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The ceiling was boring to stare at. It was white, plain, and offered nothing in terms of entertainment. That meant my thoughts were left to haunt me. The penthouse was quiet enough to hear Berry snoring, his massive body pressed against my side. His heat was full blast, so I was too hot, sweating even with the blankets kicked off. Leave it to him to make a fae sweat.
I curled around the pillow I was hugging, trying to dispel my thoughts. It was still a dream, thinking about Foster and Waylon with me. They never left. At least, not to go home and sleep. Foster had to do something work-related, but he planned to be back before morning. Waylon had claimed the couch and was stretched out on it. The only person missing from this picture was Jason.
Knowing I wasn’t going to fall asleep anytime soon, I crept out of bed and went down the winding stairs to see Waylon in the darkness. One arm was tucked behind his head, the other resting on his chest over a thin t-shirt. The markings of his tattoo peeked out, teasing me. I still didn’t know what it was. Waylon had never had a tattoo when I knew him. All I could see was lines that started at the bottom of his neck. The blanket he had been using was pooled around his waist, his feet sticking out the other end. I smiled at the view.
This was the first time seeing Waylon so relaxed. The judgmental look I was becoming familiar with wasn’t there, and I got to see the man I remembered. I crouched by him, taking in his features, and overlapping them with the man I remembered him to be. He had always been quiet and stoic, never broadcasting his thoughts. Ten years later, he was a vault to me. I used to understand by a glance what his real feelings were, but not anymore.
A particular memory came to mind, and I had to bite back a sob.
We were having poker night, just the guys and me. It was before we admitted our feelings for each other. There had been a lot of dancing around the topic and tension between the guys. I tried to pretend I was oblivious to it all.
Jason and Foster were in the kitchen, getting drinks and food. Waylon shuffled the cards, his long fingers expertly moving them.
“What are you thinking about?” I had asked him.
His dark eyes met mine before flickering down at the cards.
“Nothing.”
I snorted. “I’m calling bullshit. You’ve been distant all day. Too quiet.”
“I’m always quiet.”
“Then extra quiet. Brooding quiet. The kind of quiet that makes people want to run away screaming. It’s your scary quiet.”
He snorted, trying to smile. “I didn’t realize I had different styles of quiet.”
I chuckled, leaning back. “Oh yeah. You have the silly ‘fucking ecstatic’ quiet when you have a good day, where you don’t stop grinning. The ‘fuck off’ quiet on bad days when your eyes narrow anytime someone tries to get you to talk and you only want to be left alone. The ‘in deep shit quiet’ when you refuse to look at anything and your eyes gloss over because you can’t stop thinking about what landed you in trouble. Should I go on?”
He didn’t say anything for the longest time. Long enough for my smile to slip away. “And this quiet?” he asked. “What does it say?”
I looked him over slowly, knowing he was being absolutely serious with his question. “It’s a ‘drowning and don’t know how to pull myself up’ quiet. The kind that can be devastating if you don’t reach out for help. What’s going on?”
He had met my eyes and with the saddest expression ever said, “My heart aches. I don’t know how to stop it, but it aches.”
I could only agree with him because I felt the same. And I knew the other two did too.
I compared that boy to the man before me. So much time had passed since then. Did his eyebrows furrow when he was ‘confused about an outcome’ quiet? Did his jaw tense when he was ‘need to punch someone in the face’ quiet?
The lines on his face said it was still like that. They were deeper now, adding character. There were wrinkles next to his eyes to show that we were no longer in our twenties. Age was a huge factor for a human. I was able to see how it changed them. For me, and for fae, it wasn’t an issue.
We didn’t age. Immortality was stretched out before me, but it was a sad, lonely existence. Eventually, Waylon’s black hair would gray, his face sagging, the world beating down on his weary body. And I’d remain the same, stuck in Faerie.
Those thoughts led to panic that smashed into me. I fell back on my ass, trying to breathe as I stared at Waylon’s sleeping form. There’d be a point where they’d be gone, buried, bodies decomposing. My lungs froze as my heart twisted, already mourning what was to come.
My breathing sharpened, coming too fast. I tried deep breaths, but it hurt so damn much. A life without the guys? I didn’t want it. There was a weird kind of reassurance while I was in Faerie, knowing the guys were alive and safe. But there would be a day when that wasn’t the case anymore.
It’d kill me. It’d destroy me in a way that Faerie had never been able to accomplish.
I didn’t want that.
“Josie?” Waylon’s voice was foggy until he swore and sat up. His touch was comforting as he rested his hand on my shoulder. The first time he was touching me. And it was only because I was having a panic attack.
My breaths came out as a wheeze.
What did he do to you? Berry’s voice was ice cold. His blue eyes glowed in the darkness, his hulking black shape concealed to Waylon as he blended in.
“No,” I forced out, shaking my head furiously, not wanting Berry to hurt him. “No, it’s not that.”
Waylon followed my gaze and stiffened realizing there was a threat looming over his exposed back.
“I’m okay,” I said. It would have been more believable if I could breathe and the words didn’t sound like I was choking on them. “I only need a moment.”
“Jo, slow your breathing,” Waylon said, his voice painfully soft. “You’ll pass out.”
“Fae don’t pass out.”
“You’re about to prove that as false. Take in slow, deep breaths, let your lungs expand.”
My lungs ached as I did what he said. Eventually, it became easier and I calmed down. I wiped at my face. “That sucked,” I mumbled, barely able to swallow my apology.
“How so?” Waylon asked.
“You shouldn’t have seen that. I shouldn’t have woken you up.”
The silence was familiar, it was Waylon’s ‘thinking of a response’ quiet. At least that hadn’t changed. “I would have been pissed if you had a panic attack and I didn’t wake up.”
That drew a smile from me. He was never one to stay on the sidelines, even if his arch-nemesis was suffering. I loved that about him.
Waylon climbed to his feet and went over to the kitchen, turning on lights as he went. I blinked against the sudden brightness.
“Here.” He was back in front of me, holding a water bottle.
I grabbed it with a nod and took a drink, the cold water soothing against my throat. Berry joined us, settling back down into his more dog-like form, though he refused to look away from Waylon.
“What happened?” Waylon asked.
“Reality check,” I answered.
He helped me to my feet and then moved me to the couch, gentle with me. That made my heart ache for him all the more. He had always been the gentlest of the three. It was nice to see that hadn’t changed.
“What kind of reality?” he asked.
I swallowed, not sure if it was something I wanted to talk about. While I thought about it and it hit me hard enough to literally knock me on my ass, I didn’t want to make it even more real by saying it out loud. My throat tried to close just thinking about it again.
Waylon picked up on it. “You don’t need to tell me. When you’re ready.”
“If I’m ever ready,” I whispered.
“You will be. You need time to think it through first, whatever it is.”
I looked down at my lap. I was in sleep shorts ending high up on my thighs. “Remember when we went to the zoo for one of our dates?”
Waylon’s pause made me think that maybe he forgot about it. “And you ate too much and got sick off the caramel popcorn.”
I chuckled. “Yeah.” My smile dropped away. “And we saw that tiger, that old one. She could barely move she was so old. Remember our conversation.”
Tears pressed against my eyes and I fought to keep them at bay. Waylon’s eyes widened. “She was lonely, but I promised when we were old, we’d still be together. That we’d go through it together.” He blinked a few times and glanced away. His hand flexed at his side. “Ten years and we’re in our mid-thirties.” He took me in slowly, my face, my body, all of me. “Yet, you look exactly the same as the day you disappeared.”
“Fae are eternal. Death only happens through murder, and even that can be difficult.”
“You won’t age.”
I shook my head, the sorrow settling deep in me.
“And we will.”
“Yeah.” My response was more of a gasp. I cleared my throat and looked up at the ceiling.
Waylon’s voice was thick with emotions as he asked, “Why? Why did you go? Why did you leave us?”
My tears fell. I couldn’t hold them in anymore. “Leaving you guys was never in my plans. Ever.” I sniffed, trying to clear my senses. “Faerie was never in my plans, never in a million years. Not even with the knowledge I had at the time, and definitely not with what I know now. I never planned to go to Faerie.”
“But you did.”
I shook my head. “And if I could change it, I would. I’d have fought to stay here.”
Waylon’s expression sharpened as he stepped closer, both his hands clenching at his side. “What do you mean?”
My mouth clicked shut as I realized I’d said too much. They didn’t need to know, and I didn’t want them to. It was best if they believed I had left purposely. Waylon looked like he was going to press for more details when the screen of his phone lit up.
The room was still dim enough that it drew both our attention. I glanced down, noting the name across the screen.
Sofia.
In the background, I could make out two people together in a hug. No doubt Waylon and another pretty woman. Before I had a chance to make out all the details, Waylon swiped at his phone and shoved it into his pocket.
Sofia.
Who was she? Especially to him? She had to be someone important if she was contacting him so late at night. Was she the woman in the picture? A million questions came to mind and they were all on my face when I looked at Waylon.
He grimaced.
“Girlfriend?” I asked in a soft tone.
He gave me one jerk of his head. It was enough to shatter my heart. I bit my lip, holding back a cry. Waylon wasn’t mine. He didn’t belong to me, hadn’t since the day I was taken to Faerie. There was no reason to feel like someone shoved their hand into my chest and stole a piece of my heart.
No matter how much I tried to be reasonable, it didn’t help. I couldn’t stop the possessive feeling of someone stealing him from me.
“She’s pretty,” I finally forced out. “Is she Sofia?”
His lips were pressed tight together, not answering me.
“Is it serious? You have always been a serious guy.”
“It is.”
There was no hiding my wince. “And you love her? Does she make you happy?”
His silence stretched between us uncomfortably. Maybe I should have kept my questions to myself. I didn’t have the right to dig into his personal life. I expected him to tell me that.
Instead, his answer did more damage than I expected as he said, “I thought I saw a future with her.”
Did he mean he planned to ask for marriage? They were that far along?
“Oh.” I worried at my lip. “I think that’s good. It’s good to think about your future.”
“Yeah.” That was all he said.
And I didn’t know how to respond to that. So I jumped to my feet and practically fled back to my room. The entire time, his gaze seared into my back. Still, neither of us said anything to each other.
What was there to say?
