Loving Ean (The Fae Guard Book 2) (24 page)

She gives me a sympathetic smile that is covering a cryptic look. “It hasn’t been the right time. Getting over him isn’t something I can help you with, Laila, and I know you’re cognizant of that. So, I’m going to vocalize what you already know deep down and are refusing to acknowledge. It’s your job to take back your heart and prepare to give it to someone else. Fated or not. Not all fated couples fall in love, it doesn’t work like that, which means the possibility of falling for someone else is there whether your soul is tethered to Ean’s or not.” The sympathy in her eyes gives way to exasperation, “He moved out, right?” she asks.

“Yes.” He moved in with Brannon a few days after Aden and Shaylee had returned. Logically, I knew he was doing it for me as much as himself; trying to minimize our contact because every time we met in the building, outside of training, it set us back a step in our bid to move forward. But, I was a little hurt at the idea that he wanted to get away from me and my more irrational side was pissed that he was able to even think sensibly.

“So, stop moping and put your money where your mouth is. Go on a fucking date, woman,” Fate’s voice cuts into my musings. Once again, logic and irrational step out of their respective corners and start trying to beat the shit out of each other.

The front door slams open and a gaggle of female voices float back to the room we are in. We gather our cups and stand to join them, but as we walk down the hall, Fate stops and pins me with that principal look again. “I was serious, Laila. Stop stalling at the fork in the road and choose a fucking path to follow.”

She waits until I nod, then resumes walking to the kitchen, where the other girls are gathered. The crowd is big tonight because all of my siblings are still visiting, having returned to our city, Mivo, right after Aden and Shaylee’s wedding. They are spending some time with Mom and Dad before those who live in other areas of Rien return home.

My five sisters, well, six now with Shaylee, stand around chattering with Calista, Ailean, Hayleigh, and Nissa, and the sight brings a big smile to my face. This crowd is almost never together anymore and the joy filling the room seeps into me, excitement jumping in every nerve. I notice that the laughter is centered on Shaylee, so I join the group to see what’s so amusing. When I get a load of her t-shirt, my head flies back as laughter bursts from deep in my belly. Shaylee’s bump is just starting to grow and right over that spot on the purple top are bright pink words:
We are hoping it’s a unicorn.

“Seriously, girl. Where do you find these?” I choke out in between gasps as I try to refill my oxygen.

“Come on now,” she says with a wide grin. “I’ve got to take advantage of online shopping when I go visit my mom. We don’t have this stuff here.”

I smirk at her, “Just don’t buy a Van Halen t-shirt because I’ll have to ask you to take it off before you jinx the band and they break up.”

Shaylee tries to look offended but she can’t hold it and she ends up laughing instead. Then her eyes light up as if a proverbial lightbulb has turned on above her head. “Speaking of quoting
The Wedding Singer,
I almost forgot!” She grabs a blue, plastic shopping bag off of the counter and tosses it to me. “I found this and couldn’t resist!”

Inside the bag is a bright red shirt and when I hold it up and shake it out, I see black, cartoonish letters that say:
I speak fluent movie quotes.
This sets us off laughing all over again and I give Shaylee a quick hug. “Awesome, girl. Just awesome.”

We shuffle into the same room we always play poker or other activities in. Fate sets up the bar and I start to help her, first tossing my keys to my youngest sister, Ilona, “Youngest is the designated driver tonight, kid.” I smirk at her and wait for the inevitable—

“Shouldn’t the oldest be the responsible one?” And, there it is. I was fifty-four when Ilona was born and she uses our age difference whenever she feels it’s convenient.

“Nope,” I say with an exaggerated pop on the p. “R.H.I.P, little girl.” She glowers at me for the nickname, but her shoulders slump in acceptance, and she pouts as she walks toward a chair, dropping grumpily into the seat. Twenty-two going on seven.

Shaylee steps up next to me at the bar and raises her brow in question, “rhip?” she asks, curiously.

I grin at her. “Rank has its privileges.” Shaylee chuckles and nods her head in understanding.

“Sounds like something Aden would say.” Her words are laced with amusement and her eyes soften, like they do whenever she talks about Aden.

Before this can take a turn for the mushy, I give her a look that says,
duh,
and then quip, “Where do you think I learned it?”

Shaylee grabs a club soda and I grab the Mi El and coke (sort of like human rum and coke) that Fate expertly slides down the bar to me. Seriously, is there nothing this woman doesn’t do well?

Nope.
A snarky voice answers my silent question, in my head.

Well, thanks for that.

The pool table is open and Hayleigh catches my eye, her thumb jerking over her shoulder to point at it behind her. I salute my drink in agreement and start to wander over there as she sets up for a game. I’ve just stepped a few feet away when a hand on my arm bring me to a halt. I crane my neck to the right and see Shaylee hurriedly come up beside me.

“What’s up?”

“I have like total pregnancy fog lately and can’t seem to remember anything.” She waves her hand around her head, emphasizing her ostensibly malfunctioning brain. “I ran into Phin last night and he asked about you.” Her shoulders creep up a little and her face pinks with a sheepish half smile. “I know this is going to sound ridiculously juvenile, but I think he likes you.”

She’s right. It sounds juvenile, but so does the fact that I feel a spark of hopeful giddiness, like a sixteen-year-old waiting to be asked to the prom. Next, I’ll be handing him a pieces of paper with check boxes for him to admit if he “likes” me and drawing little hearts around his name. I inwardly slap myself across the face a couple of times to shock me back to reality before I accidentally ask, “Does he
like
me, or
like
me like me?”
That would be a stellar example of adulthood.

I try to formulate a response that is mature and sophisticated. “Do you think he likes me as in, wants to date me or he likes me as in, ‘I care about her as a friend, but have no interest in fucking her?” Inner me groans.
Using the word fuck doesn’t make this conversation any less immature.

Shaylee laughs ruefully at our teenage conversation, “I’m pretty sure it’s door number one. Anyway, I only brought it up because you’ve been moping around lately and I thought a date might be just the ticket.” Her words are almost exactly what Fate said to me.

Does
everyone
around here think I’ve been “moping” and need a date?
Apparently.

I grasp her hand and give it a squeeze. “Thanks, maybe you’re right.” She smiles brightly and walks with me over to the pool table where Hayleigh is chalking her cue tip impatiently.

Hayleigh invites Shaylee to play, but she shakes her head and perches on a nearby stool to watch. We make some mild conversation but our attention is really on the girls sitting around the poker table, specifically my gossipy little sisters. I swear, they are all responsible adults most of the time, it’s just when they get together that they regress into adolescents.

We found out about three weeks ago that Calista and Callum were in a relationship. The two of them together is such an odd picture, but it’s also pretty damn cute. My sisters have obviously heard about it because they are pumping Calista for information and are sorely disappointed with the results. The thing is; Calista is a badass, completely self-assured, and totally intimidating. Don’t get me wrong, she’s got a really fun and engaging side, but if you want something that she isn’t willing to give, just give up now.

Which is exactly what my sisters do. One of them brings up Kendrix and I stifle a laugh, anticipating what they are going to say and planning on sharing a good laugh with him over it. Shaylee and Hayleigh have a sparkle in their eyes as well, and their lips are mashed shut, presumably keeping in their enjoyment at this scene also. Standing on the far side of the pool table, I notice Ailean and Nissa lose their battle to stay composed every once in a while, and I hear a barely audible snicker from one or both of them. Calista stands and turns toward us, making her way over to our little group. She sees our suppressed amusement and rolls her eyes dramatically. Once she’s propped up on a stool by Shaylee, Hayleigh and I return to the game, still eavesdropping as we play.

The girls start extolling on Kendrix’s virtues from his earring, to his smile, to his “ass so tight you could bounce a quarter off of it.” I silently admonish them for their lack of creativity; they could’ve come up with something more original than that.

Fate has dealt and is studying her cards with a closed mouth smile that grows every once in a while and I know she’s listening too. Unexpectedly, Gelsey (yes, another sister) pointedly asks Fate, “Kendrix isn’t fated, right? Or at least, he hasn’t found her yet, right?”

Something about that questions stirs a memory, but I can’t quite grasp it. Fate’s eyes widen just the tiniest bit, the movement so small that I only just catch it because I am studying her so closely. That’s an odd reaction. A memory surfaces and then retreats so swiftly that I’m not able to discern anything. I take my eyes off of Fate and notice that Hayleigh is wearing the same expression of confusion, I’m sure is on my face as well. Her emerald orbs meet mine and she cocks her head in soundless inquiry. I shrug, no closer to the answers behind the just out of reach memory.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and swivel my head to see Calista standing close. “There’s something—something I can’t quite grasp that is familiar about this conversation,” she whispers.

“Me too. I—” The rest of my answer is cut short when I hear Naida (only two more!) ask, “If he’s not, I’d totally be first in line to fuck him.”

The memory slams into me and I slap my hand over my mouth. Holy fucking shit! All three of the women around the pool table swing their gazes to me. Hayleigh had moved over by Calista to take a shot, so I’m able to address them both when I mouth
fuck buddy.

Just as I expected, their jaws practically thump on the ground. We were all pretty wasted that night, but I remember Fate mistaking Brannon for Kendrix. Then the next morning, I mentioned Kendrix, and she firmly corrected me, making sure I knew it was Brannon.

Speechless, we wait with our full attention on Fate to see how she will respond. Any semblance of a smile has been wiped from her face and she is wearing an expressionless mask. “That’s not for me to tell you. You’ll have to ask Kendrix.” Well, damn. Her reply effectively takes the wind out of my sails. I was hoping for a little more information but I should have known better. Fate has mastered the non-answer, answer. “Are we going to play, or what?” She quickly gathers the cards and starts shuffling them, before dealing once again.

It’s pretty clear that we aren’t going to get anything else from her, so I turn my attention back to the game. Shaylee is perched on her stool with her elbows on her knees and her chin propped on her fists. She’s looking between the three of us, probably trying to decipher what it was that shell shocked us. Calista returns to her seat, leans over, and begins whispering. Shaylee’s jaw locks and her lips press together, while her eyes start to dance with mirth.

Her eyes meet mine and I grin from ear to ear, making her bring her fists to her mouth, pressing tight to keep herself from laughing. Hayleigh wisely starts a new conversation to get our minds off this new revelation, and to keep us from dissolving into giggles.

I AM SO DAMN
tired, I can barely stand. I’ve been doing consistent double duty, spending more time with my charges and the rest of it with the Ohtar. Stumbling into my room in Brannon’s house, I crash down on the bed and can’t find the energy to even remove my shoes before I fall asleep.

Five minutes later, a pounding on my door jerks me out of my slumber and I sit up in bed, staring around wildly for the threat. Oh, it’s Brannon calling me through my door. I get up, grumbling about stupid, insensitive assholes and throw open the door.