurted, “I didn’t do it.”

“I know you didn’t, Curly,” Peter said, still staring at Nibs. “It’s not your style.”

Nibs’s face was blazing red, but he stood stock-still, not bowing beneath the ferocity of Peter’s stare. Tinkerbelle reached out a hand and put it on Nibs’s arm.

Nibs kept his eyes on Peter but nodded over at Tinkerbelle.

“That wasn’t your call to make,” Peter said. “She is our guest. Untie her.”

The younger boys jumped to follow Peter’s order. Peter turned to Wendy and knelt at her feet.

“I am so, so sorry,” Peter said quietly. “This was never meant to happen. When I got off the train, I texted Curly to meet you and take you to our house, but I was hoping he’d bring you by and introduce you to everyone, not take you hostage and scare the shit out of you.”

The boys removed the T-shirt in her mouth last.

The instant Wendy’s mouth was free, she began shouting. “Get off me, GET OFF ME!” She wrenched her arms out of the boys’ grip and jumped up from the chair.

“Hey, hey,” Peter said gently.

Wendy lurched forward to leave, but Peter caught her in his arms and held her fast. She hadn’t been going for a hug at all, but she could see how he would have thought she was; in her panic, she hadn’t even gotten to fully turn toward the door. Now that Peter had her in his arms, he held her close and rocked her back and forth. He murmured into her hair, cupping the back of her head tenderly, saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry” over and over again until Wendy’s panic subsided. She could feel tears spring to her eyes. The other boys watched in silence. Wendy gazed at everyone over Peter’s shoulder. Slightly dropped his hands and moved swiftly over to the overboiling pot to stir it. Tinkerbelle watched Peter hold Wendy for a moment contemplatively—not at all like she had when they’d come down the side of Wendy’s house—then she turned and went deeper into the apartment. Curly looked incredibly sheepish and kept glancing over at Nibs. Nibs refused to look at Wendy, continuing to stare at the back of Peter’s head angrily.

Peter didn’t focus on any of that, opting instead to take the time to console Wendy. He gently rubbed her back, rocking them both side to side until she stopped shaking, and relaxed enough to bury her face into the curve of his neck.

“I’m sorry I failed you,” he continued. “I’m sorry I left you. I’m sorry you were alone. I’m sorry you were lost. I’m sorry you were taken. I’m sorry they treated you roughly. I’m sorry, Darling, I’m so, so sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” one of the littlest boys echoed. Wendy pulled her head off Peter’s shoulder to glance at who had spoken. He couldn’t have been older than seven, looking earnest and on the verge of frightened tears.

“It’s okay,” Wendy heard herself saying, even though it wasn’t. “It was just a misunderstanding.”

Peter’s grip gentled, and he stepped back to hold her hands in his. “This is quite possibly the worst way that I wanted you to meet my family, but would you please give this another try? It wasn’t what I intended at all, and I still have friends who would love to meet you. I texted a bunch of people that you were coming to the party, and they’re waiting for us…”

Wendy looked back and forth between Peter and the boys, then thought about her phone in her pocket. As long as she had it, she could find a charger. She still had control of the situation. She took a deep breath. Then she nodded and squeezed Peter’s hands. “I forgive you,” she said firmly.

Peter’s shoulders immediately relaxed. He sighed in relief, then grinned wide and sweet. “Let’s start again!” he said brightly. “This is my home, and this is my family.”

He brushed a hand through his rakish brown curls and sauntered over to Slightly, clapping a hand heavily on the boy’s shoulder. “This is Slightly. The one by the doorway is Curly, and the one responsible for the circumstances of your capture is Nibs.”

“Hi,” Curly said in an anxious, high voice.

Slightly nodded at her. “Nice to meet you.” He returned his attention to the boiling pot.

Nibs waved sharply and went back to folding his arms.