Chapter Thirty-Seven

Frederick du Gateur, Gateur Garbage Disposal and Waste Management

Vince

I was surprised by how normal Crossbody’s house was as my car rounded a bend between the trees and it came into sight up ahead.

It was a decent size, but nowhere near the mega mansion I’d always pictured him living in. Maybe an old farmhouse, one that had been kept in excellent condition over the years, with an immaculate cream paint job and a dark-stained wraparound front porch that was crowded with potted plants.

I’d tried calling him a few more times on the drive, but his phone was still off. Seb had been right though—everything looked normal. Crossbody’s car was on the drive, and all the curtains but those in an upstairs window were open. There were no signs of someone breaking in, and when I got out of my car and hurried onto the porch to peer through the living room window, all the furniture still seemed to be in place. Nothing missing or broken in a struggle of some kind.

The TV was still on, playing a rerun of a human reality dating show. At the back of the room, there was an archway leading through to a bright and airy kitchen that looked spotless. And empty.

Jogging to the front door, I hammered my fist on it.

“Crossbody?” I shouted, my voice sounding particularly loud and rough with the panic that had been plaguing me for hours in the quiet surroundings. The house was ringed by woodland, and the only neighbour I’d passed on my way here had been a quarter mile back.

“It’s me,” I yelled when I heard no movement inside—no one coming down the stairs or shuffling through the front hall to answer the door.

Gritting my teeth, I tried the handle. Locked. Taking a couple steps back, I eyed the front door. It was solid wood. Nicely painted. Would it be a huge overreaction to kick it in? Would I even be able to?

Scrubbing my face, I hammered on the door again, then stepped back off the porch to look up at the house. Was that upstairs window with the curtains drawn his bedroom? Was he just asleep?

But he would’ve woken up from first Seb, then me pounding on his front door. He was a fae. His ears were a thousand times more sensitive than mine.

Spotting a side gate, I jogged toward it, fumbling with the latch until it swung open with a faint creak. I peered in through each window I passed, seeing an office or library of some kind in one, and then the kitchen in the other at the back of the house. There were some dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of half-eaten toast on the counter, but no other signs of life.

I found myself in a garden that was almost like a well-manicured jungle, teeming with ferns and flowers and bushes, an explosion of greens and pinks and blues and whites from the blooms bursting everywhere. There was a potting shed at the end next to a glass greenhouse, and the air felt warmer and heavier back here, like it was its own little ecosystem. A bumblebee flew lazily past my face, the air loud with the humming buzz of pollinators and crickets and birds chirping.

A pergola dripping with sweet-smelling flowers was positioned over the back door, which led into the kitchen. As I strode toward it, I saw a plump cat cleaning itself in a patch of sun on the kitchen floor. Its head jerked up as my shadow covered it, its face a little squashed and its white-grey fur looking soft and downy.

It stared at me, looking almost bored and extremely unimpressed, until I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. The cat hissed as I stepped inside, but didn’t move as it lay sprawled on the warm floor.

“Crossbody?” I called as I closed the door behind me, looking around. “It’s me. Uh, I’m in your house.”

There was no answer from anywhere in the house, so I walked into the hallway and took the stairs two at a time, peering around when I reached the landing. The bathroom directly ahead was empty, as were the two neatly decorated guest bedrooms. A third door led to what looked like a walk-in closet, the room smaller and lined with fitted wardrobes. The other door was closed.

I’d just started heading toward it when it cracked open, making my pulse leap. Then it was slowly pulled open wider, and my chest squeezed tight when I saw Crossbody.

He’d been crying. A lot. His eyes were red and puffy, lashes still wet and clumped together. His forehead and throat were splotchy, hair frizzy and unwashed. He was wearing an old shirt that was slipping off one shoulder and a pair of crumpled linen pants.

His mouth trembled when he saw me. My throat closing up, I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his neck, tugging him down to tuck his face against my throat as I cupped the back of his head. He smelled faintly of old sweat, like he hadn’t showered in a while.

“What’s wrong?” I asked roughly, my heart squeezing when I heard him take a shuddering breath as his arms came around me and clung on tight. “What’s happened?”

His voice was quiet and hoarse when he spoke, and it wobbled unsteadily like he was on the brink of crying again. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

I pulled back and cupped his face, my brow pulling hard into a frown. I was suddenly full of restless, redundant energy, wanting to destroy whoever or whatever had upset him.

“What’s wrong?” I repeated, swallowing when his chin wobbled and he blinked, fresh tears clinging to his long eyelashes.

“I have to leave.” He spoke in almost a whisper. My insides clenched up tight.

“What do you mean?” I asked, voice harsh.

He exhaled shakily and took a step back, wiping his cheeks. “I have to go back to Otherworld.”

I felt kind of sick. I already knew he didn’t mean a mere visit, because no matter how shitty his mom might have been, Crossbody was too calm and composed to react this strongly to an uncomfortable but brief trip to see his family. Which meant…

“For good?” I croaked.

He nodded, turning to walk back into the bedroom. I followed, my gaze sweeping quickly over the unmade and rumpled bed, the single stained-glass lamp illuminating the space, and the open suitcase on the floor, already half-filled with clothes. I spotted my black sweater on the top of the pile, and for a split second, I struggled to breathe.

“Why?” I asked weakly. “Has something happened?”

“My mother turned up here on Friday.” His voice was dull and lifeless now as he kept his head bent, pulling more clothes out of the dresser. “She said I have to go back.”

“Why?” I asked hoarsely.

“Because that’s what she wants.”

My hands clenched into fists. “Do you even want to?”

Crossbody shook his head, and I saw his chin trembling again. “No. But I have to.”

“Why?” I asked again, a sharp ache shooting through my chest.

“Because if I don’t, she’ll…” He sniffed wetly and wiped at his face again. “It’s just what she wants. And she always gets her way.”

“Stop packing,” I snapped, striding forward to take the clothes from him and dump them on the dresser. “If you don’t want to go, you’re not going. She can’t force you to move back there, Crossbody.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there with his head lowered and his hair hanging limp in his face. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I gently took his hands and turned him to face me.

“Please don’t go,” I heard myself croak. His face crumpled, fingers trembling against mine.

“I don’t want to,” he told me unsteadily. “I’m sorry for not answering the phone. I… Vince, there are things I want to say to you, but I…”

My heart was pounding. “Say them now.”

“There’s no point.” He tugged his hands free and rubbed his flushed, wet cheeks again, turning back to the dresser. His voice was wooden when he said, “I have to marry Ianthe.”

Something ugly and overwhelming surged through me, making my entire body stiffen. “Who the fuck is Ianthe?”

“The Summer Court princess,” he said dully. “I’ve only met her a few times. Barely spoken to her. But that’s who my mother’s decided I’m to marry.”

“Why the fuck does she get to decide that?”

“Because she’s the queen. And she wants me to produce heirs. My older brother can’t have children, so it’s my job.”

“Having children or getting married shouldn’t be a fucking job.”

“I know,” he said quietly, pulling more clothes out of the dresser. “But what I want doesn’t matter to her.”

“Crossbody, stop .” I tugged the clothes out of his hands again, panic making me a little light-headed. “She can’t force you to do any of that. You’re a fucking adult. You have a life here.”

His breath shuddered out of him. “But I won’t have one if I don’t do it. So there’s no point staying.”

“What do you mean?” I asked roughly. “What does that mean?”

“She came to tell me that she’ll take everything from me if I don’t go back.”

Anger made me start to shake. “Did she threaten you?”

He shuddered. “Not just me. Goliaths, too. Holt. All of you.” Looking up at me with big, tearful eyes, he shook his head as his mouth trembled. “I’m not going to let her do anything to you, Vince, so it’s safest if I just go. That’s why I haven’t come in.”

I exhaled slowly and scrubbed at my face, trying to calm down enough to think. Crossbody was too worked up to think rationally right now. Clearly, whatever his mother had threatened him with had been enough to make him agree to her demands, despite how much he obviously didn’t want to.

There was no fucking way I was letting this happen. Any of it. Him leaving when he didn’t want to. Abandoning the life he’d built for himself. Giving up the job he loved.

Marrying someone he didn’t want. Didn’t even know.

I took his hands again and led him over to the bed so we could sit. I was going to stop this. I was going to fix it.

“Tell me everything she said.”

—

By the time Crossbody stopped talking, I was so fucking furious I was struggling to maintain my composure. I managed it for his sake, even though he seemed a little calmer now, like repeating the whole terrible conversation out loud had let him process it a bit.

Or fully resign himself.

“Okay,” I said firmly, cupping his face and leaning in to kiss his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “We can fix this. I’m going to fix this.”

“How?” he mumbled, his back hunched as he picked at the hem of his shirt.

I already had the start of a potentially ridiculous idea, but I didn’t want to get his hopes up unnecessarily in case it didn’t work out.

“First, let’s get you in the shower, huh?” I stood and helped him up. “You’ll feel better. Have you eaten?”

“A bit.” He rubbed his eye, looking exhausted both physically and emotionally. It made my chest ache, and I shifted closer to slip my arms around him and kiss his neck, keeping my face pressed there.

“I’m not going to let this happen to you,” I told him hoarsely, and felt him shudder against me.

“It’s not your responsibility,” he mumbled.

Letting him go, I stepped back and shrugged stiffly, feeling heat creep into my face. “Yeah, well. I’ve decided it is. You’re not going back.”

You’re not leaving me.

For the first time since I’d arrived, his mouth tilted into a small, wobbly smile.

“Thank you, Vince.”

Clearing my throat, I rested my hand on his lower back and led him to the door. “I’ll make you something to eat while you’re in the shower. And I have to call Holt to let him know I’ve spoken to you. He’s worried.”

“Sorry,” Crossbody said quietly.

“Don’t be sorry.”

I took him into the bathroom and started the shower, then helped him unbutton his shirt and take off his pants. After giving him one last kiss on the cheek, I waited until he’d climbed in and I knew he was steady on his feet, then went downstairs, already pulling my phone out of my pocket to quickly text Holt and let him know that I’d spoken to Crossbody. Then I scrolled through my contacts to find a number I hadn’t used in years.

The cat had migrated to the dining table at one end of the long kitchen, and she watched me suspiciously as I tugged open the fridge, lifting the phone to my ear.

I stared blankly at the shelves. There were a lot of expensive-looking cured meats, like prosciutto and something called bresaola, which I’d never fucking heard of before. But I also spotted some fancy French mustard, so I figured I’d be able to slap a sandwich together.

I loaded everything I needed into the crook of one arm as I listened to the phone ring in my ear. I’d dumped it all on the counter and begun searching for bread when the ringing stopped and I heard a familiar voice.

“Frederick du Gateur, Gateur Garbage Disposal and Waste Management.”

“Hey, Freddie.” I finally located a loaf of bread and set it on the counter. “It’s Vince Burke. I, uh, used to be the janito—”

“Vinnie? Vinnie the ghoul? Ey, it’s good to hear from you, ami! How’ve ya been? Still living the dream doing the wrestling thing, right?”

“Yep, uh-huh.”

“My mimi still goes to watch most weekends. Can’t keep her from letting loose, even at her age.”

“Yeah, she’s great,” I said absently, abandoning the sandwich as a hint of apprehension crept through me. Scrubbing the back of my neck, I cleared my throat and said, “Look, Freddie, I know this is really fucking rude of me, but—”

“What do you need?” he asked easily. “Not rude at all, Vinnie. You’re family.”

I exhaled in relief. “Great. Thank you. I don’t know if this is even something you can help with, but… you know the Spring Queen of Otherworld?”

“Course.” It sounded like he was eating something, his voice a little muffled. “We keep tabs on everything, Vin. Sometimes fae cross over from the different Otherworld courts, either to visit or move here. It’s our business to know our local supernatural community.”

“Right, right.” I licked my dry lips. “Well, I don’t know if your, uh, mimi has ever mentioned a certain wrestler working at Goliaths…”