36. Connor

Ididn't love the idea of a bunch of kids trapped out in the woods with, what, some primordial child of nightmares?

A child of the literal corn?

I didn't fucking know, but Peter had... pointed ears. Pointed ears.

And somehow, I got the impression that the weren't fake or the result of some cosmetic surgery done because someone was just a little too into the hot twinky elf from Lord of the Rings.

It took me a full minute, my hand on Jessie's shoulder just to make sure I didn't forget they were back with me, for my heart to stop racing, even after Everett explained that Peter had come from the woods too—had been out there like Jessie, but for longer. A lot longer.

More than a century.

I was well out of my depth. All the horrors of the world, the tragedies we faced at Tadpoles alongside the victories that made the work worth it, and I'd never imagined we'd be up against anything supernatural.

Partially, I wanted to go on a media campaign uncovering the literal fairies in our midst, stealing our kids.

Of course, I knew that'd make me sound absolutely fucking crazy, but more than that?—

I glanced down at Jessie. They'd been through enough, even if they didn't seem any worse for wear. Still, on the off chance I was able to convince anyone that I was telling the truth, they'd want to know how I'd figured it out, why Jessie looked the exact same as they had when they'd disappeared.

Why Peter had apparently aged overnight, which Everett had told me to excuse the growing up all at once thing, but?—

No. This wasn't the kind of thing that I could shove into the spotlight, but my skin felt clammy just thinking about it.

Looking down at Jessie, I could only be glad that?—

What? That they hadn't gotten swallowed up by magic? That they'd come back to me? That they were just as I remembered them instead of in their thirties demanding a driver's license or something that'd give me a guaranteed cardiac event on the spot?

I had my hand in their curls and was distinctly considering shoveling cookies into my mouth when Peter came back in.

"There's drama out there," he muttered. "I saw some people talking to Everett and Mattias and just—nope. Not my scene. Not at all."

"What kind of people?" I asked.

Peter shrugged. "Serious kinds? They seemed upset." His nose scrunched up. "I'm not a big fan of, ah, grown-up talk? You know, the sharp, mean way adults talk to each other when they want something? So I figured"—he waved his hand behind him—"let Everett handle it. Or Mattias. Or, you know."

Peter shrugged, giving me a look that said I was the adult in the room. And sure, but damn, I didn't feel it.

Was it really my place to rush in and try and sort this out for Mattias, whatever it might be? We hadn't been together that long, and there were a lot of particulars we still needed to figure out.

No, Jessie being back didn't change me wanting to stay in Cider Landing. So far, they'd even seemed comfortable in Cider Inn, and, well, I was starting to get the impression that it might be better for us to fly under the radar as much as possible. If people in Cider Landing had come out of the woods like Jessie, there had to be some way to pull that off. They'd be more understanding than people out in the rest of the world.

But as much as I didn't want to step on Mattias's toes, I couldn't leave him out there on his own.

Couldn't leave Jessie alone either.

"Would you mind looking after Jessie for a minute?" I asked Peter.

He grinned. "You're leaving us alone with the cookies? Bold man."

He and Jessie shared a look, and I—well, if I came back to an empty tray, maybe that'd be fine... this once.

"We're good," Peter assured me.

Jessie's head bobbed up and down, though they were already biting their lip, eyeing up the cookies. And?—

One thing at a time.

I walked out of the kitchen, around the edge of the little dining room toward the office, where Everett and two strangers were waiting. I didn't like how they were all clustered around the door, like they were trapping Mattias in, backing him into a corner.

Yeah, I knew Everett didn't have any part in that, but the other two? The look in their eyes was distinctly predatory.

"Sell it while it's still worth something, Matty," the woman was saying while Everett looked on uncomfortably. "The place is going to fall down around you, then what? You'll have nothing, Mom'll be without a place to live or anybody to care for her, and for what? Pride. That's all this is."

"No," Mattias said through his teeth, "all this is, is my home. Our home. And given that you haven't lived here since you were a teenager, you don't actually have any say in what we do here."

The woman's face screwed up, her lips pouting like Mattias was ever so cute for saying so.

The man beside her cleared his throat. "We have concerns as to Mrs. Hall's ability to care for herself."

"We?" Mattias snapped, giving the man a once-over. "Mr. Finke, excuse me, but you don't have a stake in this."

"Regarding your mother's legal standing as next-of-kin to Mrs. Hall?—"

Mattias snarled at his mother. "Bull-absolute-shit. You know how the wills were handled when Grandpa got sick. Or maybe you don't, because you weren't there."

"I'm her daughter, Matty. I want what's best for her. And believe it or not, for you. You're my son."

"Not in any way that counts."

"Hey, I gave you the best life I could, even if that meant getting out of the way."

Mattias looked like he was about to blow. Clearly, the lawyer realized it, because he cleared his throat.

"The number of repairs this place will need in the next decade alone would pay for the best care in the state for Mrs. Hall. My firm is ready to put an offer down today?—"

"Excuse me," I broke in, stepping forward to break up the huddle bearing down on Mattias. I shoved my hand into the lawyer's space so he had no choice but to move back to shake it.

"Do I know you?" The man was staring at me with his eyes slightly narrowed.

"Connor Darling." I shook his hand. He glanced down at my shirt—my ridiculous, old, slightly worn, Darling International polo shirt—and swallowed.

"A pleasure, Mr. Darling. I'm Edward Finke."

"Right." No sense in me pretending I felt the same. This was, at best, an imposition in a moment when I hardly needed one. "And who are you?"

I turned to Mattias's mother with the same wooden smile that locked in place each time I'd walked into a boardroom at Darling International.

"Who am I? Who are you?" The woman looked me over, eyes flashing. "This is a family matter. I don't know who you are, but I do not appreciate the interruption."

I glanced at Mattias, whose face had gone stark white with rage. He opened his mouth.

"Ah, yes," I said, tipping my head back, "you're Ms. Hall, I take it? Mattias"—I turned his way—"I didn't realize you were considering other offers."

The shock took him out of his anger. "Other offers?"

"Yes, I do hope you'll allow me the chance to make a counteroffer if your mother intends to buy in on half of the Cider Inn."

"Buy in?" Mr. Finke asked. "You intend to make an offer on... the business?"

I ignored his confusion.

"Indeed. I've been trying to convince Mattias here to let me invest in him since the first time I tried his pork roast. Hard not to get swept up and toss money at a place, knowing the talent behind it. The Cider Inn has incredible potential to become a real destination. In fact, Everett and his business partner are here to give us an estimate on the cost of repairs and renovations. Isn't that right?"

Everett coughed into his fist to hide his surprised laugh, but when he recovered, he nodded. "Yes, indeed, Mr. Darling. We'll have numbers to you within the week."

"Wonderful. So, unless you're here to place a bid of your own—" I arched a brow, and Ms. Hall blanched before me.

No, she wasn't here with her own resources. She was here to take from her mother's, her son's. I wasn't having it.

"You can't possibly think this place is worth—" she sputtered.

"It's worth everything," I interrupted, holding Mattias's eyes. He couldn't think, not for one second, that his mother was right. "Anything Mattias would ask. Whatever he wants."

His mother made a frustrated sound.

"Ms. Hall!" Mr. Finke called, but she was already stomping toward the door, and I didn't care.

I just held Mattias's eye while the storm door swung open and snapped shut again. His breath hitched, and I worried he might fall apart on me right there. It'd be—god, it'd be fair, after everything, but if he did, I wasn't sure I wouldn't collapse to the carpet right there beside him.

Jessie was back, and I was making an offer on the inn, and we—we were maybe going to be okay and maybe upend our whole lives and it all felt floaty and surreal.

Somehow, Mattias stayed standing, and that gave me the strength to stay upright too.

Barely.

Mattias stepped closer to me and lowered his voice. "I appreciate you stepping in, but you really don't have to do this. We'll... figure it out."

I reached down and slipped my hand into his. "Sweetheart, I am one hundred percent in on this. Well, figuratively one hundred. Literally, more like fifty percent. The business is still yours. You're the expert. But I believe in you. The inn, the restaurant, whatever you want to make of this place, I'm in."

He stared at me, his eyelids fluttering a little too fast before he drew in a shaky breath and nodded.

"Okay. If you're sure, that's—thank you," he whispered roughly. "Seriously. Thank you."

I shook my head. How could I possibly get him to understand that whatever I was doing for him now, he'd done for me tenfold, each time he'd been there for me, been patient while I figured my shit out, helped me find Jessie.

Anything I could do for him, anything I could offer—it was already his.