30. Peter
30
Peter
I t hadn’t even been a question, that Everett would stay.
When had that happened?
Sure, he’d said it. Yeah, we’d picked up his things. But when his bosses showed up to try and drag him back to the city, I hadn’t worried for a second that Everett Bailey— my Everett Bailey—was going to leave me behind.
It’d been the worst thing that ever happened to me, and I wasn’t scared anymore.
Sure, some people might’ve said the worst thing was getting taken from my family, but I didn’t remember that, and I had a family I loved anyway. But losing Everett? That’d been real loss—the first I’d ever really understood.
And now, he was mine, and I wasn’t scared that he was going to leave or drift away. I wasn’t scared that I wasn’t important, because every single thing he did in some way supported me, and I didn’t want anything more than to return that care.
From the tall, dense trees along the property line, a woman came out. “Everything okay?”
I looked over.
“Just fine,” Jerry called out. “Couple of asshole out-of-towners. Nothing to worry about.”
“Oh, good. Glad they’re gone.” When she got close, she crinkled her nose at the retreating headlights of Everett’s boss’s absurd car.
I could understand why the man was so upset, losing Everett. Well, okay, I wasn’t a complete fool. The man was more upset about losing Everett’s work than he was at losing Everett, but that was because he was the fool.
You didn’t get the kind of magic Everett spun out from someone who felt ill-used and disrespected. I wanted—no, I needed —Everett to be able to make his art, but only for someone who knew the value of what they were given.
Heck, Everett could start drawing on our walls in permanent marker if he wanted, so long as he didn’t lose the love of the thing.
Actually, that’d probably look pretty cool.
I spent a few seconds too long watching him, making sure that he was really okay, but even then, I didn’t expect him to fall apart. I just wanted to be there for him if it was hard.
And then, well, I got distracted.
A warm, rich, spicy scent carried through the air, and I turned to look at the woman who’d approached for the first time.
She was a young Black woman with dark brown eyes, and at once, I recognized her.
Every time, it got easier and easier, but with her, well...she’d been one of the first—the first lost children after me.
“Lydia?” She had her hair done in pretty braids that hung all around her shoulders. She looked different now, but her eyes were still bright, her smile still one of the prettiest I’d ever seen.
“Hey, Peter.” She had that soft way of saying my name, like we were uncovering something secret between the two of us that no one else knew. But Everett did, and Jerry.
I grinned, nodding toward the plate in her hand. “That smells good.”
“Cheese and onion pies,” she said, holding them up. The crust was golden brown and flakey, and I bit my lip as my mouth watered. “They’re for you.”
My breath escaped me, all the tension that’d come over me as I tried to hold back rushing away all at once. “May I?”
She nodded, lifting the plate a little higher, and I took one of the small pies, humming happily at the first bite, nodding and smiling, mouth too full to tell her how freaking awesome it was.
She laughed, seeming to get my meaning anyway. “I don’t really like sweets. One too many honey cakes, I guess. But we wanted to bring something over and welcome you—welcome you both—back to the neighborhood.
Jerry put his arm around Lydia’s shoulders. “My lady’s an amazing cook. She’s got a magic touch with that oven.”
That brought me up short. I blinked at her. “Really?”
Her skin darkened, barely perceptible, but definitely there. “Maybe.”
“Cool.” I grinned, thrilling at the idea that maybe it wasn’t just me and Ezra out here with some kind of freaky forest magic.
Or maybe it was, and that was fine too, because Everett liked me either way.
“We’ll let you head in and put your groceries away, but we’d love to have you guys over for dinner if you’re up for it.”
“Definitely,” Everett said. “Thanks for, you know, looking out.”
He shook Jerry’s hand, and it struck me as a very serious kind of gesture, but then they patted each other’s shoulders and we went inside.
Afterward, as he put some groceries in the fridge, he caught me watching him. “What?”
I couldn’t help it—watching him. He was amazing, but in that moment, it was more than that. I didn’t just trust that he’d be there with me, I’d seen it. Everywhere we turned, we found another little piece of the life we were building together, and I was so excited for more.
I bit my lip, coming around the kitchen table and shutting the fridge. He stared at me, a small smile playing on his lips.
“What is it?” he asked again, a laugh in his voice that I loved hearing.
“I like you,” I whispered, stepping close enough to him that our toes touched. “I like you so much.” Slowly, I let my hands trace up his arms. He was gorgeous, and my best friend in the whole world, and— “Like, I like you so much that I’m completely sure that I’m in love with you. Forever.”
Everett bit his lip, and the look he gave me then, all dimpled cheeks and joy, was strangely uncomplicated. “I love you too,” he whispered.
Not sure what to say to that, too happy to stay still, I surged forward and stole a kiss from him, sneaking my hands beneath the edge of his shirt.
“I want you,” I breathed against his lips.
When I kissed his neck, his throat bobbed, and I pressed my smile into his skin. It was warm there, smooth beneath his jaw, and at the feel of him nodding, the brush of his head against my temple, a thrill rushed through me.
I kissed him again, his mouth sweet and yielding beneath mine. “Then show me what you like.”