Page 115 of The Rut in the Road

I thought about this. “I mean, I’m not happy aboutthis.” I waved my good hand at myself and the little curtained alcove. “And I’m fairly certain he isn’t, either.”

“No, probably not,” Ward agreed. “And Mason definitely isn’t. But I meant with each other—not with our current… situation.”

I wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. “I think so,” I said, finally. “I like talking to him about things like books and movies, and he’s trying to explain cricket to me, although I don’t understand that at all, but I still kind of like trying.” I frowned. “I assume he likes the same things, since he keeps doing them.” I also definitely liked the sexy parts of our relationship, but I wasn’t going to say that to my boss, even if he was also a friend.

“So you’re happy?” he asked.

I grimaced. “What’s happy?” I responded. “I’m not sure I even know what that is.”

Ward looked startled. “I—” He blew out a long breath. “As stupid as it sounds,” he continued. “You’ll know when you are. No one is happy all the time, obviously. And even in a good relationship, you’re going to have arguments, disagreements, that shit. Some of them small, about what to have for dinner or at what point you’re going to let the kids try peanut butter.” I had the feeling that last one was probably not an arbitrary example. “But some of them will be about big and important things,” he said softly. “Like whether or not you should take on certain jobs and what ‘acceptable risk’ means—and doesn’t.” He sighed again. “And how that changes when you have kids—not thatyouhave kids,” he acknowledged. “Obviously. But I think the part about risk and danger might still be relevant.”

I nodded. “Yes. It—” It felt a little bit like I was betraying a confidence, talking about it with someone who wasn’t Raj. “He’sprotective,” I finished, even though there was so much more I could say.

Ward smiled. “Yeah, when they’re like a foot taller than you and can bench you with their eyes closed, they tend to think you’re a delicate, fragile little flower,” he replied with a sardonic smile that might have qualified as a smirk. “Magic can make up for a lot, though,” he continued. “And you shouldn’t let him forget that.”

I met Ward’s eyes squarely. “Even if I killed that driver?” I asked him.

Ward’s gaze never wavered. “I’m sure it’ll come back as a myocardial infarction,” he replied.

“A what?”

“Heart attack, basically,” came the response.

“But—” I started to object, then fell silent when he looked at me, and I realized that he’d understood perfectly well what I’d told him, and he was telling me that I shouldn’t accept responsibility for it. And, probably, that I shouldn’t tell anyone else, either.

I hadn’t told Vi, because I knew she’d have made athingout of it, even if she wouldn’t have been upset or angry. I didn’t always understand my sister, particularly when it came to magic. The more I understood about traditional warlocks—like Vi, but unlike Ward—the less I liked them.

While Violette wasn’t a violent or sadistic person, she was impressed by power more than skill, although she was impressed by that, too. And she often thought second about the consequences of magic use, rather than weighing them first. I’m sure she would have justified what I’d done as killing someone who was intent on killing me and the people around me—and that was how I was justifying it to myself, too, because it was true—but she would have been more impressed and less horrified than I was comfortable with.

I didn’t really blame her for that. The fact that she’d come out of my parents’ household—the people who thought that the solution to their child being a witch was to lock him in a fake asylum and have his magic forcibly stripped from him for his entire life—and still had any empathy for other people was a testament to her character. It just had a few rusty places that still needed to be polished away.

Not that mine was any better.

The curtain moved again, much more slowly, this time, and Vi came in, carrying two bags of food. “Um. I borrowed the truck again,” she said, sounding a little chagrined. “Because there wasn’t anywhere to get food here, but I figured food was important…” She trailed off.

Ward smiled at her. “What did you get?” he asked.

“Oh! Um. Bagel breakfast sandwiches. There’s a bacon, egg, and cheese for Rayn,” she pulled it out and handed me the wrapped bundle, which was still warm. “And a vegetarian sausage and cream cheese for you,” she continued, handing Ward another bundle. His smile got wider, probably because she remembered he couldn’t have eggs or meat. “And I got ham and egg and cheese,” she set hers on the end of the bed because there wasn’t a table in here. “And then little hash brown things for everybody.” We each then got a small warm box. She peered into the bag. “I got ketchup packets, too, if anybody wants them. And a few hot sauces.”

We all settled in to eat, passing around the bag full of condiment packets, stacks of napkins, and trying to talk about anything except what had happened the night before.

“So, um, tonight,” Vi finally said.

Ward grimaced. “I have to talk to Mason before we make any actual decisions,” he replied. “But I have the distinct feeling he’s not going to be willing to stay home again.”

“Tomorrow’s another private house party, though,” I objected. “Nobody’s going to protest at that.”

Ward nodded. “I know, but we can only push them so far.”

“Them?” Vi asked.

Ward rolled his eyes. “The very large men who feel distinctly responsible for our safety,” he replied. “No, nobody is going to protest the extremely high-end house party that we are slated to work tomorrow. And nobody is going to protest the haunted lock-in at the historic plantation, either, since that’s also very high-end and invitation-only.” That was Beck’s gig. “But Mason isn’t going to be willing to let me out of his sight for a while, I don’t think, so I’m guessing you two get to do the haunted house.” He made a face. “Sorry.”

“A haunted house soundsawesome,” Vi said excitedly.

Ward shot me a glance. “Probably not for Rayn,” he replied. “Given that he will be able to see the actual haunting happening.”

“Oh.” Violette’s eyes were very wide. “I—forgot about that part.” She looked over at me. “Is that okay? Will that be okay?”