Okay. BYEEEEEEE!
The portal snapped shut and I huffed out a frustrated puff of steam into the cold air.
I returned home to find half the pack still in the kitchen. I told them a quick version of the encounter and they were ready to search again. Threaten one, you threaten us all. They surrounded my mate and, surprisingly, she looked right at home. All that worry that they would overwhelm her, and she managed them just as easily as Momma. Fallon stared at me as I padded to my room to get some warm clothes. If she could be stubborn, so could I. I helped Momma in the kitchen, rolling up my sleeves to mix a batch of cookies.
Momma ruffled my hair and nudged me as she caught Fallon watching me.
“Don’t let small hurts create big chasms, bardeva.”
Right. I guess I had neglected to mention to everyone that Fallon didn’t comprehend the true consequences of my coming here. We both weren’t in the mood for baring our souls to each other.
“I know, Momma.”
I said the words, but only dread filled my heart.
Chapter 20
Fallon
The chill morning air sent icy fingers tapping down my back. I trembled and the mattress creaked as Declan adjusted, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. The literal cold shoulder shouldn’t have hurt this much. Rationally, I knew Declan was mad. The entirety of the Harrowlands probably knew he was mad. I hadn'ttold him about my illness and he had better things to do than nurse me when the Followers of Virtue were still at large.
Surely, I was supposed to have some type of response to his mate declaration, but I shivered deep in my soul, burrowing into the bed instead. I wanted that too much for it to be real. Even thinking about it might make it disappear, just like every other relationship. It was so much easier to focus on the Fever. Even if it was the very thing that stole my hope.
Lenora warned me about Hollow Fever’s progression but nothing in stage one had prepared me for weeks of constant agony where I barely drew breath to argue with Declan. He was clearly scared. I was scared.
Scared because today, I finally seemed half normal again and I refused to credit Noreen’s new potions, or the rest Declan made me take. That would mean I had been doing it all wrong. But most of all, scared because the wall building up between us wrecked me when this was definitely supposed to be a fake relationship.
How was it a sham when he witnessed my secret in all its messy glory? When he had cut himself on the worst of what my illness had to offer? When he made me come for real-real for the first time ever? Because as soon as the pain died down enough for me to think straight, I was hungry for him. If his care in the bath made me hot, the weeks he spent badgering me, fighting me in that sweet way he had, turned me volcanic.
With a ferocity I didn’t know I possessed, I wantedthat man to do whatever the hell he thought of until my brain spilled out of my ears. The unspoken question of whether Declan could handle the worst of me had found its answer. I wanted to act out every single one of those bookmarks, no matter where they took us, just to feel alive. Our friendship had died a glorious death and I was uncertain of what would fill the void left by our banged up trust.
I sighed, slipping from the bed to get ready. The only cure I knew for emotional discomfort was work. Chopping, kneading and flame were my stress relief. When I stepped into the kitchen, everyone felt the same. Anise’s pack sat around the kitchen table, unusually subdued. Ned came to lean against my legs, licking my hand. This wouldn’t do. They had come to be my family and I would contribute however I could.
Declan had briefly described the failed attempt to get the Followers to reveal themselves and it sounded like the pack was doing everything in their power. As the days wore on, so did the grief. I knew it well. When you were continually stuck in uncertainty, it was a special kind of hells.
I pulled Anise aside into the pantry.
“Thank you for all the lessons. Really,” I said.
She smiled at me in that motherly way I would never get used to. Like I mattered. “Anything for my son’s mate.”
A twang of guilt resounded. As I slipped so easilyinto Declan’s family, how did I forget that I wasn’t really supposed to be here? The memory of the day I walked into my Aunt’s house suddenly overwhelmed me. The lemon polish she used to clean the floor. A child’s emotions welling up. The grief was only compounded by the feeling of being an interloper. Here it was yet again. A family that wouldn’t want me if they knew the truth. My next words grew out of a new urgency.
“Let me return your hospitality. I want to cook for everyone but I need to try this on my own. I need to make a full meal with my magic and see if it will listen.”
“My fear for you only grows, Fallon,” she said.
My back straightened. I was expecting an ‘I’ll be here for you’ or a ‘you can do it’.
“I’m… okay?”
She shook her head. “You understood how to work your magic when you arrived. I just gave you some more information. Let you see possibilities. But none of it matters if you keep up this pace.”
What?Not this again. “I take care of myself.”
“If I had abused a cast-iron skillet the way I’ve watched you abuse your body, would you let me cook with it anymore?”
That was just silly. I wasn’t a skillet, or a horse, or a reason for pity. I put my hands on my hips, as if that would end this conversation.
