Honestly, the green color was the least of our worries.
Embarrassment floods my cheeks as the others all make faces. “It’s bad,” I say.
“It’s really—” Ryatt jolts mid-sentence, and he scowls across the table at Slade. “Good,” he finishes before looking at me. “It’s really good.”
“Really?”
Judd and Lu nod their heads in unison, but I notice they’re still chewing.
Beside me, Slade swallows. It’s a testament to how sticky the slop really is, because I can hear the struggle of his throat to get it down.
“Try the eggs?” I say helpfully.
“Mm-hmm,” he replies, and everyone watches him scoop up a giant spoonful and stuff it into his mouth, their eyes widening slightly like he’s doing some amazing feat.
I let out a sigh and set my fork down. “Okay, you can all stop pretending for my sake.”
“Thank fuck,” Judd says, just as he spits out his bite into the cloth napkin at his place setting. “My tongue is so confused right now.”
Lu smirks. “I’ve heard women give you that very same critique.”
Judd tosses his napkin at her, but she somehow bats it away with her fork before it can land on her.
I clear my throat. “I should probably confess that I don’t actually know how to cook…”
Ryatt snorts. “You think?”
“Right. Who wants wine?”
Everyone speaks up immediately, and I rush up to go grab the wine bottle from the kitchen counter when I feel my back twinge painfully.
I freeze.
My breath hitches.
And agony, glowing and hot, pours down my thoughts and scalds its way down my back.
This hurts me a lot more than it hurts you.
You caused this.
You did this to yourself.
I can’t I can’t I can’t
Goddess, please…
My eyes squeeze shut as I force myself to breathe through the pain. I won’t think of it. I won’t. I slam up another wall. Barricading it high, blocking every bit of misery notched in my back.
“Auren?” Slade asks quietly.
I snap my eyes open, realizing that I’ve halted with only one leg slung over the bench, so I paste that awful smile back on my face. “Stubbed my toe,” I lie before I swing my other leg over—carefully this time—and move to the counter.
With my back toward the table, I let out a shaky breath, thankful that no one can see my face. The pain twinges and prods, like it’s trying to fish through the very depths of me, but that’s exactly the last place I want to feel.
I give myself one more strained breath before I turn back around, bottle in hand. Somehow, Lu has already brought cups to the table, setting the last two down in front of her and Judd as I unstop the cork and start to pour. It’s not nearly enough for all of us, especially since I helped myself earlier, but it’s something.
Yet even with the distraction of the food, my careful mood is threatening to tip. I’m up on the point of a blade, trying not to fall and cut myself open, but I know I can’t keep upright forever, no matter how stiffly I sit at this table.
Beside me, Slade is tense too, and the others are watching me, though they try not to be obvious about it. I grab my cup, holding it tightly, staring at the deep red color.
“Auren.”
“Not tonight,” I say without looking at him as I take a drink.
I’m not ready. I need more time. Not tonight.
I hold those words against my chest like a beggar’s coins, clutching at them because I know they’ll offer me the tiniest reprieve for a little while, until I’m empty-handed once again. “Tonight, I just want this.”
When I glance back up at the now quiet table, no one is pretending not to look at me, and I hold my breath with anxiousness until Judd jumps up. “Well, alright then,” he says with a nod. “We’re going to need more wine.”
He lopes over to the pantry and comes out carrying two more bottles along with some bread and jam he found. “Something a bit more edible,” he says with a wink as he sets everything down.
I let out a shaky laugh, relaxing when they all start to drink and talk and eat, relaxing even more when I join in.
And for a while, that’s all there is. That’s all that matters. I clutch my words and stay balanced on the blade, and for now, it works. For now, I don’t have to reflect or process or talk. I don’t have to face anything real.
For now.
CHAPTER 16
AUREN
I don’t wake up so much as a hammer slams against my skull so hard that it knocks me into consciousness against my will.