Page 12 of Prince of Ruin

I feel like, after practically forcing him to talk about his parents, I kind of owe him. So I open up about mine.

“I get along with my mom. They had me when they were still young, before they met my dad.”

Aden nods slowly. “And your dad?”

“Yeah, we get along, but he doesn’t really get me. I haven’t come out to him.” I side-eye Aden. “I’m gay. He has no idea. But my mom knows. Mom doesn’t really care.”

His brows arch. “And they’re not telling your dad?”

“I mean. They have a weird relationship. But my dad is pretty strict and I guess Mom wants to protect me from that.” I chew the inside of my cheek. “But, I mean, he’d never kick me out. Even though he’s strict, he has a playful side filled with incurable dad jokes and boyish mischief.”

It’s for that reason, when I saw him nearly plunge that iron rod into the cosplayer’s costume, something deflated inside me. Because I have never seen Dad act violently. He’s protective of his world, yes, but that prankster didn’t appear to pose any sort of threat, and yet, Dad showed no mercy, nearly destroying the person merely because they didn’t give him the information he wanted.

I glance at Aden. I wonder if I can get him to fess up. Telling him about my dad will either make himadmit that he and his partner are up to mischief with our haunted house, or scare the shit out of him. Chances are, if Aden is just passing through, I’ll never see him again. So, what harm could the truth do? “My dad thinks he’s a demon hunter.”

Both Aden’s brows shoot up. “Awhatnow?”

I swallow hard. Usually, I find humor in telling people this sort of shit, but now people are taking this joke too far. And Aden might be behind the pranks.

“My dad believes our house is built on some sort of…portal between the living and the dead. Hell, more specifically.”

Aden studies me with a guarded expression, as if he thinks I’m pulling his leg. “And you believe him?”

“Fuck no. I mean, I pretend to. Because he’ll go batshit if I don’t.” I stifle a smile at my own pun.Batshit.God, I am losing it. “But, no. While my dad is a die-hard catholic, I don’t really buy into demons and hell and…all that mythology.”

He shrugs and bites his lower lip, and holy hell, what I would give to taste those lips. “Do you buy into…any mythology?”

I tilt my head, wondering where he’s going with this. “Like…what kind? Ghosts?”

“I don’t know. Faeries?”

I snort. “Like Tinkerbell?”

His cheeks turn red. “No. Like in those books we read, with the fae.”

A smile eases on my face at the reminder that we read the same books.

“It’s fun to fantasize about it.” I shrug. “But can you imagine if any of it was real?” I chuckle as we approach the food truck. “We wouldn’t last one day in the fae realms.”

Aden orders two massive turkey legs and two beers from the food truck, paying for all of it, then turns and offers me a turkey leg and a beer. My heart warms as I take them.

“Thank you.”

He casually sinks his white teeth into the tender meat, as if he eats massive turkey legs every day.

“Holy hell this is good,” he says around that bite before taking a second, larger bite, ripping the meat off the bone. I nibble at my own turkey leg, the salt and spices creating an explosion of flavors in my mouth. Okay. I get it. This is fucking delicious.

We finish off the turkey legs and beer as we make our way to the jousting, then spend the rest of the evening watching the knights put on a performance of gallantry and comedy. But Aden’s mind seems far away from what’s going on in front of us. He’s not really cheering for any of the victors, unless I cheer first, then it’ll pull him back to the present and he’llwhoop and holler along with me before that faraway look returns to his eyes.

I keep waiting for a “gotcha” moment, or for his partner to come storming up and clock me across the jaw. But so far, everything seems pretty…normal. Aden gives me little snippets into his life, but it’s clear he doesn’t like talking about his past, so I don’t press it. We stay on safe topics, like books, where I learn that he is endlessly falling for the villain (that checks out) while I’m more into the cinnamon roll type heroes (again, on brand).

It blows my mind that his parents couldn’t love Aden for who he is. He’s a fucking phenomenal fiddle player. He’s so…real.Probably the kindest and most genuine guy I’ve ever met. To the point that I’m not sure I deserve him. And I know for a fact that prick from earlier doesn’t deserve him.

Which means Aden could be in an abusive relationship. I sip the last of my beer while studying him out of the corner of my eye. The light from the setting sun dances off his blond locks, setting off the length of his eyelashes. It’d be too easy for a controlling asshole like Bambi to take advantage of someone as sweet at Aden. My stomach tightens, a strange urge to protect Aden at all costs coming over me.

Once the tournament is over, they offer horse rides on the massive Friesians for ten dollars. I offer topay this time, and Aden and I both climb the stair steps onto the horse’s back, Aden settling behind me. Resting his head on my back as he faces the sunset, he wraps his arms around my waist. The gentle pressure of his forearms on my ribcage makes something warm bloom in the pit of my stomach. This must be what it felt like in the Middle Ages to be a knight returning home with his damsel. Though Aden is no damsel. He’s more like…a troubadour.

I don’t know what it is about Aden that draws me in. He’s easy to be with, I guess. He draws me in the way a golden retriever draws people to it simply by wagging its tail and looking adorable. There’s something real and genuine about him, something that tells me I don’t have to put up a front or act around him. I can just be my ADHD, book-porn-loving nerdy self.

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