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“From what I recall, I’m the one who brought you into my home, had you patched up, and gave you clothes to wear,” he counters. “I’m the only reason you even had the chance to meet that barman tonight, so keep it in your pants.”
“Well, first of all, there’s nothing coming out of my pants for Alexi, so how about you stop being a dick about it. Alexi happened to show me great hospitality and I’m grateful for that. And let’s not forget, you pointed a gun at me onlysecondsbefore helping me. Maybe you should’ve been a little nicer.”
“Nicer?” He scoffs, then folds his fingers on his lap. “Being nice is a weakness, and it gets you killed.”
“Well, like I said, Alexi is nice.”
“Please. He’s an arrogant brute.”
I laugh so hard I flop onto my back. “You can’t be serious,” I tell him, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye and sitting up again. “He’sthe arrogant brute? Have you looked in a mirror?”
He glares at me, waiting for me to stop laughing.
“You done now?” He pushes out of his chair, making his way to the closet and taking down several blankets and a pillow. He spreads one of the blankets out on the floor, places the pillow on top of it, and then lies on both.
“You should get some rest. We have a long way back to Blackwater in a couple hours.”
“You know you can take half the bed if you want. It’s a pretty big bed.” And it is. I’ve never seen a bed so large. It’s not a king, or even a California king. It’s wide—big enough to fit three burly men.
“I’m fine here.”
“Suit yourself.” I turn over in the bed, resting on my comfortable side and facing the window. The wind pushes the leaves of the tree against the glass, and I inhale before exhaling, wishing I could just go home already, though I am tired.
I feel the fatigue in my body, and I’m convinced that those verdeberries make you giggly, or give you some kind of high, because I’m feeling a bit loopy. Or maybe it was Manx’s elixir?
Shit.
I frown when I hear Caz’s voice echoing in my head.
Is that a fucking… Oh, fuck!
I glance over my shoulder as Caz springs off the floor to sit on the edge of the bed.
“What is going on with you?” I ask, confused.
He swallows hard, staring down at the floor. With a frown, I lean over to see what he’s looking at and notice something crawling near his pillow. It looks similar to the spider that was at Beatrix’s—like a baby tarantula.
“Wait a minute…” I stifle a laugh as Caz moves his feet farther away from the spider. “Are youafraidof spiders?”
“Fuck off,” he grumbles.
“Oh, wow. You are!Wow!” I stare at him, surprised by this new discovery. “And here I was thinking you’re this fearless man who can’t be bothered.”
I climb off the bed, picking up the empty teacup from my tray and wobbling toward the spider. It’s crawling onto his pillow now, and I see him shudder in the corner of my eye.
I can’t. This is hilarious and ridiculous. What kind of grown man is scared of spiders?
“I’m not scared of them,” Caz counters, and I forget he can hear me. “I just don’t like them.”
“I admit, these are some hairy little beasts…” I scoop the spider into the teacup. “But they’re not much to be afraid of. They’re not poisonous, are they?”
“Not that one. Plus, they’re disgusting to look at.”
I’m instantly reminded of all the spiders that’d come into me and Warren’s bedroom when we were young. We stayed in an apartment in Sugar Creek, a two-bedroom unit with walls as thin as paper, and our room hardly had space for a twin sized bed. Despite it being one of the worst places we ever lived, a lot of memories were created there.
There was this one corner in the room the spiders would always build a small web. I’d never been afraid of them, but Warren did warn me about poisonous ones, like the brown recluse.
“I think it’s kind of cute, actually.” I walk toward Caz with the teacup. “Would you like a closer look?”
