Page 77 of Freeing Hook

Peter’s eyes narrow. Less in anger, more in curiosity. “And why is that?”

“Because that which we desire the most is rarely the thing that would bring us the most happiness in the end. The two simply aren’t compatible.”

“And you’re better suited to decide what would make her the happiest?”

I consider this a moment before answering. “I wouldn’t have feelings of being in love muddying my reasoning. So, logically, yes. I do think I’d be better suited than her at figuring out what would make her the happiest. But it goes both ways. She’d be better than me at making decisions for me, too.”

Again, Tink’s face flashes across my mind. Somehow, I doubt Tink is who Wendy would pick for me to be spending so much time with.

“It must be difficult living in your head,” says Peter.

“Remind me: is difficulty inherently bad?”

Peter actually smirks, conceding the point.

Before he leaves, he turns back around.

“Yes?” I say.

“Could you…” Peter pauses. “Would you mind telling me what she was like? Before Neverland, I mean.”

“Didn’t you visit her nightly when she was a child?” I practically spit.

Peter frowns. “My shadow form…it’s not quite me. It is, but I have difficulty retaining my memories from it. Even the memories I have…they’re not…from the lens of how I might have seen her.”

A shiver walks up my spine, but it might be the most honest thing I’ve ever heard Peter say.

“Do you want to hear about before you or after you?” I ask.

“I think both would do.”

“I don’t have many memories of her before she fell ill. She was only five, I was four. But I remember her being especially protective of me. I remember that our manor might as well have been an entire realm for the two of us to explore. People always thought she was quiet. Still do, I guess.”

“Wendy’s not quiet?” Peter asks, cocking his head to the side.

I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. “Not when she’s comfortable. She’ll talk your ear off if you manage to get close enough.”

Peter slides his hands into his pockets. “Did she keep secrets from you?”

The question catches me off guard. “Everyone keeps secrets.”

“Mmm,” says Peter. For a moment, I think we’re done, but then he stares out into the crashing white waves and says, “Something’s wrong. With you, I mean. You’re more sullen than normal.”

“I can’t see why you care,” I say, not particularly eager to share my disappointment in myself for letting Tink go.

Peter levels me with his icy blue stare. “I care about Wendy’s happiness. And you and Michael are intricately intertwined with that.”

I stare at him. “But you wish we weren’t.”

Peter offers me a sly smile. “Don’t group your brother in the same category as yourself.”

I huff. “At least you’re honest.”

“And you’re hiding something.”

My back goes rigid.

Peter nods toward my hands. “They’ve been shaking.”

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