Total pages in book: 254
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 240032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1200(@200wpm)___ 960(@250wpm)___ 800(@300wpm)
“Are there a lot? I know of this one because of you and your cousin, and one in Kansas that I can think of, but that was because I was eavesdropping on a conversation outside my trailer. They weren’t saying good things about it.”
“If it’s the one I know of, the people running it are idiots, and it’s a miracle they’re still around,” he replied. “There aren’t a lot of communities. Only a handful around the same size; there are more that are smaller. Mostly extended family units. Streets in small towns where every neighbor is magical.”
“I know about streets like that.” Like where home had been. The whole street had been magical—not that anyone ran around in their other form or anything, but more than a few times, someone’s “big dog” had gotten loose and been spotted. We’d had a lot of Irish wolfhounds that made rare but special appearances at night.
Wolfhounds. Whoever had come up with that excuse was clever. “Your family really left all this land to you?” I asked him.
Henri nodded. “My father’s family, yes. My—Matti’s dad relinquished his rights.”
Something told me he probably wouldn’t appreciate having that conversation out loud in front of so many nosey people. I moved on. “How do you afford the property taxes?”
This man looked me right in the eye as he answered, “With money.”
I slumped forward, forehead hovering over the table, and started laughing. “Who are you?”
The faintest, tiniest little smile crossed that grave mouth when I peeked up at him.
I was in the middle of doing that—watching his serious mouth fighting a smirk—when Shiloh’s mom returned. She set my milkshake down first and then the glass of water. “Do you know what you want to order?” she asked, her body language back to being uncomfortable. Maybe nervous.
The point was, she wasn’t at ease. Whether it was me or Henri, I had no idea. She had gotten really startled that other day when he’d raised his voice. I’d had my bracelet on when we’d met, and it was back on now, but… dang it, I was going to need to get this conversation over with as soon as possible. Today, if I could. There was no reason for me to put this stuff off. I didn’t want to tiptoe for the rest of my life.
I held the menu out. “A BLT with fries, please.”
“Sure.” Phoebe smiled almost shyly at Henri. “Your usual?”
“I’d appreciate it,” he answered, back to using his softer tone.
“I’ll be back with your orders.” Her voice was low before retreating, and I wondered if that was how she usually spoke when she wasn’t on the verge of strangling her child for making reckless decisions that put him in jeopardy.
I wrapped my hand around my opposite wrist where my bracelet sat. “Henri, is she usually nervous around everyone, or is it me?”
He took a sip of his water, and I wondered if he was picking his words or if he was just thirsty. “Both, I think.”
That helped.
He tilted his head to the side, raising one of his hands up to slide over the short ends of the hair above his ear. “She moved here before Shiloh was born. I don’t know what her situation was like before, but I’ve met enough satyrs to know most of them are skittish.”
He had a point.
“People are scared of what they don’t understand on the best of terms.” I smiled, half in resignation and half in acceptance of a universal truth. “I went out on an offshore fishing trip once, and we were able to jump into the ocean, a hundred miles from shore, and I was scared the whole time. I didn’t know what else was in the water, under my feet. Imagine sleeping next to someone that all your instincts tell you is a danger.”
“That’s never made sense, why people waste their time being scared of things they can’t control. Isn’t it worse knowing something is coming and you can’t do anything about it?”
I stopped in the middle of peeling the wrapper off my straw.
He took another sip of his water.
“I’ve never thought about it like that.” I balled up the paper and set my straw into the glass. “Scary is scary, I guess, regardless of whether you can see it or you can’t. If it’s logical or not. Maybe the only thing you can do is learn to manage the things that you fear. You know? Break them down. Reason them out if you can.” I thought about it some more. “But there’s some stuff that no amount of reasoning will make more bearable.” I took a sip and raised my eyebrows in surprise. Ooh, it was good.
I looked around the diner one more time. The waitresses, including Phoebe, were behind the counter. Some of them were doing a crappy job at being discreet as they peeked at us. Or attempted to listen in to our conversation.