29. Laurel #2
“So, who was that old boyfriend you mentioned before?” he asked abruptly.
All the emotions I had tied to Baron came flooding back.
During Escape and Evade, I had finally managed to forget him.
For the first time in weeks, I had felt like myself instead of the hollow, aching version of myself who spent every day pretending not to miss him.
And now Peter had asked one question and dragged Baron back into the space between us where it would be impossible to forget him again.
“Baron Blackwellson,” I said flatly.
Peter, bless his heart, tried valiantly to appear uninterested, but his curiosity got the better of him. “The Sheriff of Nottingham’s son?”
“That is the one. He’s the sheriff now.”
“I heard Dad talking about him.” Peter pulled at a few blades of grass. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? You being Robin Hood’s daughter and him being…”
“Yes, hilarious.”
Peter fell silent.
Immediately, I felt bad. There was no reason to be snappy with him. He’d done nothing but be kind to me since I arrived. He didn’t know that every casual mention of Baron felt like someone pressing on a fresh bruise that refused to heal.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m not mad at you.”
“It’s okay.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“What happened between you two?” he asked finally. His eyes stayed resolutely on the ground, and the words sounded forced, as if he had been fighting the question and lost.
I shrugged. “We were just too different. I thought I could handle it, but I was wrong.”
“Were you the one who called it off?”
I nodded.
I regretted breaking things off with Baron.
Despite his past, Baron had always made me feel safe.
Infuriated sometimes as well, but always safe.
For a short period of time, I had felt as though I could trust and rely on someone completely.
I thought he would be there for me no matter what, then I had stupidly brought up things after I’d said I’d forgive him.
It was no wonder he hadn’t sought me out. I’d been in the wrong on all accounts at the time, then I’d driven the wedge deeper between us by avoiding Baron, and now I was on my own again, looking out for myself and acting like I didn’t need anyone.
But after being with Baron, not needing anyone felt desperately lonely.
“I missed you, Laurel,” Peter said suddenly.
I looked over at him. He was watching me closely, earnest and hopeful in a way that made my stomach twist. I picked at a small hole in my sleeve and said nothing.
I didn’t return his feelings, not even a little.
But it would’ve been cruel to say that so baldly and I couldn’t think how to phrase it in a kinder way.
I hadn’t missed Peter at all; I’d missed Baron, even if everyone saw him as a villain. If I was supposed to be with someone, it was supposed to be a good man. Every girl wanted a knight in shining armor, valiantly riding in on a white horse, didn’t she?
I glanced sideways and Peter smiled encouragingly.
Peter counted as a good man. He was Little John’s son, and I considered Little John one of my closest friends and confidantes.
The two were alike in many ways. Surely being with Peter would be like having a constant best friend.
He was studying to be a healer. He was intelligent.
We had a few common interests. Not many, perhaps, but a few.
We’d been friends for a long time when we were children.
We had even joked about getting married when we grew up when we were very small.
Peter was comfortable to be around, and he loved Sherwood Forest just as I did.
He wasn’t difficult to please. He helped build shelters for widows and nursed sick animals back to health.
I should want to be with someone like him.
I exhaled quietly. There was no reason I had to leap into any relationship at all.
I had been perfectly content to stay single and dedicate my life solely to my work for the last five years.
I could go back to that. But as I considered the possibility, a raw hollow opened inside me.
Father and most of the Merry Men were away on missions.
At the castle, I had no one to talk to. Each night, I returned to communal living quarters that didn’t feel like mine.
I was surrounded by people all day and all night and still felt unbearably alone.
This week had been fun because I had finally been able to laugh with someone. I had remembered old jokes. I’d been seen by someone who knew my real name, the real me. There was nothing wrong with wanting a companion, was there?
Peter reached for my hand and entwined our fingers.
The moment his hand closed around mine, I wanted to pull away.
It wasn’t because Peter had done anything wrong.
He hadn’t. His touch was gentle and hopeful, but that only made it worse.
He deserved someone who wanted this with him.
I made a great effort to try to conjure up a connection between us.
I focused all my attention on our joined fingers, waiting for that thrilling, tingling rush of anticipation to flood through me.
I wanted to feel the same spark I’d felt with Baron.
Surely it shouldn’t be so difficult to find that with someone else.
But I felt nothing.