Page 18 of Hopeless Realm
My lips part just as a fluttering feeling kicks up low in my stomach.
It feels nice hearing someone else say it. To know my father was someone to be admired and remembered.
“He was,” I agree, not chancing a look at him. My hands fold across my stomach as I let my eyes trail over the slow-moving clouds. “Your brother was an ass even in his youth.”
A soft laugh skims over his lips, fanning across my jaw.
“I’m glad I’m not the only one who thought so.”
His fingers skim down the column of my throat before bringing them back to his side.
A few people stand near the front of the building, seemingly waiting for something. For the most part, it’s just Ryder and I. Secluded but not.
“Who was your mother?” His eyes narrow in thought.
Is he wondering if my mother was some sort of angelic goddess?
She wasn’t.
“She was a street merchant. My father said she stole his heart. Until he woke the next morning to find she stole his wallet as well.”
My lips purse at the thought. We’re alike she and I. But I never would have done what she did.
“Months later, she left a helpless baby on his doorstep in the dead of night in the middle of winter.” I swallow hard at the memory of my father’s story. “I almost died before he even found me.”
I feel Ryder’s attention on me. I won’t look at the pity I know is in his eyes.
“What was it like growing up in the Hopeless realm? I bet you and Dax and Darrio we’re little shits when you were younger.” I try to force a light tone into my voice, changing the subject as quickly as possible.
His dark lashes skim his cheek bones as he looks to the small space between us.
“Actually, I wasn’t that welcome here.” I study him when he speaks, interested in what their lives were like before I met them. I want to know everything about them. I want to know how they became the men who somehow snuck their way into my heart. “I was alone for days, hiding in trees during the Blood Moon.” My stomach sinks, my hand thoughtlessly drifting into his, needing to feel him, needing to comfort him.
“That’s awful. You were just a little boy.”
He shakes his head, his blonde hair brushing across his forehead.
“Dax found me crying uncontrollably one night. I didn’t talk for weeks. He just waited, took care of me like an older brother.”
“Wait, how old was Dax?”
His eyes widen, a long puff of air leaving his lips as he seems to think about it.
“I don’t know, like a hundred. A hundred and fifty maybe. I never really asked.”
Right, fae years.
“So they were grown. You guys didn’t reallygrow uptogether.”
“No,” he laughs, a reminiscing sound of happiness. “Dax was always like the older brother I wished I had. Then he was this irreplaceable friend. He always had my back.”
“And Darrio?”
A louder laugh shakes through him.
“Darrio fucking hated me.”
“What?”
