telling you what to do?”
“Because I knew I had a choice the whole time. I could have said no, and he would have been okay with that. Your turn.”
“He said it would help you.”
“In what way?”
“To be less angry.” He studied me for a moment. “You still look at me with anger.”
“You still look at me like you own me.”
He shared a look with one of the fey carrying something from the house. The fey grunted in their caveman communication way and kept walking.
“I know I do not own you, Brenna,” Thallirin said.
“Right.” I let a heavy and obvious amount of doubt lace that single word.
Rather than trying to point out where his actions failed to support his statement, I went back to the vehicles, glad the rest of the group had joined us and we could leave.
However, arriving at Tenacity only served to remind me that my day was far from over. The majority of the fey were once again covered in infected goo, and the clean ones were avoiding eye contact.
“Tor,” Richard called. “Get Brenna home, will you? She can start sorting the supplies as they come in.” And just like that, Richard was my hero because one of the fey came jogging over.
I hurriedly removed my bow so I didn’t break another one, but the precaution proved unnecessary. The new-to-me fey smiled good-naturedly and asked if he could carry me before he bent to pick me up and settled me against his bare chest. That he didn’t act like I was an infected two seconds from biting him or cast continuous longing glances my way was a nice change. Not nice enough to strike up a conversation, but still nice.
Safely in his arms, I made the journey home in minutes and was at the storage shed as the supplies started trickling in. I wasn’t alone, though. Julie was there, teaching me the ropes and chatting away.
She was easy to like and kept me distracted from Thallirin’s quiet presence just inside the doorway.
“That’s the last of it,” she said with her hands on her hips. We looked at the shelves. Over half of them held items again.
“Go ahead and fill up two totes with whatever your family needs.”
I shook my head.
“We’re good for now. But, I really like knowing I can come in here at any time and grab something if we need it.”
She smiled at me.
“The door’s never locked. Thank you for going out today and for everything you do. You and your family help make Tolerance a better place.”
With those words, everything about today clicked.
“Mya told you.”
Julie’s smile softened.
“Of course she did, sweetie. She’s my daughter and is worried that you hate her. But that’s her problem, not yours. You were right to speak up for yourself. Don’t ever stop.”
She gave my arm a comforting squeeze then turned me toward the door, which was now empty.
“Go on. I’m sure your mom’s waiting.”
I left the supply shed with a positive attitude, sure that my day couldn’t possibly get any better. Well, getting through to Thallirin would make it better, but I was content with the wins so far.
That changed the minute I walked into my house and the scent of pepperoni pizza punched me in the face.
“No fucking way,” I yelled.
Mom laughed from the kitchen.
“Yes, fucking way,” she said. “And watch your mouth. The last pepperoni pizza on the face of the planet is no reason to swear.”
I tore out of my clothes and bolted for the kitchen. Not one, but three pizzas waited on the table. Both mom and Zach were grinning at my expression.
I looked at Zach.
“Was this you?”
“Who else? If I'm going into those houses, I'm taking what I want out.”
I sat down with a smile and glanced at Uan, who remained quiet.
“This is the best,” I said. “You’re going to love it.”
He looked at the pizza, his gaze doubtful.
Zach and I reached for a piece at the same time. I was the first one to take a bite and groaned. Never in a million years did I think I’d taste cheese and pepperoni again. Uan took a slice after Mom took two. From the corner of my eye, I watched him take a bite, chew it slowly, and set the pizza back on his plate. I could tell from his expression he wanted to spit it out.
Grinning, I swallowed quickly and stole his piece.
“You know what? If you don't like it, that's okay. It just means more pizza for us. Help yourself to