Page 23 of Wings of Lies
“Thanks for the kind sentiment,” I said dryly, handing him the tags to my clothes.
He winked. “Anytime.”
At the one and only cashier, Oliver paid the outrageous amount and packed our stuff.
“Let’s buckle up and make some mischief!” He handed me a backpack and shrugged on his own, leading the way out of the store.
Within five minutes of our walk, Oliver paused in front of the café from last night. The gall he had for bringing us back here. We didn’t do anything crazy, but I’m sure our faces weren’t long from their memory. No way was I going in.
“Do you want some food? Those blueberry muffins did nothing for me,” he said, rubbing his flat belly with his other hand on the door.
“Is this the only café?” I huffed.
Oliver laughed at my discomfort. “Probably. Not coming in?”
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“Fine, I’ll buy you something. Not my fault if you don’t like it,” he sang back.
Rolling my eyes, I removed my pack from my already sore shoulders and leaned back against the brick face. For how late it was in the morning, I was surprised not as many people were out and about. A few elderly couples strolled by, walking hand-in-hand, smiling and laughing. They were oblivious to anyone around them, happy to give all their attention to each other.
“Here.”
I jumped. Oliver slapped a warm, wrapped sandwich into my chest, taking me out of my thoughts. Melted cheese and meat wafted into my nose.
“Thanks.”
“Yeah.” Oliver turned and strode away.
“Wait!” I heaved my backpack back on and rushed after him. “Where’s the fire?”
Oliver barreled on, ignoring me. I jogged, trying to keep up with his long legs. As much as I wanted to hurry to Elora, I didn’t have the stamina to sprint the whole way.
“Oliver.” I grabbed his bicep. “Slow down. What’s the rush?”
He shrugged off my hand. “Nothing.”
I frowned. “Did I do something wrong?”
He went into the café smiling and came out almost… bitter.
“No, but if we want to get to Elora, we can’t dilly-dally.”
True, but his words lacked their usual pizazz, and it was his fourth sentence within ten minutes. On the way to the superstore, a short walk, Oliver practically recited an entire book. But he had a habit of not talking when I wanted him to.
Did I pry more?With one look at his sour expression, I decided against it.
“Okay. But slow down. I’m half your size and was just in a coma.”
He considered that and continued.
Oliver couldn’t keep a slow pace to save his life. When he did slow down, it lasted a couple of minutes before he sped back up. Then, once he noticed I lingered too far behind, he’d slow. This process went back and forth. Regardless, my pace never changed. He couldn’t leave me behind, and I was in no shape to sprint for two days.
At least I could walk with weight. But Oliver had mentioned quicker healing abilities.
When he plowed into the clearing from yesterday bordering the forest we ran out of, I lowered the last bite of my sandwich and hesitated on the sidewalk.
“Is it safe to go back in there?” Nerves danced in my stomach, keeping my feet planted.
