I tilt my head to the right, not surprised to find Nestor floating nearby. However, how calmly he’s watching us isn’t expected.
His damn wife can’t seem to keep her head on when she makes an appearance in our dream state, one of the reasons why I’m still trying to avoid him there. Nestor’s track record at the mention of the Vexleys isn’t great, either.
“Archer,” I start dryly. “Meet my great-great—” I quickly count how many on my fingers, “—great grandfather, Nestor.”
“Why is he here?” he asks, curious.
“Still figuring that out—I’ll make sure to fill you in once I know more,” I snark.
It’s not fair to take my anger out on him, and the response leaves a bitter, sour taste on my tongue.
“Maybe I can hel—” he says, taking a step toward him.
Narrowly avoiding more physical contact, I twist the doorknob behind me and step to the side, swinging the door open as I do.
He stops before walking through the threshold and looks at me, so much hurt and confusion warring on his features.
“Why are you fighting this?” he asks, breaking my heart. “I know it’s complicated but… does none of it mean anything to you?”
He means the nights we spent together.
Itiscomplicated.
Those nights meanteverything to me—often being the only thing that got me through another day living in my mother’s home.
How do I explain that simply being in his presence is the safest I’ve felt in my entire life, even without being able to see or hear him?
What words do I use to tell him that not only have I waited for him my entire life, I can’t let myself enjoy even a second of time with him?
“No,” I answer honestly, even though my gut tells me to lie. “It’s not that, Archer, I promise. I—I need you to leave.”
He steps forward, and more than anything I wish I could pull him closer. “I don’t understand,” hemurmurs.
Blinking back tears, I steel my shoulders and tell him, “I don’t need you to understand… I need you to leave.”
He doesn’t try to cover the hurt that graces his handsome face. It’s short-lived once Nestor sends a bookcase tumbling over in the den.
Turning back to Archer, I try to school my anxiety when I see the growing concern on his face.
“It’s fine, I’m fine,” I promise him, but grab the front of his shirt and push both of us through the door at the same time Rowyn runs around the corner and skids into the den.
As soon as Whisper is through the door and circling to look back at me, I slam the door shut.
“He’s—uh, temperamental,” I offer lamely.
Right as he’s about to say something, Hexate uncoils enough to look up from the step she’s sunbathing on.
Her forked tongue flicks out before she lets out a low, inquisitive hiss. She’s more concerned about what’s going on inside than our company on the patio.
I shake my head at her. “Nestor.”
The one word is enough of an explanation for anyone who lives at the inn, especially for the one soul who has truly been with me through everything.
She tilts her head, acknowledging Archer and Whisper, before deciding they aren’t a threat and going back to her nap.
When I look back at Archer, there’s a sad resolve radiating off of him. As he takes a step backward, he says gently, “Let me find you tonight.”
My only response is to bite my lip, forcing myself not to eagerly agree without thinking. He lets out a sigh and nods, turning around and walking away.
