Page 3 of A Bargain with the Fae King

Just long enough to yell at May for something stupid that I don’t even remember. Couldn’t even blame it on icy roads. Afterward, the hard half-looks from Dad and Elise were horrible. The silence was worse. Yelling, I could’ve handled. I deserved it. But nothing? My throat closes up just thinking about it.

They still love me, but sometimes I see it, a fog behind their eyes, a laugh a little too loud, comments that lack solid sincerity.

That night, with May in the hospital, the cabin felt too comfortable, too familiar, too special. Every moment made my skin crawl and my stomach turn until I couldn’t take it anymore.

And so, I ran into the woods, down the path, away from the lake then up a steep hill.

My gaze pans up the slope. Empty. Worry stabs into my chest. “May?”

“You’ve got to see this!” Her voice carries down to me and I can picture her bouncing up and down, pointing to something, but she’s out of sight.

Shit.

I sprint up the hill as fast as my legs will carry me, slipping on old leaves. My heart pounds. Can’t let her out of my sight. Can’t let anything happen to her. Not again.

Sunlight catches on blond hair. A heavy sigh bursts from my lips as I near the crest, and my whole body sags in relief.

May spins in a circle, her little arms reaching for the sky.

“They’re so tall,” she squeals.

Breath catches in my throat so hard I choke on it.

The trees she dances between aren’t just tall; they’re massive. Too big for this forest. But that’s not what has my legs shaking. Verdant grass spreads in an unbroken carpet amidst the trees ringing it in a perfect circle on top of the hill.

Not natural. No way.

But this grass… I step inside the tree circle and kneel, running my hands along the soft blades. So lush.

A hint of honeysuckle teases my nose.

Thatscent.

On that horrible night months ago, I ran until my tears drowned me, and I collapsed onto a carpet of fresh, green grass, so out of place for the forest in December. It didn’t make sense. Neither did the honeysuckle scent.

But the most unusual thing of all was the man who found me there.

His warm hand in mine was solid, comforting. Green eyes, a little too bright in the darkness, gazed into mine as I sniffled and spilled all my sorrow and guilt over the accident.

He didn’t judge. Didn’t shame.

But when I woke the next morning, I was tucked under a blanket on the back porch of our cabin. I was sure I’d dreamed it all. Some traumatic hallucination or something.

Until I opened my clenched fist to find a strand of blooming honeysuckle vine. Impossible in December.

That was only the first time I saw him.

Riven. That’s his name. He appears as shadows, my own friendly ghost who visits my dreams from time to time. I know he isn’t really there. Freshman year of high school taught me that sneaking a boy into the house without Dad or Elise finding out was literally impossible.

But whatever, whoever, he is exactly, I didn’t care—I don’t care.

He was my rock when the rest of my world fell apart, someone I could talk to about my guilt, about dropping out of school and getting a job to help pay the bills, about the days I just wanted to lay down and give up.

He never lets me. Riven insists I’m important. He tells me I can help him and his people.

Yeah right.

I’m not sure why my brain made that part up. It’s been almost two weeks though. I’ve counted. Way too many days since he said his people were in trouble and asked me to come back to him.

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