Page 67 of The Chosen Two

“Hey, where’d you get your clothes? You were in a sheet when last I saw you.”

“I went to the villa, took a shower, got dressed, and took my suitcase. See?” He indicates his roller bag on the floor on the other side of his legs.

“Oh, okay.”

“I didn’t know where your room is, and I wanted to get my stuff out of there.” He adds quickly, “No one else was in there.”

I nod. I’m glad he showered, honestly. I feel a little bit better knowing that the first thing he did with his freedom was scrub the goddess skank off of himself.

By the time we get to the front of the line and can finally order, I’m hungrier than I’ve ever been in my entire life. We both get double cheeseburgers and fries. I add some avocado to mine so I can pretend I’m getting nutrients. Jake adds bacon and charges our order to the villa. I think that’s a nice touch. Once we’re in possession of our food, we find a table and silently scarf down our respective meals.

He, of course, spills ketchup on his T-shirt. When I have smooshed avocado on the corner of my mouth, he reaches over and wipes it away for me with his napkin. It almost feels normal. I mean, aside from the exhaustion I’m feeling deep in my bones, coupled with the fact that my body feels like it’s been run over by a combine, then scooped up, threshed, and dumped back out through the ass end of the same piece of machinery.

When we’ve cleaned our trays and our table, we walk to the elevator for the Palace tower, holding hands. The doors close behind us, leaving us truly alone for the first time since the car ride. He hits the emergency stop and turns to me.

“Okay. So, what is going on?” He’s not angry. He’s just…Jake.

I take a deep breath before beginning. I fidget a lot while I explain. “There’s a lot, but the short version? It’s my birthright to be something called a Guardian, which basically means that I’m the quintessential Chosen One. Don’t laugh; I did enough of that for the both of us…trust me. And I’m supposed to protect humanity from all these creatures that people think are just myths and stories, but really people’s beliefs brought them all to life. But, I’m obviously not the quintessential Chosen One. I’m me. And I wonder how the fuck I’m not going to get myself killed every time I see anything supernatural.”

To his credit, he doesn’t laugh. Or freak out. He just looks off and nods for a few moments. “It makes sense that it’s you.”

“I’m sorry, what?” My mouth hangs open at his response.

“You’re the most maternal and protective person I have ever met. It makes sense to me that your fierce mama bear instinct is from something even bigger.” His eyes are locked on mine. I never want to not look into his eyes again, but I am also deeply uncomfortable taking compliments, and this was a big one. He actually has confidence in me. I feel my heart unclench from a tension I didn’t recognize was even gripping it. Maybe I can do this. After a couple more seconds Jake clears his throat and looks away. “ So, who’s the kid?” Of course, he still needs to learn about George.

“He’s not a kid. He’s twenty-four.”

Jake lifts one eyebrow.

I roll my eyes. “Whatever. George is my docent, my trainer. Well, technically his father was supposed to be, but he died three years ago. And because all had been quiet for so long on the mythical creatures front, the last Guardian hit the ripe old age of sixty. Then the powers that be decided I should be called to duty since she probably wouldn’t be able to fight much off without breaking herself at this point. Not that I’m in any better condition…”

He looks up, his lips mouthing the words “docent” and “creatures”. “Okay, I think I got all of that. And the muses kidnapped me because…?”

“They figured you must be pretty damn special and a real tiger in the sack if you managed to snag a Guardian…since there’s never been a married Guardian before.” I smile at him. It’s an obviously fake smile, because how am I supposed to smile? I’m super nauseated again and feel my lip start to curl in disgust.

Jake doesn’t smile at all. “But, they were wrong. You’re the special one, Miranda. You’ve always been. You know that, right? I’ve always known that and even if you’ve never seen that before, you have to now.”

My smile fades the rest of the way as I continue, “They hoped your love making would imbue them with some extra powers or influence or something.”

Jake’s eyes open in surprise. “Well, that’s gross.” He takes my hands and makes sure I’m looking into his eyes. “Miranda, none of this was your fault. They were just a bunch of crazy psychos.”

While I was explaining, I’d placed myself into a literal corner of the elevator. As he leans toward me and reaches his arm around my waist, my breath catches, my nerves are still a little raw, and I’ve missed him so much. Jake again presses the emergency stop button behind me to disengage it. Then he looks into my eyes and smiles sweetly as the elevator continues its ascent.

Chapter 28

Miranda

Sunday,wetakeamorning flight home. We are still exhausted and mostly silent on our way through Harry Reid International. I almost thank god when George doesn’t have full-sized toiletries in his suitcase this time, but given everything we just endured, I’d rather not give any more power to any gods. By the time we touch down at Newark Airport, Jake and I are able to interact in a fairly usual way.

Jake and George are also getting along the slightest bit better. Jake isn’t quite ready to invite George to a family barbecue, but they’re at least able to ride in a car together without making me gag on their mutual disgust for each other.

George drops us off in the afternoon and immediately drives away. To anyone watching, he was our Uber driver.

We stand outside the door for a moment and brace ourselves for seeing the kids, before we’ve had a chance to work through anything that we’ve each experienced over the last few weeks. Then we go in.

We still expect the kids to behave like they did when they were tiny, running up with unbridled excitement, unable to contain their happiness now that we’re home. But all four are in a heated video game race, and they barely notice when we come in to the room. No one responds with so much as a hello when we gave the requisite, “Kids, we’re home!” call upon entry. We find Eliza in the kitchen, doing dishes and listening to a podcast from her favorite author.

“Ah! You’re home! How are you guys?” She shuts the water, dries her hands, and then pauses her phone before running over to hug us. I wince when she squeezes me.

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