Page 111 of Caging Darling

He turns back around and walks backward down the hallway, watching me, one hand in his pocket, his hook tugging at the rim of his beltline. “You’ll see, Darling.”

A voice pipes up from inside. “Wendy? Is that you out there?”

The door flings inward.

Standing there, beaming at me, is Charlie.

CHAPTER 40

Arms wrap me in the most wonderful embrace.

For the first time in such a long time, I burst into tears.

I don’t even realize how long it’s been since I last cried until it happens. Until the tears come bursting through my numb exterior and flood my cheeks, drenching Charlie’s silky black hair that smells so wonderfully of lilac and cannon grease, her shirt soaking up my tears.

“Oh, Winds,” she whispers into my ear, and I realize she’s crying, too. Not with the whole-body sobs that rattle my limbs, keeping me from being able to hold myself up. No, Charlie’s knees don’t go weak. She stands steady, eager to hold me up, keep me from falling. “I’ve been so worried about you. I’ve thought of you every day.”

I’ve thought of you every day.

Every day I thought I was forgotten about. Thought I was suffering all on my own.

“Every day?” I sound pitiful, like an insecure child in need of reassurance.

Charlie pushes herself back off of me, though she keeps her arms on my shoulders, squarely looking me in the face with amotherly care. “Here, I’ll show you.” She takes me by the hand and pulls me into her room.

It’s not exactly on par with where the Nomad sleeps, but it’s clean if not cluttered. There’s a trunk at the end of the functional wooden bed that’s stuffed with clothes, sweaters, and leathers bulging through the gap between the lid and rim. Her black jacket is tossed across the unmade bed.

She kneels and pries a floorboard up, plucking a leather-bound journal from underneath it. Then she leads me over to the bed, draping me with her arms and her touch that melts away the outermost sting of my pain, and sets the journal in my lap.

I open it to find her neat script, as beautiful as she is. Inside are pages and pages of journal entries, though they’re all addressed to someone.

Me.

I choke, my throat swelling, as I flip through the pages. Every letter is addressed to Wendy or Winds or sometimes Friend.

Some of the pages have water stains smudging the parchment.

“You can have it,” she says. “To go through when you’re ready. In case you ever want to know what happened on the outside while you were away. In case you’re ever doubting how hard we searched for you. How hard we tried. Oh, Winds, I’m so sorry—” she says, throwing her arms over me again. This time, she’s the one weeping. “We tried so hard, but we failed you.”

She takes my arm in hers, pressing her thumbs against my sleeve, underneath which is my hidden bargain. “We’ve been too late for a while now.” She glances up at me, like she’s waiting for me to defend Peter. Like she’s waiting for my Mating Mark to speak for me, tell her there was no reason to worry at all.

“You didn’t forget about me,” is all I manage to say.

“Never,” she says, looking heartbroken that I might think as much.

There’s a knock on the door, and a moment later, a burly fae with golden hair and skin steps through the door.

Through my tears, I smile.

“Winds, is that really you, or are my eyes playing tricks on me?” Maddox asks. “I would ask if you were a ghost, but now that it’s coming out of my mouth, I recognize that it does seem a bit insensitive.”

I don’t even care that Maddox is making a joke about Iaso. I throw a pillow across the room at him, and he launches it right back, smacking me in the tear-stained face with it. I laugh, really laugh, for the first time in a long time, and jump off the bed into his embrace.

Maddox’s chest is warm and firm and so, so very safe.

There’s something about seeing my friends that melts me on the inside, and I throw everything into them. Every bit of joy I’d always hoped—a secret, even to myself—to pour out on Astor when we were reunited.

I find that my friends hold my joy precious, keep it safe in their calloused hands, even when I expect them to drop it.

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