Chapter 7
seven
By the time we get home, Cillian’s asked me what’s wrong a dozen times.
That only makes me feel worse, because I happen to be excellent at hiding my feelings, so how can this man—fae—who’s only known me for a couple of weeks possibly be able to see that something is wrong when the people who know me best have never been able to?
I brush him off repeatedly, but judging by his glower and the determined way he closes the front door of the cottage, I’m pretty sure he’s about to turn the questions into demands.
Too fucking bad. It’s bad enough that he’s going to be gone soon, leaving me with a new hole in my life to replace the ones his presence filled.
I don’t need to flay myself bare before then, and I definitely don’t need to embarrass myself by admitting to having feelings when he’s here on sufferance.
It’s bad enough that I summoned him away from his life without forcing my emotional needs on him as well.
“Lachie,” he starts, but I’m already rummaging in the fridge.
“I thought we might have salad for dinner, since it’s a hot day,” I call, staring at the half head of very wilted lettuce in the crisper. I don’t know what possessed me to say that, since said lettuce looks very unappetizing.
“Fine. But—”
“Or maybe we could chuck something on the barbecue. There should be some chops in the freezer.”
“I don’t care. Lachie—”
“Nah, we’d need a salad to go with that anyway, so it’d just be more work. I reckon—”
The fridge door is wrenched out of my hold and slammed closed, then I’m yanked around with a very firm grip on my shoulders to look at an irritated faerie.
“I don’t care about dinner,” he says forcefully. “I want you to tell me what’s wrong.”
Damn him.
“Nothing. I’ve already told you, I’m fi—”
“Do not say that word, Lachlan. Don’t lie to me again.”
I want to say it anyway, because I’m contrary that way, but his gaze locks with mine, and I… can’t. I can’t lie to him.
He’s ruined me.
I turn my head to stare out the window and swallow hard. “I’ll be okay,” I say instead. “I’m just… having a bad day.”
“Because of Godfrey?” He lets go of me and turns to head for the door. “I knew I was too nice to him.”
I gape after him. Is he…
“Where are you going?”
He doesn’t look back as he reaches for the door handle. “To find Godfrey and teach him to respect you.”
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
“Because of you, you stupid fae!” I shriek, no longer able to push down the tempest of emotions.
“This has nothing to do with Godfrey, except that because of you he told me I’m his family and he’s going to give me his shop!
It’s your fault! You came into my life that I thought was miserable and showed me all the reasons I actually love it and then you made it better!
How fucking dare—” My voice cracks, and then I’m crying. Damn it.
Through my ugly sobs and the film of tears, I see Cillian staring at me, his face stricken. Then he’s beside me.
“I’m sorry,” he says, hovering without touching me, even though I really want a hug right now. “I didn’t mean to make you sad.”
My laugh comes unbidden, choked with tears and bitterness. “What did you mean, then?” I swipe my hand across my face and sniffle.
A big, ridiculously gentle hand cups my chin and tilts my head up so I have to look at him. “I want you to be happy. I want you to see how much the people in your life love you, that you’re not alone—not unless you choose to be.”
I open my mouth to argue, but it dies in my throat.
He’s right. Aunt Maggie might not be here this Christmas, but before she booked her cruise, she invited me to go with her—and when I said no, she asked what my plans would be.
Godfrey might be going on his buying trip, but if I’d invited him to spend Christmas with me, he would have delayed leaving.
If I’d told anyone else in town that I didn’t have plans for Christmas, I would have had a dozen invitations before I even finished the sentence.
But I’ve been so caught up in the idea that not having a boyfriend means I’m lonely, it became a self-fulfilled prophecy.
Sure, friends and neighbours aren’t the same thing as a romantic life partner, but they’re something.
They’re people I can spend time with, instead of wallowing on my own.
I’ve made myself lonely.
Sucking in a deep breath, I step back from Cillian. “You’re right. I know that. And yeah, I’ve got people who care about me and a pretty good life here. You’ve helped me to understand that.”
His gaze searches my face. “Your words don’t match what you’re feeling.”
I shrug and decide I’ve got no pride left. This conversation isn’t going to end until he knows why I’m upset, and I just want it to be over. “Can I have my book back?”
That’s not what I planned to say, and judging by the way he blinks, it’s not what he expected.
“I’m not finished with it.”
I snort. “Oh, please. You’re not really reading it.”
“No,” he agrees, surprising me, but he doesn’t explain further, and I flounder for something to say.
“I don’t know how you were supposed to get to know me by reading it, anyway. It’s a fucking fantasy novel, and I’m nothing like any of the characters.”
“I wouldn’t know, since I haven’t been reading it. That’s…” He sighs. “I should have explained this when you told me you didn’t understand the summoning spell.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Oh?”
“I don’t need to read the book,” he says. “The reason the spell needs an object you value is because people imbue a lot of their own energy into the things they love. The book… it radiates all the emotions you felt when you read it, and that energy tells me everything I need to know about you.”
My mouth is hanging open. He’s been…
Wow.
“Oh.”
He moves back toward me, closing the distance between us until he’s almost within arm’s reach.
Almost. But not.
“Are you truly distressed about the book?”
I’m so busy obsessing about how our physical distance right now could double as a metaphor for how I feel emotionally that it takes me a second to register what he’s asking.
“What book? Oh. Uh… no. I was just… curious.”
He takes a step closer, and even though we’re still not touching—nowhere near—having him close enough that I could touch him makes me almost giddy with relief. I’m so down bad for him.
“Please tell me what’s bothering you. Is it… me? Do you wish you hadn’t summoned me?”
The question is so ridiculous that I would have pissed myself laughing, if not for the naked vulnerability on Cillian’s bearded face. I forced him to come and hang out with me this month without him getting any say in it, so the least I can do is not laugh at him.
“Never,” I declare. Something in his gaze compels me to add, “I know it’s not fair to you, but having you here has been the most amazing gift.”
He frowns. “I don’t understand. How is it not fair to me?”
“I summoned you,” I remind him. “You didn’t get a choice about being here.”
His lips part, and he stares at me for long seconds, his expression so utterly stunned that I wonder if we have some kind of language barrier after all.
“Lachie,” he says finally, “what exactly do you think that spell is for?”
“Companionship,” I reply promptly. “I wanted company for Christmas, and now you’re here until then.”
Cillian closes his eyes and sighs. When he opens them again, there’s a rueful kind of resignation there. “I knew you didn’t understand the spell, but I didn’t realise it was this bad.”
“Huh?”
“This particular summoning spell is voluntary, Lachie. I cast it myself a long time ago, and I’ve been waiting for someone with matching energy to cast it too.
It’s not a spell for company, but for companionship.
” My face must be reflecting the blank ignorance I feel, because he adds, “Partnership. Love.”
His meaning hits me like a freight train. “Wait, I cast a spell that’s the magical equivalent of Bumble?” Oh my god oh my god oh my god… does this mean he’s into me too?
“Bumble?”
I shake my head, not ready to explain dating apps to him. Then I realise something else. “But what’s the point of that if you have to leave after a few weeks? Is it just, like… for hookups?” Or did he get here, take one look at me, and decide he wasn’t going to hang around.
Cillian swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “You wanted me to go back,” he reminds me. “It was one of the first things you said after you believed that you summoned me. I… lied.”
“What?” The word is barely a breath.
He looks away. “I wanted time to know you, even though you clearly weren’t interested in knowing me. So I lied and said I couldn’t go back, but I didn’t want you to just walk away. I thought if I put a time limit on it, you’d… let me stay with you.” He shrugs. “It worked.”
Holy motherfucker. We’re both such colossal idiots. “So… you don’t have to leave after Christmas?”
Cillian presses his lips together, then shakes his head. “Not unless you— Ooof!”
My mouth on his prevents him from saying anything else for a very long time.