Chapter 23 Monroe
MONROE
“Everything okay?” Cherri asks as we head toward City Center a few days later. Flowers flank our path from either side, drifting off into other routes where fellow harbingers trek from their cottages. “You ran off pretty quick Friday night after drinking my rosé.”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Is it the mate stuff?” She stops and turns, taking my hands in hers. “I know it’s a bummer that we’ll be getting new roommates, but Roxy and Kendrick—”
“Wait, what?” I hadn’t thought about that. “New roommates? When?”
“Not sure. But once they do the claiming ceremony in a few months, they will move to an open home on the other side of the Fluffle until new Radixes are chosen. I know they both really want to raise a few sprouts.”
“I’m so happy for them.”
“Me too. Though I’m also really jealous. After you left, they started going on and on about how amazing it is to be able to sense each other’s emotions. Finally getting to open up about their feelings for each other without fear of not being mates.” She sighs dramatically. “I want that.”
“I hope you get it, Cherri. Truly.”
“You mean that?”
“Of course.” I shrug, hugging around myself while we continue our stroll. “Just because I don’t want it for myself doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with longing for someone to share your afterlife with.”
I’m sure there are plenty of lovely things about it for people who want to be here. Always having someone to come home to, to share your troubles with—
Hang on. Mates feel each other’s emotions through the bond?
Is that why I’ve had all these emotional outbursts lately?
I think back to the desire I felt last night staring up at the ceiling with my hand between my legs when I tried to relax enough to sleep. Briar is attractive and with this mark, it makes sense to be drawn to him. It was only natural that his face and…other features…came to mind. Wasn’t it?
But what if it had been more than that? What if he’d been the cause of that desire because he’d been with Radix Corrigan. What if as I’d been plunging my fingers into myself, he’d been plunging into her?
Acid rises up my throat. My nails dig into my thighs over my pencil skirt, discomfort swirling in my gut at the image of the two of them together.
Mine—
Nope. There will be none of that.
I wiggle my fingers and fidget with the buttons of my blouse. If she’s also his mate, that should keep him distracted. I’m not thrilled dealing with his emotions on top of everything else, but at least I know how to handle my own.
I slow my breaths, counting them out in my head. Everything’s going to be fine. I’m in control. Briar has no clue he’s my mate and he’s got Corrigan keeping him occupied.
“Mmm, quick fuel up before class?” Cherri’s staring at the robin’s-egg blue cart up ahead.
“Of course.”
Behind the glass, Tom hands a few customers crêpes and to-go cups with thin slips of steam wafting from the lids.
“Hey,” I say, flashing him my best smile when we reach the front of the line.
His focus stays glued on the batter he’s mixing up. “What would you like today?”
I glance at Cherri who mouths “the usual.”
“Two s’more crêpes. One with extra marshmallows.”
“Coming right up,” he replies, pouring the batter onto the circular griddle.
“How was the rest of your night?” I press up onto the balls of my feet. “I needed some fresh air, but when I got back, I didn’t see you anywhere.”
“Oh, yeah.” He barely glances at me before rifling through the fillings. “It was good. Sorry about that. My friends wanted to bounce, so I had to go.”
Seems odd considering I was standing outside and never saw him leave. Cherri and I shoot each other confused glances, but Tom keeps his attention strictly on the crêpes. “Here you go.”
He only meets my gaze as he hands me my order.
“Thanks.” I give him my best fuck-me eyes. “Maybe we can meet up again sometime?”
“Yeah…” His attention lingers on my lips, then he goes back to cleaning off the griddle. “Maybe. We’ll see.”
He waves up the next customers, and Cherri and I side-eye each other until we are out of earshot.
She glances back at the cart. “Well, that was weird.”
“Agreed.”
Tom looked like he wanted to devour me last night, and I’d have happily let him. Maybe he found someone else. Maybe I took too long being distracted by stupid Briar and his stupid Corrigan.
Cherri’s delicate hand grips my shoulder. “Monroe.”
“What?”
“What if Tom is your mate?” Her eyes are wide. “What if he’s avoiding you because he figured out you’re mates and realizes you’ve rejected him?”
“That’s a great point… Possibly.” It’s not fair to lie to her, but I can’t exactly tell her who my mate is. Cherri is far too excited by the prospect of a mate and apparently has a thing for professors. If she wants to believe Tom is my mate, it beats the alternative of her learning the truth.
Her face falls. For a second, I wonder if she can tell I’m not being honest with her.
“Does that mean we can’t get any more crêpes until your mate situation is figured out?” she asks, grimacing at the one clutched in her hand.
“Definitely not.” I bite into mine and continue talking through a delicious mouthful of flaky crêpe, smooth chocolate hazelnut, and gooey marshmallow. “These are too good to give up.”
“Truth.” She sniffs hers and takes a bite. “Though having a mate who makes you breakfast like this every day”—little flakes fall from her chin between mouthfuls—“doesn’t seem too bad.”
“You know what? You’re right.” I hold up my crêpe to her. “I should go back, let him bend me over that cart, and invite him to the claiming ceremony in a few months to make it official. Our breakfast needs are worth it.”
“Yes, they are.” She lifts her crêpe, cheersing mine before we continue demolishing them en route to the Conservatory.
I keep trying to push the image of Corrigan with her sharp claws gripping Briar’s shirt from my mind, but as I stare at the oleanders blossoming from my pot during Botany, it’s proving impossible.
Why do I even care? She can be as possessive of him as she’d like. Sir Thumps-A-Lot ruined my life. I don’t want him.
“Where did that come from?”
I pull my hand back from pruning an overly floppy leaf and turn to Cherri. “No clue. Wish I could figure it out so it would be more consistent.” I’m not sure why my magic has been more stable since last night, but I’m not complaining. “I even managed to dress myself today.”
“Color me impressed.” Cherri primps the white and purple hydrangeas in her planter. “Roxy will be thrilled she doesn’t have to scrounge up more curtains.”
Warmth creeps across my cheeks. “Thanks.”
“Well done, Monroe.” Professor Kitt bends down, inspecting the oleanders up close. His brows furrow, but a moment later, he runs over to Skylar, who’s tangled up in an overgrowth of vines. It’s validating not being the one struggling for once.
A few hours later, Tess lectures us about how spring is different throughout the mortal world, pointing to various regions where we can be sent, depending on the time of year.
When she gets to the East Coast and I spot DC on the map, hope roots between my ribs.
My bare feet dig into the ground. There’s only a few more months until we go into rejuvenation before spring.
If I make the cut, that is.
“Now, if Phil sees his shadow, we will be scrambling for the northern hemisphere. But we’ve made a deal with the Frosts to let winter linger longer this year.”
“Phil… As in Punxsutawney Phil?” I lean over and ask Cherri.
“The very same.” She lowers her voice. “Groundhog shifter.”
She shakes her head like it’s the silliest thing in the world. Seems a bit judgmental considering we shift into fluffy bunnies—or we should be able to.
I haven’t yet.
While Briar hasn’t made a big deal about me never demonstrating in front of the class, I’m sure it has more to do with his guilt over his role in my death.
The guilt card may work with getting him to speak to Fate on my behalf or getting out of being called on, but if I can’t demonstrate proficiency in shifting, there’s no way I’ll be getting home come spring.
“You okay?” Cherri asks.
“Yeah. Why?”
Her eyes drop to my empty desk. It takes me a moment to register that it’s not the desk itself but what’s under it that she’s nodding toward. Between my feet, shoots of foxgloves are bunched together, growing up from the soil.
Shit, shit, shit.
Fortunately, she’s the only one who’s noticed. The room is cast in shade while Professor Tess finishes up the lesson. Once she dismisses us, I crouch beneath my desk and tug each one out by the root. The last thing I need is for Briar to see them and somehow piece together that I’m his mate.
His.
Part of me craves a sense of belonging, but it’s obviously the bond, harbinger instincts playing tricks on me. It’s not logical. It’s Fate’s magic, forcing these feelings on me. I don’t actually want to belong to him or anyone else. I want to go back home.
I also hate that I can’t help but stare the moment he walks into the classroom—glistening raindrops and inky tattoos cascading down his arms.
Cherri leans over. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing,” I reply, brushing off the unconvinced and slightly betrayed look she casts me.
I shouldn’t push her away, but the more folks who know my secret, the less control I can maintain over the situation.
Right now, nothing matters aside from getting back to my world.
But I hate the slump to her shoulders as she turns toward the front of the room.
Leaning over, I place a gentle hand on her back. “I’ll tell you later.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
Professor Briar hangs up his jacket and then drags a chair over from the corner, setting it in the center of the room. My heel taps nervously against the ground. The last thing I need is more foxgloves springing up beneath my desk.