Page 44 of The Fae Menagerie
"You don't know that," he said. "I don't even know what I need to leave this place."
"It seems pretty obvious to me." I was shouting at him, the same way I'd shouted at numerous boyfriends over the years."You need to be in a committed and loving relationship with someone who can love you back."
"And you think you're incapable?"
I wasn't incapable. I was scared to death. I worried I would never be enough for anyone. Not only Doyle. This had been my biggest fear in any relationship as far back as my first play dates when I was a child. My parents loved gushing about how great I was to their friends, but when we were alone, they were disappointed. Now that I knew I was … maybe not ace, but maybe gray, or demisexual … I worried my future partners would be just as disappointed in me as my past partners, and ultimately, my parents.
"I like you a lot, Parker."
I swallowed hard. Those were not words I'd ever expected to hear in the same sentence from Doyle's mouth.
"I hope we already have a relationship."
"What?"
Doyle's shoulders slumped, and he sighed into his hands. "Friendship is a relationship. We're friends, right?"
"Friends." I had been in Doyle's enclosure for months now. I'd lost count after nine wash days, or was it ten? I didn't know for sure. We'd read and laughed together. We'd cared for each other, though Doyle still insisted his level of care was spurred by the fae luck coin.
"Again, must you sound so surprised?"
"Sorry." I forced a swallow so my throat wouldn't sound so froggy. "No, you're right. We … what we have." I shrugged, still struggling to find the right words. "I've never had a friend like you, Doyle. Never. I've only known you for a couple months, and already you're closer than my best friend."
I'd expected to die in this place, knowing we would never resolve Doyle's sentence. With Doyle's mother stating she wanted our relationship to bloom, I wasn't so sure. If this was allit took, and she set him free, I would lose my new best friend to the flower court and his wild fae shenanigans.
I didn't like that thought one bit, and it must have showed on my face. Doyle grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet with a joyous laugh. "Best friends. I like the sound of that."
This was the first time friend-zoning someone felt like a lie.
The viewing couchwas even more uncomfortable than I remembered. I tried to stay on my side with my back against the stiff cushions, but I gravitated toward Doyle, same as always.
The perfect gentleman, he kept his distance until I gave in and propped my head on his thigh. He absently ran his fingers through my hair. I loved the scratch of his claws against my scalp.
We fell into our usual rhythm, reading and sharing, reading and sharing. We resumed our easy camaraderie, something I worried we would never achieve again after our shared kiss.
Why did I have to think about it so often? My face burned, but I hid behind my open book.
When the bell rang to end viewing hours, we made our way to the kitchen, once again the scene of the crime. The box of pastries and the letter had been a diversion this morning, but now, nothing sat between us.
Doyle surprised me by launching into a tale of his youth, about the time he was stung by a wasp and almost lost his little toe. He rested his ankle on his knee and rubbed absently at his toe while he talked, and then he inhaled with a sharp gasp. He kicked his leg out between us, and wiggled the offending digit, something I couldn't do without wiggling all my toes. "There's no bump. There's always been a bump, and a black spot. It's gone."
I rubbed my healed ring finger, where the wasp had stung me weeks before. "What could cure both our stings?" I asked.
Doyle swallowed hard and shook his head. "It's not possible, so I won't say it aloud."
I already knew, thanks to the book about his grandmother's refusal to accept her fated mate. Doyle had met his fated mate. But … there was no one else here … except me.
What did that mean for me? I couldn't stay in the fae realm. Once free of the menagerie, I needed to return to my family before Bret ruined our name and reputation.
Still, I couldn't resist the pull to be near Doyle. When he said he wanted to take a nap after lunch, I followed. When he returned to the library to find more bawdy romances for us to read aloud, I followed. When the plates and cups banged in the kitchen, signaling dinner, I followed. I'd been doing the same unconsciously for weeks. Now that I was aware of it, I tried to resist the pull, but it was too ingrained in me. It had become my bad habit to revolve around Doyle the way moons revolved around planets.
I needed to find a distraction, and fast. The alternative was making Doyle my distraction, and neither of us wanted that.
Chapter
Sixteen
DOYLE
