Page 84 of Lost Girl

"I don't know." Skepticism drips off my tone as I hold her stare. I may be willing to stand here and hold this conversation with her, but that doesn’t mean I trust her.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Wendy. I swear on my mother. I couldn't if I tried, either. The Lost Boys will undoubtedly follow us for your protection."

The fact that she felt the need to voice such things only solidifies my hesitations, but she has a point.

"Where is it?" I ask.

"By the lake.”

"Lost Lake?"

Tinksley hums in response, leaving me in a minor state of confusion. "We were just there. Tavi didn't mention anything about it."

Then again, I was too busy shoving him into the lake for him to mention much of anything.

"He probably just didn't want to stir unpleasant thoughts."

"True." Inhaling a deep breath, I brace myself for what could happen when I move from this spot. When I’m calm enough,I close the distance between us, stopping nothing more than a few feet away. "I’ll tell you what: I'll go with you, but I want a truce,” I demand, holding my hand out.

Tinksley steals a peek at my offering, then sweeps those tropical irises back up to my face and places her palm in mine. "That's more than I was expecting, so yes, truce."

A shake of our hands and then we’re off, falling in step beside one another. Last time we took a little walk, I ended up on the plank. The horrid memories threaten to spill free from their little box in the back of mind, but I will them at bay, reminding myself—as I reminded Tinksley just minutes ago—that it’s all in the past.

We don’t share much on the way to the lake, but it doesn’t bother me. It’s not like I have much to share with her anyway. At least the silence isn’t uncomfortable. She leads and I follow, absorbing our surroundings, as always. The skies are still gloomy after the downpour, the fresh scent of rain hanging thick in the air, but the melodious sound of birds chirping high in the trees promises sunshine is on the way.

"Well, this was him.” She points upwards soon after passing the clearing.

I crane my head back to take it all in, completely awed by what I'm seeing, especially when the dock isn’t so far behind us. How the hell I missed this, I’ll never understand.

It's a literal tree house.

Thick wooden steps wrap around a large trunk, the very top connecting to a small bridge that leads to the house itself, all of it surrounded by trees.

"It's magical," I breathe.

"It was at one point in time, but I can't look at it without cringing now. Haven't brought myself to go inside, either," she confesses.

"Let's go in then. Get him out of our systems forever."

Tinksley scoffs amusedly and shakes her head. "I don't think that's how it works, little Wen—er, sorry, Wendy, but we can hope, right?"

"Yes, we can.” Small smile in place, I motion for her to lead the way up.

She obliges with a smile of her own and starts up the steps. I follow behind as silently as I did the whole way here and simply observe it all.

Up the steps.

Across the bridge.

A modest porch and a deep olive door.

Grabbing hold of the knob, Tinksley turns to me as she inhales a steadying breath. "Allow me to introduce you to the version of Peter I knew—the boy who never grew up."

The door opens and immediately all I can think iswow.It's all the more magical inside, filled with different woods and warm neutral colors. What I feel towards him doesn't extend to this moment. Much like the rest of Rosewood, I've never seen anything like it, only in story books.

"Pretty, isn't it?" Tinksley comments beside me.

"It is."

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