Page 2 of A Bargain with the Fae King

“What’s up?” I tuck loose hairs behind my ear and grimace at the perspiration already dotting my skin. It’s not even noon, but that’s summer in the South for you.

Her gaze darts around, focusing more on the rocky ground than me. A question lingers just behind her pinched brows. I suck on my teeth and pray it has nothing to do with the Christmas tree that still occupies the corner of the cabin’s main room. My stomach bottomed out the moment I laid eyes on it. Elise’s pale complexion showed just as much horror. We hadn’t taken it down after the accident. That was the least of our worries, and because we hadn’t been back since… Well, it was no wonder Dad turned right back around and grabbed the fishing poles from the car, insisting we walk down to the lake before it got too hot. No doubt one of them would slip back early and take it down before the rest of us returned.

“Are faeries real?” May’s steady big-eyed gaze says she hopes so.

Faeries. My breath escapes in a huff of relieved laughter. “No, don’t think so.”

Her shoulders droop, and instant regret settles in my chest. Maybe I should have told her yes. I mean, just a few months ago, I told her multiple stories about the Easter bunny.

May’s head tilts to the side. “Then who makes the flowers bloom?”

“Mother Nature?” My lips quirk up on one side. I flick her ponytail as I step around her on the trail.

“Hey!” She swats at my hand.

I dodge. “Too slow.”

Laughter shakes my chest as I skip ahead, leaving May chasing after me while talking nonsense about the fairies in some show she watched and how they tend to all the plants in the forest.

Days like this—having fun with May, enjoying nature—are my favorite, the kind that make my worries slip away. But there won’t be many more soon. Something tight and terrible wraps around my chest, and it takes everything I have to suck in one breath after another as I skid to a stop.

“Let’s go up there.” May points off to the right.

She doesn’t notice my mood. Thank God for that. How can I tell her that this isn’t just a fun family visit? That we’ll be selling the place? I give myself a shake. Later.

“Up there?” I follow the angle of her arm into the trees. “The path goes that way.” I hike my thumb toward our cabin.

“But look how tall that hill is.” She bounces on her toes. “We could see everything.”

Tall trees reach toward the sky, stretching above the others nearby. I squint, tilting my head to see between the limbs blocking my view. A tingle crawls down my spine. Yeah, it’s the top of the hill and all, but something is off.

Weird. And familiar. But it shouldn’t be. We pretty much always stick to the trails. The air around me chills as if a cloud has passed overhead, but the sky is clear and blue.

May pushes through the underbrush before I have time to argue.

“Not too fast.” I reach toward her as she rushes ahead. Her slight limp—a result of the accident—adds weight to my shoulders with every step. It doesn’t slow her down though. Not a bit. She’s strong like that. Determined.

She could be my younger self—dreamy, playing outdoors, full of energy. Except that’s about where the similarities end. She’s the blond, bubbly one—Elise’s looks, and God only knows whose personality.

Me? I’m all Dad. Brown hair, brown eyes, and a personality eternally battling between fire and rainclouds.

May doesn’t stop until we’re more than halfway up the slope to the hill she spotted. Good thing too. Something keeps drawing my attention, but I can’t quite place it. I rub my hands up and down my arms, chasing away the goosebumps. Just shadows. Birds. Squirrels. Totally normal.

I glance back over my shoulder and scan the forest. Nothing out of the ordinary.

When I turn back, May is waiting for me, hands balled on her hips. The light catches the scar on her face, a jagged line running from temple to chin. The sight stabs me straight in the chest with regret. She’ll have it all her life thanks to me.

“Slow poke.” May sticks out her tongue before twirling around and bolting up the hill.

She doesn’t notice the breath catch in my throat or the way my shoulders hunch in like I’ve been punched. Déjà vu locks me in place and refuses to let me go.

I’ve been here before, on that horrible night.

I know it in my bones, as if my body remembers being here and the despair I felt.

My head spins just like it did when I stumbled out of the driver’s-side door of my car. Stumbled and fell, because the whole thing was on its side, smashed up against the tree.

I only took my eyes off the road for a moment.

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