And now, they’re standing in front of me.
“We’re going to talk about this at home,” I say, voice strained. “I have to go back.”
Chapter 22
Blaze
I’m rattled as fuck.
Cornelius on the island… Another troll on her street… Sprites fuckingeverywhere?—
“Go ahead. I’ll meet you both back at the house,” I say as North holds the door open for them to go back inside.
“I’ll go, you stay. You know I’m itching to handle that asshole,” North argues.
“No,” Juniper says, slamming the door before she can go through. “No, you’re not… If either of you go anywhere tonight, if you leave this bar, I… I’ll… I don’t know what I’ll do but you won’t like it.”
Her concern almost makes me smile. “It’s to keep you safe,” I say.
“We aren’t disappearing, darling,” North says.
“Then keep me safe by beinghere. I can’t take losing either of you. I just…” She leans her back against the doorway and huffs, chin dipping. “Stay,” she eventually manages.
How can I say no to her?
North and I exchange a quick glance, nodding in agreement.
He presses his knuckle beneath her jaw and brings her eyes to his. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes,” she whispers.
North kisses her softly, and I lean in to kiss the top of her head.
For the remainder of her shift, North and I sit quietly at our table. She brings by a couple of drinks and sandwiches, tossing the items down onto the table with such carelessness that the food nearly flies out of their baskets.
We deserve so much worse.
“How long until she forgives us, you think?” North asks as he’s trying to put the meat back on his bread.
“As long as it takes,” I reply.
“What the hell was Corny doing here already? We still have another day,” North hisses.
I cringe at the memory, the hungry look in the fae’s eyes when he’d looked at Juniper. “It means she knows we’re not giving up. We need to put up barriers where we can tonight. After she’s asleep. The buildings. The beach. Her street…”
“She isn’t going to like that,” North says.
“I don’t like it either, but it might buy us some time tomorrow. Let us spend her birthday without having to fight off kelpie and sirens in the waves.”
“Fuck, not the kelpies,” North mutters. “I haven’t seen one of those in decades.”
“No more chasing the things she can’t see, at least not until we have to,” I decide, staring at North. “Not until she knows everything.”
“And Sunday?” North asks.
“We run.”
She still hasn’t said anything when we get to her home.
