Page 178 of Bride of Choice

“When Jo come back?” His voice was soft, quiet, like he was expecting me to say never.

“I don’t… I don’t know,” I admitted.

With one last nuzzle to my hair, he set me on my feet. “Need prepare. Big hunts come.” He sounded like he was talking through gravel, his voice gone rough and deep.

Turning without another word, he left as quickly as he’d popped in.

Slumping down atop a hay bale, I scrubbed my hands down my face. Why did I feel like that one was kinda on me? I’d all but crapped on the olive branch he’d been offering.

Grimacing, sitting up, I brushed the straw off of me and walked back to the house, ready to say my good-byes and thank yous for the meal, and make my exit.

I needed some time to myself, time to think. There was a lot to unpack and I was just packing it all down instead of dealing with any of it.

What better time for some self-reflection than when the males were rotating their hunts.

With Odix, Gopher, and Rek on the rolling roster for this stuff, I was bound to find a minute alone to myself, right?

Chapter 24

As if to grant me my wish in a very large go fudge yourself kind of capacity, I had so much free time as Boog was finally called home, Gopher and Odix prepared for the upcoming hunt on the horizon, and Rek flat out pretended I didn’t exist, he was that pissed at me, I didn’t know what to do with myself after chores were done.

My sleep schedule was all screwed up. I had my days and nights mixed, dragging ass through the day to crash and hard nap right after washing up from chores, then stay up all night regretting every fucking word that’s ever left my mouth as I dissected my past transgressions and missteps all night long. Fun times.

Sleeping after dark all alone in my place was still a trying thing for me.

When the Sandman did deign to call and I found myself starting to doze off, the only thing I’d found to combat that, short of crawling into bed with someone else, was to climb under my bed, purse clutched to me, sheathed knife in hand, and have myself a little under the bed slumber party.

It wasn’t ideal, or healthy— I should probably open up to someone about it— but knowing that might potentially create its own cascade sort of effect, I’d opted to deal with this on my own. If I told Rosa, she’d worry. Somehow along the way, letting Rosa have her happily forever fucking after without me shitting all over it, more than I already felt I had with my Rek shenanigans, had become more important to me than I’d possibly even realized, to the point I was kind of feeling like I was living a double life. Accepting I took this same approach with any other relationships as well, that double life was more like living quadruple lives simultaneously.

I knew, at the heart of it all, that pesky Negative Nelly in my head was to blame for it. Even as I pushed boundaries, seeking just how far I could nip and nag, how long someone was willing to keep me around, I kept all the real things I was afraid might push them away to myself, the broken parts of me I withheld or hid, I was protecting myself from them as much as I was protecting them from those broken pieces of me, if that made any fucking sense. Self-preservation as much as it was protecting my loved ones from ugly parts of me that might make them reconsider having such a pain in the ass of a person to deal with in their lives.

Seated by the fire, I pulled out the basket with my sewing things stashed away inside, and got to work with the hemming first.

There was a peacefulness to the sudden bout of solitude, isolating as it could be.

A curse left me as the bone needle I was working with snapped in half.

Searching out another and coming up empty, it took me a minute to work out what day it was, I was so discombobulated, then try and recall if anyone who would actually trade me sweets for bone needles would be roaming around the market place this day.

Needing the fresh air, I stowed my things away and bundled up for the cold.

If it turned out a bust, I could say I got in a good walk today, all things considered.

Gopher and Odix had yet to return for this proposed biweekly wick dipping they’d come up with. I was game, though the necessity of it felt moot with Rek giving me the cold shoulder, but I wasn’t about to ask them to come over and fill ‘er up. It was just… I couldn’t. Call me silly, the bold Joanie was feeling shy about it, but that’s exactly what had me hesitating.

That, and a heaping helping of guilt.

I wanted to understand Rek’s reasons for his actions, and while a smidge of me could, the scheming part of me, what he’d tried to do to me was fucking wrong, plain and simple. Bulldozing me was never going to work, or make us suddenly work.

Basket full of the last few treats to my name over my arm, purse on my shoulder, beanie tugged down tight over my ears, mittens on, I set out.

I didn’t think I’d ever get used to walking the market without Gopher. I’d always think of it as our thing.

The place was bustling, filled with vendors today. Apparently I didn’t get the memo.

Bypassing those I knew would snub me because I didn’t have a man— I had to roll my eyes at that rubbish— I made a beeline for the old Lo denaii couple that traveled from a village they’d told Gopher wasn’t too far from here. Mom and Pop, I called them. Mom was the first female adult Lo denaii I’d laid eyes on. She was as tall and robust as her male, with a curvy waist, long eye lashes to make a bitch jealous, and a surprisingly sweet disposition.

“Mom! Pop!” I called out, pleased as punch to see them.

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