Chapter 13 #2
“I put a lot of thought into my message,” Miles said as he held my hands to his chest. “Why are you upset?”
“I don’t even know what it was supposed to mean!” I twisted, trying to break free. “And then everyone kept telling me that you go off alone—”
“Of course,” he interrupted, rubbing his thumb over my knuckles. “Travelling is a part of my responsibilities.” His brown eyes held mine earnestly, free of shame or remorse.
Clearly, to him, this made complete sense.
“Besides,” he continued. “Samhain is soon, and I need to graduate. This is the best season for the ceremony. I refuse to postpone it for another year.”
And that was perfectly okay! I, too, understood the value of continuing education and bettering oneself. But why did he have to be so frustrating?
He could have just explained this clearly from the beginning. “Why didn’t you just say that ?”
“I did say that!” Miles’s lips pressed together. “It was right there in my note.”
“You said you ‘left to be a better man.’”
He nodded. “That’s what that means.”
My fingers were twitching with the need to strangle him. “That is not what that means!” I growled. My heart began racing again, and my cheeks grew hot. He wasn’t even sorry. “Besides, what kind of graduation project requires you to run around in the woods all by yourself!?”
This project had better be some life-changing magical experience that would serve a higher purpose. Otherwise, I would—
“I’m looking for an artifact from Bigfoot for my spell.” Miles grinned, his expression lightening as genuine excitement lit his eyes. “I really think I’ve got him this time.”
“ What ?” Red flashed through my vision, and when the haze cleared, Miles was holding his face as he stared at me. Meanwhile, I was in the air, being restrained against Titus’s tight chest.
“Even though I’m enjoying this more than I ever dreamed possible,” Titus said, “I can’t let you kill Miles.”
Can’t, or shouldn’t?
“I’m not going to kill him!” I twisted in Titus’s grip, but he was too strong. “I just need to teach him a lesson!”
“You slapped me!” Miles sounded shocked as he cradled his cheek.
“Did it hurt?” Titus asked, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.
“No. Not really.” The witch frowned at Titus, and my skin bristled. “You could barely feel it. But why—”
“Outside of the fact that Bigfoot doesn’t exist ,” I hissed through my clenched teeth. Miles gasped, pressing his hands to his heart at my statement, but I continued, “you can’t just leave me behind with only a note!”
“She’s so much more violent!” Miles’s voice shook. “What in the world happened?”
“She’s always been this way,” Titus replied. “It’s not my fault some of you are in denial.”
Miles glared at Titus. He narrowed his eyes. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know that she’s likely plotting a million ways to dispose of her enemies—”
I gasped, but they ignored me.
“—but I don’t care about that.” Miles frowned. “I want to know why she’s upset! This has nothing to do with me. What the hell happened?”
“Damen’s starting ‘therapy,’ ” Titus responded.
Miles groaned, rubbing his hands over his face.
“Don’t act like I have no reason to be mad at you.” I squirmed in Titus’s hold, freeing one arm enough to point at him. “How could you just leave me after everything that happened?” I asked, pushing away from Titus again, and he let me go this time.
Miles held his arms up, and the forward momentum of breaking from Titus caused me to fall into his embrace.
The fight drained from me the instant his arms wrapped around my shoulders. All my anger—at his dramatic letter, at him chasing mythical creatures, at him leaving without really saying goodbye—had been masking something deeper, something that made my chest ache.
He’d abandoned me.
I pressed my face into his chest. It was selfish of me to feel this way. This wasn’t about me at all. He had his own life to live—his own goals to achieve. And I knew, logically, I couldn’t expect everyone to put their lives on hold for me.
“Mon rêve.” Miles sounded uncertain. “What—”
“Please don’t do that again," I whispered against his shirt, my fingers curling into the fabric. Maybe if I held him, I could somehow prevent him from disappearing again. His heart raced beneath my cheek, slowly calming my frayed nerves.
He was here. He was back. And I was so, so tired.
These boys were going to be the death of me.
“O-okay?” Miles sounded bewildered, but his arms tightened around me. “If that’s what you need.”
It was what I needed, at least for now. But I noticed he still never said he was sorry.
Damen did not seem overly excited at Miles’s safe return.
“There you are,” he’d said, lowering a copper travel pot. “About time. Julian needs food.”
Miles glanced at the necromancer.
Julian didn’t seem enthused to see him either. He briefly met Miles’s eyes and, with an expression smooth as glass, muttered out a welcome. I might have missed it if I hadn’t been paying attention.
I bit my lip, glancing between the two of them. I’d never noticed any conflict between them before.
I wanted everyone to be happy.
Titus—who’d returned to his dragon form during the walk back—shifted back into a human and, before slipping off in the direction of his clothes, touched my shoulder and told me, “That’s between them. Let them figure it out.”
I blinked at him. Damen had said my thoughts were written on my face, but I had no idea it was that obvious.
“What are you up to?” Miles stomped past me and snatched the bag and pot from Damen. His voice was too low to capture, but I could see his face easily enough. “I told you it was too soon!”
“What?” Damen asked, lowering his arms.
“She’s angry!” Miles waved a hand in my direction. “And it’s all your fault!”
Damen narrowed his eyes. “You’re the one who ran off.”
“Don’t make this about me,” Miles rebutted. “Pushing too fast isn’t going to help.”
“But what you did wasn’t helping either,” Damen pointed out. He glanced at me, and by now, he knew I could read his lips, but he didn’t make any move to hide his words. “Leaving without proper explanation.”
“I left a note,” Miles protested, though not as confidently as before. “I didn’t realize…”
His words trailed off as he finally registered what he was holding. He stared between the pot in his hands and Damen with growing suspicion. “Wait, what exactly were you planning to make with this?"
“Ramen,” Damen replied, allowing for this change of subject.
We had ramen?
“It has everything you need,” Damen continued. “Noodles, the flavor packet… It’s easy enough.”
“No!” Miles replied and shrugged off his backpack. “You three are seriously the worst at camping.”
I nodded—they really were.
“Just get some water,” he commanded, pulling cloth-wrapped bundles from his bag.
Damen hovered over the witch’s shoulder instead of obeying. “What do you have?”
“Do what I said.” Miles pushed Damen away. “I told you, you have no kitchen privileges yet. Julian, why were you sitting there? You should have stopped him.”
Julian shrugged. “It was amusing.”
“We’re not in the kitchen.” Damen stepped back with a frown, but still, he grabbed a canteen and stalked off toward the water. “We’re in the middle of the woods.”
“It still counts,” Miles called after him.
“What do you have?” I asked, sitting on my knees beside the witch. I pulled at one of the bundles. “What’s in here?”
“Jerky,” Miles answered, and my heart sank.
I wrinkled my nose. The last thing I wanted was more dried meat.
“I can see that Titus has been feeding you from his stash.” Miles sighed. He pulled out a knife and began to cut into an onion. A pot was already over the fire, with a second ready beside it. “Don’t worry,” Miles continued. “I have the good stuff. There’s also herbs, potatoes, and some food bars.”
Despite making fun of the ramen, Miles had stolen from the stash and had four packets of flavored noodles beside his knee. Since he’d asked Damen to get water, he obviously planned to use them. “What are you making?”
“One of my originals, I call it Trailside Noodle Pot.” He dropped the sliced onion and mushrooms into the pot.
“You made it up just now,” Titus said, and Miles shrugged.
Damen returned with the water, dropped the canister into Miles’s hands, and sat on a flat stone near the fire. He seemed mesmerized, watching Miles’s movements as he completed the most rudimentary tasks, such as pouring water over onions.
While Miles worked in silence, and Julian and Titus sat in relaxed, yet fragile, peace, Damen appeared perplexed.
“Can’t you cook?” I asked him, noting how his gray eyes seemed to follow Miles’s every movement.
Damen jumped, his elbow slipping off his knee, as his face turned red. “Yes.” His voice was curt, and he could not hold my gaze. “What would make you think I can’t?”
“He can’t,” Julian said. “He’s horrendously bad at it.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” I argued. “If you can taste food, you can cook.”
“That’s not how it goes,” Miles interrupted. “But that doesn’t affect you. You’ve always been a good cook.”
“Thanks!” My face heated despite myself. How wonderful it was for someone to have such blind faith in my culinary abilities. “Finn likes my cooking.”
“You cooked for Finn?”
I’d expected the statement—and the look of horror—from Julian. However, it was Damen who was now staring at me, mouth opened, and Damen who was unsuccessfully fighting against the growing redness moving across his neck.
“Yes…” I inched closer to Miles—the only one at peace at my admission.
“That was very nice of you,” Miles said, inching over. There was space next to him now, and he gestured to me. “Fae don’t generally cook for people outside their closest friends and family. Do you want to come help?”
“Okay…” Anything to distract from the suddenly tense atmosphere. “What can I do?”
He pressed the wooden spoon into my hand and instructed me to stir the soupy contents as he poured the flavor packets into the water. Surprisingly, he then added two other ingredients.