Page 40 of Faun Over Me

Avery hunched over her coffee, grasping it with both hands as if the speckled mug were the only thing keeping her in her seat. Across from her, Mac chewed her thumbnail, bouncing her knee beneath the table hard enough to jostle the bowl of fruit at the center while Ramble circled a spoon in their tea, studying Avery with a closed expression.

Cricket hated it. She hated that anyone could make Avery feel bad for what they had done. Hated that anyone, even her cousin, could take away the joy and confidence she had seen blossoming in the girl and replace it with this cowering, frightened thing beside her. If there were any two persons Avery ought to have been comfortable around right now, it was Mac and Ramble, and yet they’d given them the silent treatment and sat them at the table as if they were children in need of scolding.

Cricket scowled at her cousin, opening her mouth to tell them exactly what she thought of this treatment when Ramble crossed their arms and scowled right back at her.

“I cannot believe this,” they stated. Cricket arched her neck, raising her chin. “Crick, your parents are beside themselves. The entire family was freaking out! They thought you were dead, and you have been here fucking Mac’s employee?”

“Whoa, Ramble.” Mac threw her hands out, frantically glancing between Ramble and Cricket. Avery stiffened, her knuckles blanching from her grip on the coffee cup. Her cheeks paled further, and Cricket saw red.

“Like you’re one to talk,” she lobbed across the table. “You wandered here to finger Mac a decade ago and never came home.”

“Okay, you two, that’s enough.” Mac rose and set her hands on the table, frowning when her wife shot her a mean glare.

“How can you be so calm?” They jerked their head at Avery, curls bouncing. “That cabin is destroyed; there was blood on the floor! You have been up all night looking for … for …” Ramble squinted at her. “I do not know your name.”

“Avery,” she whispered, eyes trained on the coffee. Her answer went unheard.

“All night,” Ramble repeated, lost in their tirade. “You called me in tears thinking some monster had eaten her, and she has been here with my cousin, who everyone at home thought was dead.”

“Ramble, sweetpea, I know you’re upset—”

“I am not upset; I am furious!” They slapped the table. Avery flinched, coffee sloshing over the sides of her cup. “Cricket, you put my wife in danger. Why did you not tell her that … that …” She glared at Avery and snorted. “I am sorry. Who are you?”

“Avery,” she whispered again. “Avery Payne.”

“Avery Payne.” Ramble blinked and straightened. Their ears perked, fixed on the human girl cowering in her chair. “As in Payne Strategies? The lobbying firm?” Avery nodded, her eyes tight and downcast. “Run by Nathan Payne, the rabid anti-inhumanist?” Ramble gaped at her, shock warring with fury. Avery’s cheeks paled even further, every freckle standing out like crumbs on parchment. “What are you doing here? How did you even get a job in this camp?”

“Babe,” Mac warned. Ramble shook their head in disbelief, turning all of their anger on Mac.

“What is she doing here?” Their voice pitched high and frantic. “Mac, what were you thinking?”

“She’s a good kid.”

“I’m only six years younger than you,” Avery muttered.

“And she’s great with the campers,” Mac argued, then reconsidered. “Well, she’s getting better, even if she did take my advice a little too literally.” This was paired with a glance at Cricket.

“Oh, my god.” Avery buried her face in her hands.

“Mac,” Ramble warned.

“It was my dad, alright?” Mac flushed and threw up her hands in defeat. Avery jerked her face up, mouth hanging slack. “He said he owed someone a favor in DC, and asked me to consider her application.”

“Mac.”

“You hired me because your dad told you to?” Avery glared across the table, her lower lip trembling and eyes shining bright.

“No!” Mac pressed her hands in the air. “I mean, I interviewed you as a favor, but I hired you because—”

“I threw away a fellowship with the Boston Symphony for this!”

“I’m so confused,” Cricket muttered.

“So am I.” Her cousin flopped into their chair, rubbing their temples. “Mainly as to why my loving wife hired an Anti-inhuman Specist to work in her integrated camp.” They dropped their hands and glared at Avery.

“Excue me, I am not my father,” she fumed. Bright red splotches grew on her cheeks, and those pale blue eyes blazed.

“Avery—” Mac held up one hand, halting Avery, and gripped her wife’s arm with the other. “Let me.”

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