Chapter 37 Eryx
Eryx
You were too hard on her.
No, I wasn’t, I bite back.
She looked at us with angry eyes. I think I might cry.
I sigh. It was our first fight, Nightmare. It’s going to be fine.
It goes very still, like it can’t quite believe what it’s processing. Our first fight! No! You’ve got to apologize. Have makeup sex! You’ve got to do it.
Let’s calm down.
I will not, until you go to her room and apologize for being a nincompoop.
The words grind out of me. I was not a nincompoop.
Says you. There’s a beat of silence before it adds, It’s been hours since we got home. Go talk to her.
Not now. I shake my head. Besides, without her distracting us, you can get back to plotting murder.
Murder is so pedestrian. Let’s put our head in her lap.
As much as I hate to admit it, Nightmare’s right. It felt like a spear had been flung straight through my heart when Chelsea said she was going someplace without me.
Yesterday we destroyed a room with our magic. Now she won't look at me.
This hurts worse than the monster's claws.
Apologize. Get down on your knees. Maybe she’ll still forgive us.
Maybe I was too dismissive. But I can’t…
Just say it, Eryx. Admit you love her. Admit you’ve loved her since the moment we met her in the shrubbery.
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Love her. I…
Yes. I love her. I've loved her since the moment we met.
Finally! All this beating around the bush is getting annoying.
Me? I’m getting annoying?
I’ll overlook your tone because I know you’re hurting right now.
I need to get out of my room. It looks and smells too much like me.
I head out and first thing I see is her door, of course.
March your ass over there and explain. Tell her.
Nightmare’s right. I cross the hallway and knock lightly.
She’ll never hear that.
Good God, can you give me just one moment of peace? Nightmare is silent. Thank you.
You’re welcome.
Well, so much for quiet.
I knock again and there’s no answer. My stomach rumbles. Darla probably has supper ready by now. Chelsea might be eating without me.
It wouldn’t be a shock, that’s for sure.
I head to the kitchen, and on the way, the most delicious aroma wafts down the halls—savory with herbs.
Wonderful.
I enter the kitchen. “Darla, it smells like you’ve outdone—”
Chelsea shuts the oven door and turns around. Her face is rigid, cheeks sucked in like she’s biting the inside of them.
Just looking at her makes my breath catch—her golden hair, her small frame, the tight set of her jaw.
She’s mine. All mine. And the thought of losing her makes something dark stir in my chest.
What have I done to deserve her?
Nothing. Not one damn thing, Nightmare remarks. You don’t deserve her.
It’s right about that.
“I gave Darla the night off.” She places the casserole on top of the counter and pulls oven mitts off her hands, dropping them beside it. “I didn’t think you’d mind. I told Nancy to go home, too.”
“And Stave?”
“Doesn’t he live here?”
“He does, but I get the feeling that wouldn’t stop you from telling him to leave.”
Nightmare heaves a sigh. You’re supposed to be apologizing. Not pissing her off more.
For a moment I think she’ll reply angrily, but then she huffs a laugh. “I was pretty close to telling him he could go.”
We stare at each other a beat and then we laugh. Nervously, testing the waters.
The tension from before slowly melts away, and my blood hums.
My God, the things I fantasize about doing to her—all of them. All the things.
I rub the back of my neck. “About earlier. I’m sorry if it came out wrong. Chelsea, I can’t… ”
And the words stop, yet again. They won’t come out. Maybe it’s because I’ve already lost so much. My mother when I was young. My father when I needed him the most in my life.
Everyone I've ever loved has been taken from me. And if I say it out loud—if I admit I love Chelsea—what if the universe hears and takes her too?
What if speaking it makes it real, and real things can be destroyed?
Chelsea studies me a moment, waiting for me to continue, and that’s when I say, “You heated up the casserole.”
“Yes.”
We stare at each other, but I just can’t get the words out. “It smells delicious.”
“I think it probably is.” She pulls foil off the top. A wall of steam wafts up from the dish. “Looks like a beef and noodle concoction.”
“My favorite type of concoction.”
One side of her mouth tugs up, and I know I’ve almost gotten her to forgive me, or to at least understand where I was coming from.
“Would you like some?” she asks.
“Are you willing to serve it?”
She looks from me to the casserole and back, considering. “I’m serving,” she finally replies.
“Then I’ll have some.”
I take that as an invitation to enter the kitchen completely. Chelsea works to find plates, opening cabinets.
“They’re to the right,” I gently point out.
“Ah, so they are.”
She grabs one and places it on the counter. I frown.
“Aren’t you going to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Yep, she’s still mad at you.
“You have to eat.”
She just shrugs as she drops a spoonful of casserole onto the plate and pushes it toward me. “I bet it’s as good as it smells.”
It probably is, too, but I’ve suddenly lost my appetite. “Will you join me?”
“I don’t think so.”
I close my eyes and exhale. “Chelsea…”
“What, Eryx?” she snaps. “Are you going to change your mind?”
Our gazes lock and after a moment I reply, “No.”
“Then I’m not interested in hearing it.”
She wants to fight beside me, but she doesn't understand—I can survive losing another fight. I can take more wounds. More scars.
What I can't survive is losing her.
Oh, feisty. The makeup sex is going to be great!
“All right then.” I take the plate and pour myself a glass of water. “I’ll just be in the study if you need anything.”
I feel her gaze burning into my back as I leave the kitchen.
You’re not going to be making up anytime soon.
For the second time in the past few minutes, Nightmare is right again.
I love her.
And I'll lose her if I don't figure out how to keep her safe—or let her choose her own fate.