Page 42 of Summertime Hexy
I don’t either.
He rolls the map back into its scroll tube, movements slower than usual. He’s been quieter since that flare-up at the second anchor—since our magic synced like two puzzle pieces that had been waiting for the other this whole time.
I bite my lip.
He turns toward me, expression unreadable.
And suddenly my chest istight.
Because I’ve almost lost him once.
And I don’t think I could handle it again.
“Hey,” I say, too fast, too light. “So, hypothetically, if I said something absolutely unhinged and emotional right now, would you pretend you didn’t hear it?”
His brow furrows. “Hazel?—”
“I’m not saying I will. Just wondering if we have a pact in place for that kind of situation.”
He studies me. Sharp. Quiet.
“You don’t have to say anything you’re not ready to.”
And that makes itworse.
Because it’s kind. And patient. And him.
And the words are right there,I’m scared to lose you. I don’t know how to care about someone and not fall apart when they leave.
But I can’t.
So I force a crooked smile and say, “Good. Because I was totally going to say you’re growing on me like magical mold and that I hate it.”
He exhales a laugh. Just one.
But it’s real.
And when we turn to walk back to camp, he doesn’t say anything else.
But his hand brushes mine again.
And this time, he doesn’t pull away.
CHAPTER 16
DEREK
There are few things in this world that unnerve me.
War. No.
Blood. No.
Even death, that old bastard, doesn’t rattle me anymore.
Buthim?
This polished, smirking, silk-cloakedprinceof the Fae—he unsettles something in me I’ve spent the better part of two hundred years locking down with teeth and ritual.
