“I know Thanksgiving is soon,” she says, “and I doubt you can get back here in time, but I do expect you home for Christmas.”
“I’ll be there.”
“You should bring Roark with you. He was so polite and I’d love to actually have a chance to visit with him.”
The damn freak frost didn’t just hit Iowa. My entire body seizes. “Roark?”
“He stopped by the day after you went home. He promised he’d come back to visit some other time. He felt horrible about missing the weekend.” She mistakes my stunned silence. “Don’t be embarrassed, Finny. He’s a handsome man and your father and I can understand your interest in him. But, while you were here, your father did have the talk with you, didn’t he?”
“Oh my God.”
“He said he did.”
“Oh my God.”
“Fine, forget I asked. I just want to make sure you’re being smart about this.” She tries to soothe my ego a bit more, unaware that my mind is light-years away, and finally makes her goodbyes.
I hang up with her in a daze.
I left the farm on a Monday. Roark showed up on Tuesday. Wednesday, a freak frost left the price of soybeans skyrocketing, just in time for my parents to cash in and save the farm.
He was just here. I saw him. Yelled at him, accused him of not caring, and he took it. He could have defended himself and he didn’t. Didn’t even mention what he’d done.
Roark saved my home.
I have to fix this.
Chapter Twenty-One
Roark
“You should come with us to Orkney,” Edward says, taking another sip of nectar. “Donal and Niall wouldn’t mind. It would be like old times.”
I offer him a polite smile. Edward was one of my more skilled lovers, but there was little to tie us outside of the bedroom. Mother liked him. He’s the consummate politician. Think, Roark, he’d be a perfect partner for your position, she said when I finally told her I was ending it. The promise of political success wasn’t enough for me. Edward took my rejection with the same staid rationality with which he took everything.
Honestly, if I hadn’t met Smith, Edward and I probably would have worked out. But once I was living in that apartment, interacting with Smith daily, even if it was just us threatening to kill each other, I came to appreciate the volatility which exists in the non-fae. Three months in, I couldn’t stand it any longer and broke it off with Edward for good. I had more fun fighting with Smith than I ever did fucking Edward. And then, when Smith and I somehow became more... Goddess, I’ll never be able to accept anything else. Anyone else.
Dressed in my Court uniform, the cell phone I hid in my interior jacket pocket burns against my skin, begging me to slip away and write a text I know I’d regret the moment I sent it. This morning, Smith was crystal clear about his feelings toward me. He needs me to explain myself. I don’t know if I can bear that, not with all the mistakes I’ve made. Besides, how would I even start to apologize for everything I’ve done? And if he accepted that apology, would there be a point to a reconciliation when I’m days away from assuming the Knight’s mantle? How is that fair to him?
It’s better this way. Better for him to hate me and move on. I did the right thing by keeping silent.
“Roark,” Edward says, trying to regain my attention.
“Hmm?”
“You seem distracted.”
Damn. Pull it together.
“No,” I lie, “just enjoying being home.”
Edward nods sagely. “Your mother’s missed you. Many of the courtiers have as well. You always managed to keep things...peaceful.”
Polite way of saying I balanced out my brothers’ wild ways.
“Are you taking a more permanent residence in the sídhe?”
“It would seem so.”