Page 40 of The Pushy Pixies Are Going Down
We were early. Really early.
But I’d been a fidgety, pacing mess since I woke up at seven this morning—I hadn’t even been able to really sleep in, dammit—and Miles had asked what he could do to help. I’d said cominghere early, scoping the place out, and finding a table to settle at would help.
I wasn’t sure it actually had, though.
Sola stayed home with Odin. I felt bad that we didn’t bring her, but Miles thought her presence would draw a lot of attention to us—it would because how often did someone see a firebird up close, let alone one on someone’s shoulder?—and he knew I wouldn’t want eyes on us for this.
He was so thoughtful.
Miles reached over and grabbed my hands that were shredding a napkin into itty bitty pieces. “It’s going to be okay.”
I blew out a breath and faced him, leaving my hands under his gloved one. Sometimes I wished we could be skin-to-skin, but he never took his gloves off in public. I couldn’t blame him. They were his shield, his armor. I was glad he’d found something to make him feel comfortable around people. And I was used to the leather against my skin. Honestly, even that was a comfort simply because it was him.
I said, “What if it isn’t? What if she’s coming here to tell me I’m a disgrace to the family, or that I should change my last name, or that I should leave the state and forget they all exist?”
His eyes darkened. “Is that what they said to you before?”
I shrugged. “Yeah.” And that wasn’t even the really bad shit my family had yelled at me.
“If she says anything like that, I’ll tell her to fuck off, throw my drink in her face, and we’ll leave.”
Picturing my sometimes shy, kind boyfriend—I loved being able to call him that—throwing a drink in someone’s face was funny and unlikely enough that I laughed. And then, because I couldn’t help myself, I leaned over to kiss his cheek.
To my surprise, before I could reach his cheek, he turned his head and pecked my lips, making me smile. So I gave him a second peck, then kissed his cheek before sitting up. His cheekswere flushed, but he looked happy. Warm. Like my affection was a comfort to him, and that made me warm inside too because his affection was exactly that.
“Hey, Winter,” a soft voice said, a voice I hadn’t ever expected to hear again.
I turned to find my sister standing at the table, and I couldn’t help but clutch Miles’s hand. I was probably squeezing tight enough to hurt, but he held on tightly and didn’t try to pull away. He was my lifeline. My rock. The only thing holding me together and keeping me solid. Keeping me from breaking into a million pieces.
I took her in. Her hair was as blonde as mine—almost white—but her eyes were the same as our father’s, brown with a ring of gold. Her features were similar to mine to the point that people thought we were fraternal twins when we were growing up, even though she was a year younger than me. She was wearing dark blue jeans and a purple blouse that looked like it floated around her collar and the short sleeves.
She had a tattoo on her forearm that hadn’t been there before—a pixie, of all things.
Why would she want a tattoo of a pixie? She’d never shown interest in faeries when she was a kid. So very random.
At least it wasn’t a gnome or a dwarf.
It had been thirteen years since I’d last seen her, and I could see the time written in the lines of her face. She had small lines beside her eyes and creases on either side of her mouth, both signs of a life filled with laughter.
A life without me, but still filled with goodness.
That made me feel… some kind of way, but I didn’t want to think about it anymore, so I pushed it aside.
I wasn’t sure how to react. Part of me wanted to be happy—part of mewashappy—to see her, but there was so much hurt and grief mixed in that I was a jumble of emotions and anxiety.
Miles squeezed my hand again, and I took a breath, glancing at him for strength. He sent me an encouraging smile, and I knew that no matter what happened here today, I’d have him in my corner. He’d hold me up when I was ready to fall down, he’d hold me together if I was shattering, and if I was happy, well, he’d help me celebrate that too.
Clearing my throat, I glanced up at Magnolia and said, “Hey, Maggie.”
Her eyes filled with tears, and she sent me a shaky smile. “Hey, Win. Can I…” She cleared her throat and wiped at her tears, catching one before it rolled down her cheek. “Can I sit down with you?”
I nodded, swallowing around the rock in my throat, afraid to speak less I lost it and started sobbing.
I didn’t want to let myself be happy with seeing her until I knew exactly why she was here, why she wanted to see me after all these years.
Why she never reached out before now.
When I’d been released from prison, I’d been so hurt that none of my siblings had visited me there, but I’d thought they’d been worried about going to the prison itself. I’d thought that maybe now that I was out, they’d want to see me.
