Page 56 of Welcome to Blackbird Hollow
“Let me finish up with this pie,” she says over her shoulder. “I think it might actually break Caden if I promise key lime and don’t deliver. Then we’re having a godsdamn girls’ night. You need it.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” I ask, though I’ve never seen Fallon walk anything back once she’s made a decision. “With Halloween tomorrow?”
She turns to me then, a wicked smile on her face. “That’sexactlywhy it’s a good idea. Get us loosened up. And, if the Wild Hunt takes us, at least we had one last party before the end.”
The tequilabarely burns as it slides down my throat, which is a pretty good sign that I’m drunk. I still slam the lime wedge between my teeth to cut the harsh flavor, my eyes watering. Beside me, Fallon cheers gleefully.
“See?” she asks, punching my shoulder. “Girls’ night fixes everything!”
I laugh, leaning onto the wide bar. Rock music blares from the speakers in the corner. Every single person in this place knows Fallon, and apparently a lot of them know about me, too.
“Why is the blonde girl giving me the stank eye?” I ask Fallon, looking over at her and gesturing at a corner table with a nod of my head.
She peers around me, her eyes narrowing. “Oh, she’s been sweet on Wyatt foryears,” Fallon cackles, rubbing her hands together in delight at the same time my stomach twists. “She’s gotta be pissed that some city girl came in and scooped him up.”
“How would she know that already?” I ask incredulously, taking a gulp of the local cider.
Apparently the folks in Blackbird Hollow have decided Wyatt and I are an item, even though we sure as hell haven’t had that talk ourselves. Though I did almost go for it this morning, sitting out on the porch with coffee, the mists rolling in and the foliage gleaming bronze-bright, the whole thing like a movie scene. But just as I’d opened my mouth, I remembered the guns and the bullets and the plainclothes agents. I remembered that there was a distinct possibility I’d brought more attention to Blackbird Hollow just by being here.
“Small town, babe,” Fallon replies with a roll of her eyes, interrupting my thoughts. “Everybody’s all up in everyone else’s shit.”
“Do you still wanna vandalize one of your ex’s cars?” I ask, my words slightly slurring. The music pounds thickly in my ears, and I’m too warm in my barn coat.
“We haven’t even cried about our traumas yet!” Fallon says, slamming her fist onto the bartop a bit too strongly. The whole thing shakes, and other patrons look over at us. “Don’t rush the schedule, Blythe. I’ve got this down to a science.”
“I trust you.” I laugh, but I actually mean it. Being here in the locals’ bar—a place called Lucky’s that serves a late-night brunch on Sundays, when Janey closes the diner up early—underscores how much I feel like a puzzle piece finally slotted into its rightplace. And that’s what makes me turn to Fallon, my heart racing as I open my mouth.
“Fallon,” I say, reaching across the bar to grip her wrist. “I’m fucking terrified.”
She meets my gaze evenly, though her eyes widen slightly. “About Samhain? The Hunt?” she asks, all her attention on me, that dark gaze no longer roving the bar for potential threats.
“No, not really,” I say, my tongue too big for my mouth, the alcohol and the fear pounding through my veins. “Well. About everything.”
Without hesitation, she looks at the bartender and gestures before taking me by the hand and leading me to a booth tucked into a corner. The music is a little quieter here, and I feel less visible, less like the new animal exhibit in the zoo.
“So,” Fallon drawls, resting her hands on the table, “you’re terrified. About everything. Tell me more.”
And, fuck, I do. I probably tell her too much. About my grandfather’s farm, about watching him die, about my grandma, about how yesterday brought back all of those fears. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but I can’t deny how comfortable I feel with Fallon. How I can’t understand how I lived without her for this long—or Wyatt, for that matter.
“I’m just afraid that there’s something Sector doesn’t like about me being around hedgeriders,” I tell her, raising my hand to chew on my fingernails, but Fallon snatches my wrist and shoves my hand back into my lap. “And I’m so, so scared that something is going to happen to you or Wyatt or Caden if I stay. Even though I want to stay. I can’t imagine not staying. But I also can’t live with myself if something happens.”
Fallon listens patiently as I talk, handing me a handkerchief from the pocket of her leather jacket when tears stream down my face. This probably isn’t the fun, rowdy girls’ night she imagined, but I can’t keep this bottled up any longer.
“It’s easy to forget how new you are to all of this,” Fallon says, her tone light but serious. “You fit in so well. I forget that you don’t know some of the basic stuff about our world.”
After making sure I’m okay, she launches into an impressively detailed conversation—especially considering how much tequila I watched her consume—about hedgeriders and Sector. About the Hedgerider Council, which is run by “stuffy old white guys in the U.K.” but also has a local committee headed up by folks here.
“It’s not something I’m deeply involved in,” Fallon says with a shrug, “but trust me, Sector can’t just kill a hedgerider, no matter the circumstances. There’s a lot of diplomacy behind the scenes.”
“Can’t imagine why they don’t involveyouin diplomacy,” I say dryly, earning a wide grin from Fallon.
“Activity has certainly kicked up since you arrived,” she concedes, crossing her arms. “And are they paying closer attention to us because you’re here? Maybe. But it’s not entirely because of you.”
I let out a long, jagged exhale. I feel about fifty pounds lighter and take what feels like the first deep breath since yesterday afternoon. “As long as you’re sure,” I say, dabbing my eyes with Fallon’s handkerchief.
Bad night for her to manhandle me into a makeover. I never would’ve pegged Fallon for having the time to get good at makeup, but shit, she’sexcellent. I don’t want to ruin her artistry. Not to mention that Wyatt will be picking me up later, and now that I know I’m not an active danger to the people I’m beginning to care about very, very much, I’d like to look hot as hell.
“I’m sure,” Fallon says with a smile. Her expression falters, something soft and vulnerable crossing her sharp features. “Alice?”
