Chapter Twenty-Six
Blaze perched on the corner of my wooden dresser, facing the mirror as I held up dress after dress. As each option was weighed carefully, he stuffed his mouth with snacks from his pouch and batted those huge round baxlin eyes of his. Such a help.
I anxiously chattered my teeth while contemplating my choices.
Wearing the overalls Laken had gotten at the market last week was an option, but not a very good one.
This was the Augustuses’ anniversary party; the whole town would attend, along with friends and comrades from their pasts—meaning some of the Wraiths, or ex-Wraiths, would be there.
And Faye. And Leanora, Laken’s sister who lived out of town.
Gods. I cursed myself mindlessly. I’d spoken with them a thousand times over the past twenty-something years of my life.
What racked my brain? What made it impossible to choose an outfit?
Laken and I were great, everything felt right. It felt perfect. Maybe too perfect? Did I miss something? No, of course not; I was being paranoid. But Faye, for heaven’s sake… she’d probably already begun the wedding plans and had a list of baby names to suggest. My stomach churned like butter.
But Laken wasn’t Faye, and I knew that.
I took a deep breath and grabbed a pale-blue corset dress. Blaze seemed to agree with a little jump of his legs.
Next—hair. Pinning my fingers between the loops of the rubber bands, I tugged and slid a loop around it.
But because I hadn’t brushed it before feeding this morning and had instead immediately tossed it up, it got stuck.
Panting, with sore arms from teasing strands of hair out one by one, I took a quick glimpse at the mess I reflected in the mirror.
And a knock came to my door, followed by the golden son himself. Laken stood in the threshold with a look that said, I’ve got you, come here. Closing the distance between us, I sighed as I turned away and felt him gently pull the rubber from my tangled mess.
Under the trim of the blue, my frilly pink socks stuck out, and I kept them on.
Tucking them into my boots, they hardly peeked out from the top, and my dress covered them anyway.
It wasn’t until I’d tamed my hair, sprayed perfume, added a necklace, and told Blaze goodbye that I took in Laken and his outfit.
Having exchanged his brown pants and worn tunics, he sported an all-black outfit featuring a doublet embroidered with silver threads.
Remembering that current and retired Wraiths would be in attendance explained the fancier dressing, but I wondered if it was also responsible for the hollowness of his eyes.
My lips parted. “I like this look.”
His eyes narrowed at my words as he lifted his chin. “Do you, now?”
I moved toward him with an Mm-hmm. “Maybe later I’ll take it back off of you.”
Slipping past him, I darted downstairs, as we were already running late. I didn’t wait to see his reaction but knew he most likely grinned with those dimples and shook his head as though I were a storm of trouble.
The creatures were attended to, the gates locked, and the back door shut. Laken opened the door with a hand on my back, and outside awaited Moon. With no cart nor saddle.
Shutting the door behind me, Laken met me at my side. “Your carriage awaits.”
“We’re riding like this?” My nose turned up. “What even is this considered? Is this rawdogging horseback riding?”
I hadn’t even begun to debate how I’d mount the horse when hands gripped my waist and lifted. Dumping me onto the bumpy spine, I swallowed my discomfort as he tossed his leg over with an easy little jump up. “Not rawdogging,” he said. “It’s called riding bareback.”
I laughed. “I’ll show you riding bareback.”
Peeking over my shoulder, I saw a mischievous spark glinting in his devilish eyes. “Do you need me to take you back inside so we can settle this thing?”
“No.” My cheeks burned. “We’re already late; go.”
I turned around and Moon shifted underneath us. “Could always be later,” he said, but we were already on our way.
Laken’s family lived across town from us…
well, from me. All those nights he’d snuck out to pick me up, he slipped through the entire town.
Past Harold’s fishing store, past Goldie’s tavern and market, past the town house where Ruth and Harvey lived, past the shops and stores, past Wilson’s library, and down my road. What could I say? He was dedicated.
The stone sounded under Moon’s hooves as she treaded, and as I fell into position, I quickly realized the beauty of riding like this. The sun was setting over Honey Brooke; its last bits of light spilled over A-shaped roofs and weaved through windows and gaps between buildings.
We rode past the town square field, where festivals occurred and where our fundraiser would be held days from now.
The grass remained green, and for once, I believed the grass was greener on my side of the fence.
Because the smell of pies and brick ovens floated in the air.
Because Laken’s arms squeezed tighter around my waist. And because, despite how much I hadn’t wanted to return, I’d returned home.
And maybe for once, it didn’t feel lonely.
The Augustuses’ home sat pushed back from the town, but close enough to grab the attention of anyone passing through.
Made of white and cream stone, it already stood apart from the other town houses, enveloped with a cozy elegance only Faye could muster.
The wraparound porch added to its appearance, as did the floating candles scented with rose and maple.
Bouquets of white irises with little fillers and touches of color in blush and yellows.
“Good to see you, Faye.” Laken’s mother hugged me, and I suffocated under a mouth full of strawberry blond hair. Biting down my gag and brushing hair from my lips, I almost forgot to tell her, “Happy anniversary.”
“Thank you, dear.” Faye released me and I attempted to hide my desperate need for air. She stood there with her elder-woman curled hair (you know the kind) and a flattering white dress flowing from her shoulders. “Ah”—she flailed her hands—“everyone’s going to be so excited to see you two.”
Everyone? Standing on the steps of their porch, noises and laughter and chatter came from inside the house lit by floating candles.
In the windows, I counted body after body, far too many.
Why the Augustuses had so many friends, I didn’t know.
But I hoped Laken would never want to have parties as such.
I followed behind Laken with our fingers intertwined, his father greeting us first, thankfully.
Good old Killian. No matter how hard I tried at these kinds of events, my conversations always felt forced and unnatural, like I was some kind of corpse who’d recently crawled out from a grave trying to pass as a living human.
I knew these people and they knew me, so why couldn’t I think of anything to say?
My mind didn’t work in such ways. I never thought to ask about their jobs, where they moved, or how their hobbies were.
I answered questions with short replies and didn’t mind the silence most considered awkward—which made me seem distant and rude, but I wasn’t. Or… I didn’t try to be. Well, I wasn’t trying to be tonight.
Somewhere between Killian and Tillie from two streets over, who used to cut my hair, I lost Laken. And for someone antisocial and fighting the urge to retreat into a hole, that felt like a big deal. An introvert losing their comfort extrovert only ends in great calamity.
Fingers wrapped around my wrist, but they weren’t his. They were dainty and soft as they tried to gather my attention. “Reece, I didn’t see you come in.” Somebody gut me.
“Eliza.” I smiled so wide she should’ve known it wasn’t real. “How are you?”
Her giddy little grin told me something was up, and as much as I cared to listen, I couldn’t help but search the room for Laken. I’d spotted him before with a group of men I assumed were Wraiths, judging by their nearly matching leathers and thick muscles.
“I see you and Laken are back together. That’s so exciting, I’m happy for you guys.”
Nodding vaguely, I smiled. “Yes, thank you.”
“You know, I have some news of my own—”
There! Down the hall and disappearing around the corner, I saw my dirty-blond locks and knew by his walk something must have been off.
“Sorry, Eliza,” I interrupted her, and truthfully felt guilty. “I promise I’ll listen to your news later, but… you must excuse me.” I nudged by her shoulder and began through the winding halls of the house.
Fortunately, I knew this house as well as I knew my own, and the way to his bedroom felt like a fever dream forever imprinted into my mind. I cracked open the red oak door, nostalgia slamming into me like a slap to the face. Apparently, someone else hadn’t changed their childhood bedroom.
Unlike his room at his house, Laken’s room at his parents’ erupted with memories, yet kept the same organization it always had.
A small, tidy wooden desk sat in the corner with his brown school satchel—worn and loved—still hanging from the chair.
The wooden ladder his father had made at his mother’s request leaned against the far wall by the window, draped with blankets she’d quilted and crocheted by hand.
Colors of blues, browns, and rusted oranges blended together as the layers met.
Patterns of faded baby bears and foxes from his younger days were plastered over a thick quilt.
A window that’d been latched too many times to keep him in and me out after we got busted sat opposite of me. Shoes thrown into a corner, little trophies from Laken’s sports days on his dresser, it really took me back in time—a simpler time before everything got messy.
And there, with his arms around his knees, sitting on a bed much too small for him, Laken peeked at me from under his lashes. “You’re the one person in this world I’d allow in this room right now.”