My fever broke as I slept through the entire afternoon and night, yet I still feel lethargic and burned out. It doesn’t take long after my head hits the pillow for the lure of sleep to draw me back in, even with the hushed volley of insults outside of my door.
Even though I can’t mentally deal with it right now, I can’t deny that it soothes an inexplicable part of me to know that they’re both still here. Yet, honestly? It pisses me off to no end that the assholes that made me upset in the first place can make me feel better simply by being here without doing a damn thing.
* * *
The gnawingache in my stomach is punctuated by an obnoxiously loud growl that reverberates around the shower stall. As much as I want to get something to eat though, I’m used to dealing with a perpetual state of hunger. Hot showers on the other hand are something that I’ll never take for granted. And nothing helps shake off the gross feeling of being sick and lying in bed for days better than a shower.
Toweling off, I pull on a pair of Ian’s sweat pants and a t-shirt, favoring comfort over trying to impress anyone. While I yank a brush through my tangled hair and brush my teeth, I give myself a mental pep talk, trying to psyche myself up. Yet I just have scattered thoughts and mixed emotions, not even sure what outcome I’m hoping for. Not like I’m trying to con them into being stuck with me. Like I told Ian that night at the gas station; I don’t beg.
Things will work out however they’re meant to. If that means that they decide they don’t want to pursue the bond, might as well rip off the band aid so we can all start moving on and go our separate ways. I’ve stayed in this town too long anyway; easier to track down when you put down roots.
With one last deep breath, I exhale slowly, letting it take all of my anxious energy with it. I’ve survived plenty of other things. Maybe not worse than what’s coming, but enough to know that I’ll be okay eventually.
Broken people are a stronger breed. We have to pick up our own shattered pieces while bleeding out, no one else there to do it for us. And still, we carry on, with plastic smiles and hearts that harden more with every step.
Following the scent of food, I head into the kitchen, sitting on one of the barstools beside the center island since there’s no dining room set up in the house, Ian used to living alone.
He turns when I enter with a hesitant smile. “Figured you’d be starving, but wasn’t sure what you would want, so I kind of went overboard.”
My mouth waters as he slides an empty plate and a fork my way, the island covered with dishes so I can help myself to whatever. I waste no time heaping food onto my plate, my stomach growling as another pang lances through, as if it’s trying to remind me we’re starving.
“I appreciate it.”
Shoveling food into my mouth, I don’t ask the obvious question, not wanting to seem like the first thing I’m worried about is where Rheyas is. With Ian going through all of this effort, it would feel like an insult. Especially since it’s clear this is an apology, channeling his nervous energy into trying to be helpful where he can since we’re in such uncharted territory that has us all on edge.
“Feeling better?” He leans an elbow on the counter, sitting across from me.
I nod before gesturing with my fork. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
Grabbing a plate, he ends up mostly picking at his food to carry on the illusion of everything being normal for a little while. “Rel,” he finally starts, running a hand through his hair and pinning me with a raw look. “I’m sorry.”
Forcing myself to swallow, I reach for the bottle of water beside me. “Don’t be.” Taking another bite, slower this time, I try to keep my voice light. “Some things just don’t pan out despite our best intentions. I’ll get my stuff together after I’m done eating and get out of your hair; no need to make a big thing out of it.”
A shiver runs down my spine, a sense of awareness twisting in my stomach as my abilities start to sluggishly wake back up. Unlike the way my magic’s been trying to bust out of my skin and merge with Ian’s, in response to Rheyas, it’s more of an…awareness.
That same feeling of bees dancing on my skin like when I first woke up and disregarded returns, antsy and unsettling. But with it comes this tug, letting me know that he’s behind me, like it wants to investigate further, unsure if he’s a threat or not. There’s just silent intrigue that refuses to be ignored, demanding answers that I don’t know how to give.
“You said we’d have a conversation after you awakened,” he reminds me, leaning closer. Putting his hands on the counter on each side of me, he cages me in, but pointedly doesn’t touch me. “While I agree with your decision to leave the mage behind, you said all of us would discuss this like adults.” Tilting my head up to face him, I watch as he grapples with his tenuous control over his patience. “That includes you. No running. You want to leave, fine, but have the balls to say the words first.”
My heart starts beating faster as he crowds my space, refusing to back down. He doesn’t need to elaborate on what words he’s referring to, his meaning clear. Anyone that walks away from this meeting is free to do so, but only after there’s no more room for confusion where someone stands. If I want to walk away, I need to officially reject them so we can all move on, one way or another.
After all, it’s the hope that will really kill someone. The ‘maybes’ and ‘what ifs’, the hope that maybe down the road things will be different, that their mind might change and you’ll get a second chance. Better to crush it now before it consumes any of us.
“Shit, that’s not what I meant,” Ian groans, scrubbing a tired hand down his face, realizing how I took his words. “I literally just meant that I was sorry for everything.” A heavy sigh whooshes from his lips. “This is clearly why we need to talk.”
Though my stomach is twisted in knots, I keep picking at my food. Both to give me something to occupy my hands with so that I don’t fidget, and because it will help me get my strength back sooner. And as I wait to see how this conversation is going to pan out, deciding the course of my next step in life, it becomes clear that my magic is the only thing I can actually rely on.
“So who wants to go first?”
Rheyas is still hovering over me, and he makes no indication he’s about to move, like he thinks I’ll bolt if given the chance. As it becomes clear that no one is excited to start, he ends up sinking into the chair beside me with a grunt and pins Ian with an icy glare. “You couldn’t shut up all day, yet now you’re out of words, when they actually matter?”
Flipping him off, Ian slides his plate to the side, resting his elbows on the counter and massaging his temples before sitting up abruptly, gripping the edge of the island for support. “I can’t imagine a life without you in it now, Rel, and I don’t blame you if after the clusterfuck the last week has been, you don’t want to stick around. If you’re done, I’ll respect that, but that doesn’t mean I’ll be able to just…move on and forget about you. And I can’t promise I won’t try and track you down just to make sure you’re okay, even if I know that’s dumb and stalkery, and you’ll probably have me arrested.”
He takes a fortifying breath before continuing, slowing down a bit. “I hope that you’ll give me a chance to pull my shit together, because I don’t want to lose you.” His steely gaze pins me in place, and I have to consciously remind myself to take another breath. “But I’m just not ready to actually cement the bond. I’d rather we get to know each other better first before jumping into something that’s irreversible, fates and their plans for us be damned. I need some time to wrap my head around all of this, but I’m asking you to stay while I figure it out. Iwantyou to stay.”
As much as I know it’s unrealistic to have people I barely know proclaiming their love for me once finding out we’re mates, there’s a silly part of me that’s a little bummed. It’s logical, what Ian’s proposing, and any sane person should follow his example. But the girly part of my brain that once daydreamed about what would happen if I ever found my fated wants illogical. She expected someone overcome with joy at the prospect to whisk her away from her sad little life and shower her with orgasms and praise.
But that’s the thing about dreams…they aren’t real.
