“Feeling guilty,” Folk confessed. “I thought I’d be around for him more when I left the forces, but it hasn’t panned out that way.”
“You’re not close?”
“I left when he was eight. Wasn’t here when he needed me the most. It’s hard not to feel like I chose war over him.”
“That how he feels?”
Folk shrugged. “He’s not a big fan of deep conversations. He stayed away when I first brought Seth and Ivy home though. As if he didn’t trust me to stick around long enough for him to love them.”
I knew that had changed. Ivy talked aboutUncle Poand the mad tractor rides he took her on all the time. But it was a rare day Folk needed me to tell him anything and today wasn’t one of them.
We lapsed into a companionable quiet. I felt like I could sleep, if not for the fear that this would be the night I’d break my run of not sleepwalking since Locke had escaped Priest, and I knew I had to before we rode home. Didn’t know where, though. Like most of the last twenty-four hours, I was a passenger.
Folk, though, he was fucking psychic. Taking my empty mug, he swapped it for a key. “There’s a cabin over that way, through the orchards. Locke knows it. Light a fire and get some sleep, brother. I’ll find you when it’s time to go.”
He rose, squeezed my shoulder, and went back inside.
I stood too, flexing my leg, gritting my teeth at the stiffness there. Harry, my friendly physio, had warned me against long rides in the cold, but I couldn’t have been anywhere else right now, and the longing in my heart for Locke returned tenfold. With the key in my hand, I glanced through the nearest window, catching him in the act of unfolding his extra-long frame from his seat at the Whitlock table.
Locke rubbed his back, his grimace one that I felt all the way to my titanium bones, but his phone distracted him, buzzing with the same rhythm as mine, a notification from the group chat that deliberately excluded the unmanageable Elders.
Embry:Saint’s home
I relaxed a little. Part of me wished he’d stayed and come to this magical place with us, but in my heart, I’d never change that brother.
Not for anything.
I clicked out of the message thread as another text buzzed through. A different group chat, one that made my heart skip with the happiness that was so fucking close.
Orla. She’d sent a photo of an empty plate resting on her big belly.
I started to smile as another message popped up. Then a full-on grin split my face.
A smirk.
Orla:I don’t expect you two home until you’ve found somewhere magical to fuck each other’s brains out. Don’t let me down xx
God. Damn.
I glanced through the window in the same moment Locke blinked away from that scorching text.
He met my gaze with a hot stare of his own and inclined his head to the door, the message as clear as if he’d growled it in my ear with his deep, deep voice.
You heard our queen. Let’s go.
* * *
Locke emerged from the house and grabbed my hand without saying a word. He towed me off the porch and onto the crunchy grass, leading me to the thicker woodland that shielded the house from the sea.
With the key Folk had passed me burning a hole in my pocket, I didn’t ask where we were going. Just enjoyed the view of his scruffy profile and crinkly grin. His hand so warm in mine. Locke was everything I’d never known I needed. The only thing missing was Orla, but it didn’t feel that way. She’d taught me to cherish these moments with Locke as much as the ones we spent all together, and I’d become quite the fucking expert.
Deep in the woods, we came to a clearing and a wooden cabin Saint really would’ve loved. A simple build of two rooms and a panoramic window that looked out over the ocean in the near distance.
The log burner was already lit. I moved to the window and took in another healing view. “This is nice.”
Locke moved in behind me, sliding his arms around my waist, easing me back to lean on him, taking some weight from my sore leg. “It’s Folk’s. Built it when he was twelve. Think Poet still sleeps here when he’s not in the mood for the house.”
“What about you?”