I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
He doesn’t answer, though. Did he see me coming through one of the windows and decide he doesn’t wish to speak to me? Who can blame him after the way I reacted? Yes, his lie hurt, but that was not the wound that broke me the other night.
“Maddox? I’m very sorry for the way I treated you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Silence answers, and in my impatience, I think it’s a good idea to try the knob on his door. The wood gives, the hinges whine, and suddenly, I’m staring into the wagon Maddox calls home.
A wagon that is as empty as it is quiet.
“Hello?” I call, even though he clearly isn’t here.
I’ve never been inside Everett’s wagon, but I have caught glimpses through the open door a handful of times. That one was downright barren compared to Maddox’s.
Half of the small counter is made of wood, the other half slate tiles that look as if they belong on a rooftop. None of the cabinet pulls match, and the ivory chair he brought out for me is stuffed next to an iron fireplace with a cracked glass door. The quilt on the bed at the rear looks as if it’s been stitched together from at least four others. There’s a hammer with only half a handle next to a rusty saw, an old metal washing tub without any handles at all, and a half-chewed boot next to a skinny table propped up with a stump.
He has tied tiny pieces of glass to leather ropes that dangle in front of the window, the evening sun casting colorful shapes through them onto the bowed wooden floor. And on the sill sit two mangled wine corks. Are these from the day we swam in the fountain?
“Maddox?” I jump at the sound of Kerris’s voice outside the wagon. “Thank heavens you’re back. We were worried sick.”
My face burns as I step out into the sunlight to find my cousin cradling Biscuits in her arms.
“Oh, Nia. Sorry. I thought you were Maddox.” Narrowing her eyes, she looks past me, deeper into the wagon, as if expecting me to be something besides alone. “He isn’t with you, is he?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Her face falls in a frown as she rubs absentmindedly at Biscuits’s scruffy head. “We haven’t seen him since Monday. Ever heard he was hunting with Gryffin, but when he went to check, Maddox wasn’t at the camp.”
My stomach sinks even lower. “Do you think he’s all right?” Monday was three days ago. What if something happened to him? The Unseelie side of The Divide is lethal.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Kerris says, but she doesn’t sound sure. She sounds as worried as I am, and the grimace on her face isn’t helping the situation. “Gryffin filled Maddox’s flask with water, so if he’s hurt again, he should be able to heal himself.”
“Well that’s—” Her words slam into me like a brick. “What do you meanagain?”
She blinks up at me, her head tilting. “Hmm?”
“You said ‘hurt again.’ Is Maddox hurt?”
“Just a few scratches, I think. He’s probably fine.”
What if he’s not? What if he’s too hurt to drink the water? What if he’s dead?
Why did I let my mouth run away from me that day? Why didn’t I hold my bloody tongue?
“Nia? It’ll be all right.”
“You don’t know that.” She doesn’t know what I did. “This is all my fault.” With a deep breath, I confess every awful thing I said, watching Kerris’s face grow grimmer with each damning word.
She adjusts her hold on the goat with a heavy sigh. His googly eyes fall closed, like he doesn’t even care that his master is missing. If only someone would hold me like that. “I told you he wasn’t interested in anyone across The Divide. The man has spoken of no one else since the day he saw you at the Beltane festival.”
I knew that, didn’t I? That Maddox was infatuated with me.
If he had told the truth the I asked, I might’ve continued avoiding him. Instead, his lie brought us closer than ever. The day we shared wine and hid in the fountain was one of the most ridiculous, most random, and most wonderful days I’ve ever had.
Without his Gia Gill, it never would’ve happened.
