the least. Unsettling. Must be palpable because from one moment to the next, he’s deepening the kiss, sliding his hands down the curves of my body to reel me in closer.
That does it. The spark ignites. Not at its usual caliber, but it’s there, billowing and licking through my limbs. To my heart. The space between my thighs.
“I’ve missed you,” I voice against his lips, unable to hold back the admission any longer.
“And I you,” he agrees.
“Then why have you stayed away?”
Peter shakes his head, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s unwilling to answer or because he doesn’t have an answer. Either way, his silence doesn’t help dampen the anxiety that’s been eating me alive since we arrived at this hellishly confusing fork in the road.
“Tell me, Peter. Please.” I hate begging, but I have to know.
We’re slipping further and further away, there’s no doubt about it, and I can’t bear the thought of losing him altogether.
Even if I know in my heart that both my subconscious and Hook are right.
I want things he seems incapable of giving me, envision a future that he doesn’t appear to want, and if I settle, I’ll only be hurting myself in the long run.
But I love him. More than anything...
“It’s nothing, Tinks. I’m just tired”—kiss—“Have been sleeping like pure and utter crap.”
“Why?” Kiss.
“The nightmares are back.”
No.
His confession practically turns me to stone. I still and snap my eyes open, searching his face. “The same ones?”
Peter nods slowly, his expression darkening. “Worse. They flash faster, the sounds are far more distorted. I… I can’t make sense of it.”
“Oh my God.” I throw my arms around this neck. “I’m sorry. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “Didn’t want to burden you, especially when I haven’t been coping well this go around. I’m an exhausted mess.”
“But you’re my mess,” I whisper, squeezing him tighter. “I love you no matter what, will always help you...as long as you let me.”
“I’m not sure I can be helped. If I can’t decipher them, how will anyone else?”
It hasn’t escaped me that he didn’t acknowledge or return the sentiment, but I push it aside and focus on the last bit. That’s what has me most worried. “Maybe we can go to Persia, have her dig through your mind and—”
“Persia won’t help me, T. You know that. No one here will,” he counters gruffly, turning his head away. “I’ll always be on my own.”
Wow.
That...hurts. A lot. My head nearly snaps off my neck because of it, a surging wave of anger briskly overriding the pain. “So what does that make me then?” I snap.
Peter’s eyes widen at my sudden change in temperament. He, of all people, knows how hard I strive to maintain this side of me in the shadows. I may show the world my markings more than my wings, but that doesn’t mean I want to tap into it all the way. That’s like playing with fire. Once the beast is triggered, it’s excruciatingly difficult to control.
And I don’t want to be like my father.
I’m not a leech. A soul-sucker.
Never will be if I can help it.
But right in this moment, after a blow like that, a vivid crimson is all I can see. Dark whispers of encouragement is all I hear.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Tinks. I’m just saying, I’ll always be an outcast. I could run into town on fire and no one would help.”
He isn’t helping his case.
“I’ll ask you again,” I grit, hands balling into fists. “What. Am. I? Do you not see me here, wanting with every single solitary fiber of my being to help you? Does that mean nothing to you?”
“T…I…”
“You what, Peter? What? Don’t want me to help you? Is that it?”
“No, it’s just…”
“It’s just what!”
Snap!
A twig, though there’s none around us.
The sound came from behind me.
Peter’s already glaring in that direction when I pivot around, searching the dense forest I ventured out from.
There’s nothing, just the silence that comes with the territory of Lost Lake.
Must’ve been a forest animal…
I spin back toward Peter, intent on carrying out the rest of our conversation, but my anger has waned significantly. The sudden intrusion obliterated it, reemerging that sense of hurt that came with the initial slap of his words. He holds my gaze like a vise, so steady I’m expecting him to say something, anything, to make this right.
But it never comes.
“Enjoy your cupcakes,” I tell him, desperate to get home.
It’s clear this is going nowhere for