Page 164 of Bride of Choice

“Want him’s Jo. Hard be ‘round,” Booger blurted, staring down at me worriedly.

I understood that worry, all too well. I felt like that inside as I tossed out advice to misguided furballs and then learned them something with some Mr. Darcy-scale failings, hoping they got the picture.

“I’m not asking for anything from him,” I murmured, before I’d thought better of it.

“Him know,” Booger rumbled out softly.

Blowing out a long breath, I forced down the pain certain emotions rubbing along the surface created, and with it the pain right between my eyes that was sure to lead to a literal headache. “It’s hard,” I confessed, frowning as some of that shit I try to keep hidden, to myself, slipped through.

“Be ‘kayed, Joansie,” Boog rumbled out reassuringly. “Time. All worked out.” A thick mitt came down on my shoulder and he gave it a comforting squeeze.

“I don’t know what the hell to do if it doesn’t.” Biting at the inside of my cheek, I glanced up. “Does this mean you’re going to hang up your late night creeper hat?” I teased, gently bumping into my companion as we walked.

“Boog has choice?” he paused to ask, making me laugh.

“No.” A grin tugged at the corners of my mouth. “I’d think with the whole heavy hunting season coming up, you’d be prepping some shit for you and your Pumpkin boo to make use of.”

“What… what’s if she no comes ‘round, like Jo say, and Khri go? What then?” he mumbled worriedly.

“Then she’ll have to make do by herself, with check-ins from me, Rosa when she can, and Ms. Dorothy.” Grinning, I nudged him. “I heard Daisy shit herself hearing Rosa and I did a bangin’ job teaching her the ropes.” Another nudge. “Those refresher sesh’s from you really came in handy.” Wiping imaginary sweat from my brow, I grinned. “It was like cramming for a test.” With a withering look and a sniff, I admitted with all the haughtiness of a queen, “Do you know how much of that shit I actually do not do?”

“Joansie not have mates,” he pointed out. “Just Jojo. No babies runs after, wash, wash, wash clothes, feeds everyone. Jojoknee ‘lone.”

My smile fell. I felt like he’d just yanked the rug out from under me. I mean, I knew this was my existence, this weird limbo, but it hit different having your close friend so casually toss it out there. He wasn’t wrong— half the shit that went on around here was largely in part to do with the care and feeding of your family grouping. I had none of that.

Forcing a smile, I tossed him a wink. “Well, ya know, I’m kind of a hard sell. This ship of bachelorettedom refuses to sink.”

“Joansie happy?” Boog asked, catching me off guard.

“Pfft.” My hand lifted and I waved it about. “Am I happy? I’m happy you’re calling me Joansie,” I quipped.

When he continued to stare down at me, askance, essentially calling me on my bullshit, I rolled my eyes.

Was I happy?

A small laugh that sounded slightly hysterical spluttered out of me. “Sweet cheeks, I’m so happy I could go roll around in the mud over it.”

“No know that mean,” Boog admitted with a frown.

“Don’t you just ever,” I mocked cooed as I bid him farewell and made a hasty retreat.

When I’d put a fair bit of distance between us, I slipped between the nearest set of huts to lean against the side of one. My head slowly clapped to the plaster covered looking side of the hut I was leaned back against and I sighed and closed my eyes.

That building pain between my eyes was back. I knew what that was, squeezing my eyes shut tighter. More than anything, I wanted to pretend it wasn’t there, looming, threatening to send my eyes watering and stuffing up my nose.

Ugh. I hated this shit.

Gaining my composure, I popped out from my hiding spot and set out down the path.

Making it back to my hut in one piece, I changed into my warm pajamas and made myself some tea. Nibbling on a few berries and a piece of bread, wondering why I’d yet to make myself some damn jam, I was all set to crawl into bed with a cozy book, beat out the night to catch a few winks once daylight hit and all those nighttime fears that still plagued me being all alone like this left, when the handle of my door rattled.

Scrambling for my purse, spilling my tea all over the front of my pajama shirt, I yelped, jerking my shirt from my person as hot liquid splashed my chest.

“Jojo opens or Rek breaks down door!” the half feral, anal, walking rug demanded from the other side.

Throwing the door open, I shouted, “Are you mental?!”

“You up. Good,” he muttered, walking right in like he had any right to, to slam the door closed and lock it behind him.

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