Page 75 of Home to the Hollow

I grin, shaking my head. “Not people, love. I have an entire building of friends I’d like you to meet. We were too worried about you to take a tour after the drugging. I’d like to introduce you to—well, not a hobby, but a passion of mine. Are you game?”

Her face lights up as if I’ve asked her to adopt a barrel of adorable puppies. “Iabsolutelywant to! You’re always so reserved outside of the bedroom, McSteamy. I can’t wait to learn more about what makes you tick.”

Holy fuck. Why didn’t I do this earlier? I’m an idiot.

* * *

My magpie walksthrough the large aviary with wide eyes and coos of joy as she greets every bird. She asks about their species, where I got them, and what makes them special. I’ve had no one take such an intense interest in my clan, and it’s making my stomach flutter with happiness. Wolfie always helps me feed them and even clean, but he’s not fascinated by every feather and fowl I house.

Jolene is. She’s like a kid in a candy store, and she lets them land on her hands, shoulders, and head as much as they please, even giggling when some of the bigger species try to groom her. I should have known by the way she is with Eurayle, but I assumed her fondness was because that companion chose her. Now I realize that our girl simply adores animals of all kinds, and she seems to have a knack for getting them to trust her.

I wish that was a clue to her nature, but it isn’t. Quite a few common species of supes have animal affinities, and even more rare types bond with non-humans easily.

For now, I’m going to enjoy watching her chitter and play with my babies. This little side quest was exactly what I needed to quell my worries about where I stand with my magpie.

If she can charm my aviary, she can charm my inner fellow, guaranteed.

Timber

The adults-only Homecoming party at the Speakeasy is in full swing.

Henry is slinging drinks like nobody’s business. The exhausted staff of WHFS are unwinding from weeks of floats, court elections, student infighting, angry parents, and inter-school rivalry. Every single teacher and administrator has withstood outrage and wrath over pranks and hair pulling—both literal and figurative.

“Nice job, Boone! Our boys took those Rebels downtown tonight,” says the shop teacher.

I haven’t bothered to learn his name, and I feel bad about that, but most of the teachers have sided with my choir of detractors. It hasn’t made for a lot of friendly relations with my colleagues. I eat lunch in my classroom and use the staff lounge to prepare copies when everyone has left for the day. When I was young, alienation from the surrounding people would have made me sad and lonely, but now I have support.

Or I did.

Jekyll butts my hand with his head as if he heard my thoughts, and I hear a laugh across the room that makes me smile. Presley and Wolfie have the rest of the pack over at our usual booth, holding court over a group of people from work who won’t talk to me most days. I watch Teddy chat with the weasly auto repair guy. His stubbled jaw stretched as he takes his praise and back slaps with a grin.

Grabbing my bourbon, I toss it back, letting the burn warm my insides. It’s my fourth—no, fifth—since we arrived. The haze of alcohol is soothing the sharp edges from the past month.

Despite the efforts of my lovers, I’m feeling the pinch of being berated by students, dismissed by parents, and abandoned by my best friend. I still don’t know why Wolfie is so enamored with the mysterious chick who stole my only confidant, and I’m no closer to figuring out what the hell any of the shit in the trunk means. While Teddy’s team is a success, the school is victorious, and those closest to me are celebrating, I’m an utter failure.

I sit the rocks glass on the bar, shooing Jekyll back to the crowd as I walk towards the door. A little fresh air might help my morose attitude. I don’t want to ruin the night for my sexy Coach or drag down my doc sandwich by telling them how low I’ve been feeling. They deserve a night of fun, especially because they’ve been working so hard.

Teddy’s been practicing with the team every free second to earn this win. The sheikh has had Wolfie focused on Mehdi at the farm, as his visit seems to stretch on forever. Presley has had a parade of young patients, waking him at all hours of the day and night with some bacterial infection that’s making them act insane.

That’s why I haven’t told them about the problems at the school or my studio. They’ve been working so hard, and my petty grievances with my friend or colleagues aren’t worth whining about. Besides, I don’t want them—or anyone—to feel sorry for me.

I just want things to go back to normal.

Walking out into the crisp fall air, I wonder how such a picturesque town can be so full of hidden pitfalls and venom. The quaint street, gas lamp streetlights, and cobblestones would make a visitor think this is the perfect little American town full of happy, friendly people with matching lives. But like everything else in the world, the gorgeous outer layer hides an insidious rot underneath.

Apparently, I’m a morose idiot when I don’t get laid often enough because of scheduling conflicts.

A wry chuckle escapes my lips as I walk down the street, studying the storefronts absently. The silly names don’t phase me anymore, so I pass by without a thought until I come to the space with the blacked-out windows. No one has ever mentioned what this place is or why it remains empty in such a prime location. I wonder why it’s here and who owns it. Like so many things I’ve seen or heard since I moved home, it’s an unspoken mystery.

“Evenin’ Tíogair. Out for a wee constitutional? Where’s your entourage?”

The lilting voice echoes out of the alley between the blacked-out window space andBound Together. A plume of spicy scented smoke leads me into the shadows of the small access area, and when my eyes finally adjust, I see my grocery store leprechaun smirking as he leans against the bricks. He’s staring at me with an intense emerald stare I could swear is glowing in the dim light.

“Did anyone ever tell you it’s creepy as fuck to lurk in dark alleys?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I’m sure they have, lass. It’s not a day ending in ‘y’ if someone hadn’t scolded me at least once. Pity for them; I enjoy it.”

A throaty chuckle escapes before I can stop it, and I toss my hair over my shoulder. “Ah, I see. Naughty boy doing bad things for attention. Well, you’re not the first, and definitely not the best I’ve known…” I let my sentence trail because he never gave me his name.

---