Laken Augustus stood in my house. After three years. Where had he been? And how long had he been back? Why didn’t he reach out? Why didn’t he…
He halfheartedly let out a laugh with the ridiculous smirk capable of making my legs go limp. “You look good, McCarthen.”
And there it was. Laken’s inability to be honest or real, instead reverting to charm and jokes. He flirted as easily as he breathed, and as often. He always had, and it made everyone love him—made me love him. Something about hearing his blasé voice and the lilt of his laugh set me off. I wanted to rip my hair out, scream into an abyss, and crawl into a hole. But currently, those weren’t readily available options.
“Get out.”
I shouldn’t have, but I watched his chest fall with a defeated breath.Gods damn it.A long silence took place before he solemnly said, “Yes, milady. Let me know if you need anything; I’ll be next door. Feeding instructions are on the desk.”
Before he could take two steps, I caught him by the elbow. I didn’t know what to say; I looked around the house trying to find something, anything, to keep him a little bit longer. For whatever reason.
“We have any goat milk?” Our dassin goat milk contained healing properties, which we turned into a lotion to sell.
“Yes.” Laken snickered, apparently not impressed by my not-so-subtle skills of keeping him. “I’ve also started resupplying the stock of healing cream because your father had stopped.”
Not surprising about my father, but good to know.“All their food?”
“That, too.”
Okay then. “What about the eggs? Have you checked recently?” I waited for his answer, secretly hoping he’d made a mistake. That he’d tripped up, blanked out, or was anything other than the perfect golden boy I remembered him as.
“This morning.” Damn.
“Good,” I prodded.
“Good,” he concluded, waiting in front of me for a response.I hate him.
With nothing left to say, and some embarrassment heating my cheeks from wanting to push him further, I stepped aside, and he moved for the door. He reached for the knob and then his words from before finally hit me—
“Did you say next door?”
Laken stopped, turning over his shoulder and leaning against the frame. “Yeah, I bought the Giblins’ place last year.”
Last year.
The words ached somewhere inside of me where he could not see—somewhere I can safely replay punching him—pounding my ribs like little jumping beans.
“You moved back last year?”
“No,” he said, and I decided to listen but keep my pissy-pant anger fuming internally. “I bought it last year. I came back about a month ago.”
“And,” I hedged cautiously, shifting my weight on my feet, “what are you doinghere, exactly?”
His storm-filled eyes shut for a moment too long. His pompous smirk disappeared. “I had time off work. Your father needed help around the place, so I’ve been here.”
Right.
When I forced my eyes back to his, I didn’t seethisLaken. I saw the old one, and a memory flashed in my mind.
There was a time, long ago, when Laken came over almost daily. Back when I’d still considered him a boy and not yet a man, when our lives were intertwined as much and as often as our hands. One spring day in particular, when flowers were just blooming and the breeze was calm, one of our hellblazers broke into the house and flew around hysterically, scorching the place. Roasted Chicken—named by a nine-year-old with witty humor, as all the chickens were named after chicken entrees—wreaked havoc. The difference between a regular chicken and a hellblazer is the latter spits flames. And this mother-clucking flock had been rescued from an underground fighting ring—they were feisty.
Laken stumbled into the living room for shelter fromthe fiery feathers as I took to the kitchen. Both of us ran, screamed, laughed, and tried to catch the damned thing without being turned into a human torch. Laken dove behind the couch, but his leg caught our end table and sent a cup of water flying through the air—just perfectly enough to extinguish what became an angry but soggy chicken.
We were sixteen. And that was a different time.
“Right.” I swallowed. “Well, I’d roll over in my grave before needing your help, so I assume I’ll see you around sometime. Show yourself out.”
He grinned.Grinned. “Same old Reece.”
