Page 192 of Magic of the Damned

When I finally lifted my gaze to meet hers, I’d shored up the ability to not crumble.

“I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t. This doesn’t give you a reason to consider letting me come back, but the situation was unavoidable. You’re the last person I’d knowingly disappoint, and I hope you know that.” What I’d practiced was better, and I hadn’t anticipated my voice breaking and the amount of emotion it held. I loved my job. This was one of the few jobs where the owner said we were a family, and it was true.

The longer she took to respond, eyes narrowed with uncertainty, searching my face for more, I knew the further she was from approving my return.

“Okay,” she said finally. “But it’s a trial for now. I’ll put you on the schedule, but if this happens again, I won’t entertain speaking with you again.”

She stood and I followed. A half smile curled her lips. “Now Emoni can get back to normal. She’s surprisingly mellow when she’s worried. The customers were concerned.”

I was sticking with the belief in pretty privilege. Her snark was amusing and cute because it came from a person who made extra money from her looks.

“I’m happy to be back.” Rocking back and forth, the hug-urge was strong. Cameron was the first to initiate it. I welcomed her typical genuinely warm embrace.

One less issue weighed on me as I put the pieces of my life back together bit by bit.

Next on my list was to have the needed conversation with Forest to update him. In the two weeks since my return, he’d visited once and never discussed what I’d revealed to him, although I could tell he was still curious. Anytime he seemed like he was gearing up to ask questions, I redirected him. I’d become exceptionally skilled at it because of my conversations with Emoni. She had a dangerous combination of fascination and revulsion with the supernatural world, which made forgetting about it, or even losing interest in it, impossible. She watched people differently, blazing curiosity and inquisition toward everyone she encountered. That was her trying to determine if they were human or a clandestine supernatural. I had to constantly remind her that staring and unyielding scrutiny bordered on creepy. Over the past few days, it had diminished, but she remained hyperaware of everyone and the possibility of them not being human.

During my last visit with Forest, he insisted, “The next time we meet, we’re going to discuss everything you’ve been avoiding telling me. I want to know it all.” There was no room for debate or refusal. And I didn’t want that out. He deserved to have answers.

It was his idea to meet at the creamery. I guessed navigating the truth about supernaturals was easier while scarfing down his favorite flavor: mint chocolate. Waiting for me in front of the ice-cream shop, he was attentively scraping the last bit of ice cream from a small cup.

He accompanied me into the shop. I left with a small waffle cone. He had a large bowl of mint chocolate.

“I’m not sharing,” he announced, giving my single scoop cone a derisory look.

“We’ll see,” I teased, following him outside. We decided to walk instead of sitting at one of the tables where our conversation could be overheard.

The farther we walked, the deeper we fell into seemingly benign conversations that made Forest fidgety while he geared up for our actual conversation. A spirited curiosity played over all the angles of his face, and there was a strain in his voice as he struggled to tamp it down and not rush his questioning.

“Thank you for not freaking out when you couldn’t reach me. You deserved better, and I’m sorry,” I said, giving him a segue. I’d returned home to several missed messages and texts from him.

“I didn’t have a lot of choice. When we spoke, you seemed so confident and capable of navigating things. So, I tried not to worry.”

“I did?”

He nodded. “Yeah, you did. And you had Emoni and her knife skills.” He laughed. I joined him in it. It died down with his heavy sigh. “What happened?”

I couldn’t help but be impressed by his unwavering composure as I provided him an unabridged version of everything that had occurred.

“Areleus was going to kill his wife!” he blurted, his steps coming to an abrupt halt. His eyes pivoted to me. Some of the color had drained from his cheeks, and his lips were parted in shock.

I corrected him with, “They aren’t married.”

“That’s better!”

“No. Their world is different. Darker. Complex. It’s shocking, but in the context of their world, not terribly unexpected.”

“Seems like a reason for you to stay away from Dominic,” he offered in a concern-laden tone.

When I didn’t respond, he moved in front of me. Forest’s expectant look pleaded for an answer. My silence withered his expression into worry. “Luna?”

“I want to, but I love him. I don’t have magic and I have no relevance in their world.”

“Can you be irrelevant when you’re dealing with Dominic and his new position? Whether or not you accept it, you will indirectly be a part of that world if you’re with him.”

“I’m not part of that world, just his.”

The worry creases relaxed and he huffed out an exasperated breath. “That’s semantics, Luna. But if you make me worry about you again, I will have to make you end that relationship.”

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