Beside

26 - hallowed

"Jellybean, what if I don't wanna go home?"

"Is it the dragon again?"

"..."

"You can stay here with me, Fox. For as long as you want."

· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·

c h r i s

He didn't come home yesterday. We waited, Cam and I, but when the sun set outside the balcony window, she said, "Fox is a bit of a runner, he'll just need time," and she went upstairs with Noah. I sat in the dark, worry settled so deep in my chest it had lulled me to sleep on the couch.

But now it's morning, and he's still gone.

I've nearly bitten my lip off. I try to imagine where he went, what he's doing, and I try not to think about baby Gwen and pain and fires and Whispering Pines—or pine trees whispering secrets in the forest.

I glance toward the balcony and see a figure—a lone silhouette softened in the morning light. Jed's leaning on the rail, staring out at the hazy cotton candy clouds as if he's waiting for something.

I pad over to the sliding door, knocking softly. I glide the glass open to slip out into the crisp air.

"Hey, want some company?"

He considers it for a moment, but he nods. I stand beside him at the railing, clutching my bowl, looking out at the city below, the busy downtown streets and flattop roofs.

"I'm going to meet Whitney for breakfast at Hallowed Grounds. You could come with me if you want."

"Would you like me to go?" he asks to check.

"Yes," I say, smiling.

He's staring at me, waiting for me to change my mind. But I just hold his gaze, and I wait too.

"Okay," he says. "Yes."

After I finish my cereal, and we ready ourselves, I stall another few minutes for Fox to walk in, but he doesn't, so we leave.

Jed and I meander down the narrow city streets, the air still cool and fresh. When pebbles slip into my flats, Jed stops and offers an arm so I can knock them out.

Soon we're outside the café. When we finally step into Hallowed Grounds, it's full of clinking mugs, soft jazz, and the scent of fresh pastries. Whitney and her coworkers are busy behind the espresso machine. She's in a long-sleeved shirt the colour of dried soil and her favourite flowy pants that flutter as she moves. Her apron's tied loosely around her waist, and her hair's in two long braids that swing over her shoulders.

Whit looks up and grins. I wave with a smile. She points toward a table by the window and I nod, knowing she'll come visit when she gets a chance.

We slide into the booth, Jed across from me.

"There's a lot of red paint on the floor," he says, tilting his head. I follow his line of sight, spotting the white and black tiles, and the faded grey of the walls. I don't see any paint.

A few minutes later, Whitney breaks from her flow, her breath short as she slides into the booth next to Jed. His dark eyes widen, not expecting her to sit so close. He reaches for his neck, almost like he's trying to shield himself.

"Hey, Jed," Whitney says brightly, bumping his shoulder.

Jed just blinks, his hand still at his neck.