Page 23 of Synced to Us

Wyn answers over his shoulder, my bags rolling along behind him. “Welcome to my hometown.”

I’m starting to rethink my whole packing my entire designer closet strategy, but I had no idea what I was walking into—and still don’t. “So this is the place where Nocturne Court was born.”

Wyn’s shoulders slope, the muscular ridges of his upper back flexing and releasing beneath his thin jacket. “The very one.”

“Didn’t it start out of your garage?”

“Kinda. We gigged out of Mason’s garage, too. Basically, anywhere with no parents.”

I squint at his back, again wondering about his childhood. “I’m meeting your mom, right?”

“And my brother and sister-in-law, yeah, as well as their energetic spawn.”

I gulp. “Kids?”

“Two-year-old twins, to be exact. Love them or they’ll kill you.” Wyn chuckles, but a cube of ice grows in my belly.

I’ve avoided families most of my life, and now I’m staying for the weekend with a complete unit. As a fake fiancée.

Another swallow follows my first.

“Brad’s picking us up,” Wyn explains once we reach the stairs to street level. His voice has gone noticeably flat.

Wyn checks his phone, and then grunts, seeming to confirm something. “We can head on down.”

He gestures for me to take the lead, but I pause on the top step. “Can I touch this rail?”

The somber expression shadowing his face breaks apart, and he grins. “Noticed my horrified expression in the subway station, did you?”

“Well, in case you’re about to sweep me off my feet again, I’d like to be prepared.”

“Not this time,” he says, still chuckling. “You’ve reached population three thousand. There aren’t enough unknown spores to give me concern.”

A swift wave of disappointment follows his words. I won’t admit it, but I can think of worse things than being lifted like I’m weightless, and then nestling into a hard, muscular, warm body as he carries me though a crowd.

My heels spike against concrete as I descend. Not wanting to seem like a complete, unprepared burden, I pull one of the luggage bags behind me, its clomp down each step following my clacks.

“In case you haven’t heard, Thicketville, Dee Sparrow has arrived.”

I send Wyn a dry look over my shoulder.

Once we hit the street, Wyn scans the narrow roadway. “There he is.” Wyn gestures with his chin.

A lean, well-dressed man leans against a dark gray pickup truck within Wyn’s line of sight, scrolling through his phone. Wyn’s long strides quickly overtake mine, and I stroll behind him, taking note of the thick patches of green grass and tall, lush trees bordering the small train station.

Well, Dee, it looks like you’re not in the city, anymore.

Two streetlamps guide our path and a malfunctioning sign of a convenience store across the street flickers its last sparks of life. It’s silent, not even drifting horns from cars in nearby streets to add to the atmosphere. At nine in the evening, I’d expect some traffic, like last minute commuters heading home, but the road sits deserted. This man’s pickup is one of two cars idling at the curb.

“Hey, dude.” Wyn offers up a quick wave.

The man who must be Brad drops his phone to the side. “If it isn’t our weary rock star. I was starting to think you’d conveniently forgotten your roots. Guess it takes losing everything to want to show your face in bumkiss-ville again, huh?”

I can’t see Wyn’s expression, but I doubt it’s amiable when he responds, “It’s only been a month, and nothing stops you and Ma from visiting me in the city.”

“Bah. Who needs all that pollution and garbage filling up my kids’ lungs?”

Brad reaches out a hand, which Wyn takes, and then pulls him in for a clap on the back. It looks more like a hiker hugging a bear. The image brings a shocked smile to my face as I keep a polite distance. After Brad’s initial “joking” comment, I thought they were about to come to blows.

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