Page 77 of Welcome to Blackbird Hollow
To my surprise, Fern abandons Caden—and, even more surprisingly, the pizza crusts—to bound over to us. She shoves herself between Wyatt and me, her tail thumping hard against my legs.
“Oh,” I say with a strangled laugh.
“Sector. Not-Cookie-Grandma. Hellhounds. Nymphs,” Wyatt says with a heavy exhale. He turns to look at me. “Did I miss anything?”
“Mrs. Cheng has a bazooka,” I add, feeling like that’s important.
“Yeah, I know,” Fallon says, crossing her arms. “About the bazooka, I mean. We got a two-for-one deal.”
“Can wepleasefind a better place to source our damn guns?” Wyatt demands, exasperated, as he hands Fallon the bag of ice. She passes it off to Caden, who wordlessly dumps it into the battered cooler tucked against the wall.
“You’re both alright, though?” Fallon asks, stepping closer, clearly going into hedgerider matriarch mode. “’Cuz you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I snort, stepping forward to pull her into a tight hug. “We’re okay. I just want a bath.”
“Believe it or not,” she whispers into my ear, like it’s some kind of secret, “Wyatt’s got a hell of a clawfoot tub at his house.” She pulls away from me, though her hands still grip my shoulders, to give me an exaggerated lusty wink.
“What is wrong with you?” Wyatt demands, sinking down to let Fern kiss his face, which is a very important part of her routine.
“You didn’t get bit by anything, right?” Caden asks us in a weary tone, looking over his shoulder from where he’s crouched next to the cooler, loading more beer into it.
“A nymph shoved her fingers into my spine,” Wyatt offers.
Fallon blanches, and Wanda’s suddenly at her side, expression sharp with interest. “A nymph didwhatnow?” she wants to know.
“Nope,” I say with a hard shake of my head. “Tomorrow. We’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. Promise. Or go ask Mrs. Cheng. I’m surprised she’s not here.”
Worry prickles me, but then the heavy door at my back bangs open. I jump a mile into the air, whirling to find Mrs. Cheng coming around the corner. Her face is red, her arms full with a big cardboard box.
The rest of the party goes quiet as she drops it onto the ground. Then she puts her hands on her hips and surveys everyone. “I thought we should have fireworks,” she finally says, gesturing to the box.
“Fuck yeah,” Caden exclaims, jumping to his feet with unabashed glee. For a moment, I see the little kid he used to be, and emotion chokes off my throat.
For so long, I’ve only had my parents, and—even though I understand why, and even though I know they love me—they left me, too. I squeeze my eyes shut, tears falling freely from my lashes. These past few years, I’ve had no one.
Out of nowhere, the memory of seeing my neighbor in their yard, everyone gathered around the firepit, comes barreling into my mind. That unbearable loneliness I felt wraps its arms around me in a stifling embrace. I clamp down on my jaw, not really wanting to fall to my knees and sob at the “yay, we survived the Hunt!” party, because I feel like that would ruin the vibe.
When I force my eyes open, I see Julius dipping Mona low—to “Save Tonight” by Eagle-Eye Cherry this time, which is somewhat more appropriate. To Fallon smiling at Mrs. Cheng. To Wanda gleefully accepting a bowl of mac ’n’ cheese fromJaney’s outstretched hands. To Wyatt kneeling so Fern can kiss every inch of his face.
The loneliness dissipates like I never felt it at all, like I never knew its name better than my own, like my family was just alwayshere, waiting for me to have the courage to take the leap.
“Your turn. Gotta keep the baby happy,” Wyatt says, brushing my arm as he rises.
With a tear-choked laugh, I let myself fall to the ground, burying my face in Fern’s fur as she yips excitedly. My body aches terribly, and I have a feeling it might hurt even more tomorrow. I’m worried I’ll dream about that Sector agent’s grin, about how she dragged me with such surprising strength, about how I shoved a knife into her gut without a second thought.
But not tonight, I tell myself as I rise to my feet. “Hey,” I whisper to Wyatt, lacing my fingers through his. “We got our dog. Take me home, please.”
“I just thinkFallon could’ve done without the ‘ew, you’re old married people, go home and have your old married people sex’ comment, y’know?” Wyatt tells me as he strips off his jacket, tossing it into the woven hamper in the corner.
“I think expecting Fallon to have a filter is a foolish endeavor,” I reply with a laugh, peering out the large bay window into the darkness of the forest that curls around Wyatt’s cottage like a half-moon.
“Nah, sweet girl,” he says, suddenly beside me, his hand on my elbow to pull me away from the window and into him. “You can have all the daylight hours you want to look out the windows. Not at night, though.” He reaches above me to pull the curtain closed.
“Oh, is that true, too?” I ask, turning to look at him. “That you shouldn’t look out the windows at night?” I dozed off on the drive home, Fern draped over me like a heated blanket, and my mind came back to life a little. Enough that I’m tempted to search for a notebook—but then the light from the crackling hearth in Wyatt’s bedroom catches the curve of his bicep. I realize he’s shirtless and we’re finally alone all at once.
“Do you ever just turn that beautiful brain off?” he asks with a laugh, sliding his arms around my waist.
I lean into him, our bodies slotting together like the last two pieces of a puzzle, finally whole. “No,” I reply, tilting my chin to look up at him. “Do you think you could distract me?”
