Page 135 of Into the Dark, We Go
"I... well... you know..." His voice dropped, barely audible.
Outside, the rumble of a car engine grew louder. "Hold on, Nick’s home. Want to say hi?"
"Nick? Our Nick?" He sounded surprised, like it hadn’t even occurred to him. "You guys are together?"
I realized then I’d never updated either of them. As far as they knew, Nick and I had gone our separate ways.
"Yeah, kind of," I said, keeping it vague.
"Kind of?" his voice faltered, like he was caught off guard.
"I’m staying with him right now," I said, suddenly feeling awkward. My mind flashed back to the day June had walked in on us, caught in a less-than-appropriate moment in the kitchen of that cabin.
"I see." Mitchell’s pause hung in the air.
"You want to talk to him?" I offered.
"It’s okay. I gotta go," he said abruptly.
"Wait, didn’t you want to tell me something?" I asked. I could feel him holding something back.
"No, it’s nothing. Just wanted to check in." His tone had gone flat, like a door quietly shutting.
"Well... alright then," I was puzzled by his reaction. Why would it matter to him if I were with Nick?
"Yeah. Take care, Foster," he said, then hung up.
Nick stepped into the kitchen, bringing a swirl of winter air that briefly cut through the warmth.
"Cold out, huh?" I asked, though I already knew the answer. February rarely surprised.
"Very," he said, shedding his winter coat as he took a deep breath. "Smells amazing. I didn’t know you cooked."
"I don’t," I admitted. "Just wanted to do something nice for you. So, eat at your own risk." I peered at him. "Mitchell called earlier."
Nick’s expression shifted. "What did he say?"
"Not much. He hung up out of nowhere. Now I’m wondering if something’s going on."
Nick smirked. "Perhaps he was about to confess his undying love for you and got cold feet."
I laughed. "Yeah, sure." But my smile faded. "What if someone was bothering him, and he was trying to warn us?"
"Then why didn’t he?"
"I don’t know. Maybe he thought we’d be safer not knowing. Mitch has always been protective."
Nick nodded slowly. "That sounds like Sergeant Mitch."
A storm raged outside,the tempest’s unrelenting wail jolted me awake. I turned over, reaching out for Nick’s warmth, but his side of the bed was empty. I got up and wandered into the room he used as an office. He was hunched over the table, surrounded by books and papers, the grimoire open before him.
"Still trying to summon the devil?" I asked, half-teasing.
Nick jumped. "You almost gave me a heart attack," he said with a shaky laugh. "Why are you up?"
I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders. "Couldn’t sleep."
He beckoned me over, and I curled into his lap. We sat quietly for a while, the wind rattling the windows as the storm battered the house. Nick held me close, steady and calm.
