“But don’t you see? They’re a combination of both energies. I think they were so strong because you helped in the first place.”
Lachlan’s mouth quirked. “Well, that’s good to know. But the other thing is more important. That we, you know, learn to tell the truth here.”
Simon was looking around the table, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “What lie, exactly, did you all tell? I mean, how do you lie to magic?”
There was an electric moment of uncomfortable silence.
“Oh my God, would you look at the time?” Kate said, standing up. “Josh, we need to take off!”
“Delicious cinnamon rolls, Barty,” Jordan said. “Thank you. You’re so good at pulling us together with food. Are we baking tonight after the coven meeting?”
“Yeah. I only have one event, but Lachlan’s mother has some extra orders in for me.”
“Good. Everybody meet here after sunset.” He blinked, and Alex thought for the umpteenth time that Jordan needed a good night’s sleep more than any of them. “And we should probably all walk the dog again.”
Bartholomew stood up and started gathering plates. “I need to move too,” he said on a yawn. “The hated day job awaits.”
“I’ll clean up,” Lachlan told him. He kissed Bartholomew’s cheek. “And after that, I’m afraid I need to run. I can be back for sunset ritual.”
Bartholomew shook his head. “No, baby, you need to prep your stock too. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. This way, tonight I can stay over at Jordan’s, and he can get some shut-eye.”
“I appreciate that,” Jordan said, and in a flurry of napkins and dishes to the sink and coats being tugged on, most of the house cleared out, with only Lachlan and Alex left to load up the dishwasher and wipe down the counters.
And Simon, to watch.
Alex became aware of Simon’s level gaze, aimed exactly between his shoulder blades as he worked. I’m not gonna ask I’m not gonna ask I’m not gonna ask—
“What?” he demanded, whirling around.
“That was very neatly done,” Simon said mildly.
Lachlan let out a low and dirty chuckle. “Noticed that, did you?”
Alex thought for a moment of lying, and then remembered that the entire reason everybody bailed had been because nobody wanted to lie. Alex sighed and went back to the kitchen table so he could sink into one of the padded chairs that had come with their other kitchen set, and rested his head in his arms.
“I’m sorry,” he said, meaning it. “I think the thing is both the truth and the lie were… intimate, I guess. Jordan hasn’t even told us his truth. He says he can’t put words to it. So, you know, it’s not that they want to lie to you—it’s that they don’t want to. But if it’s something we can’t even admit to ourselves, how do we admit it to a stranger?”
Simon was gazing into his eyes, and Alex thought for the umpteenth time how criminal it was for a man to have eyes that limpid and brown.
“I’m not a stranger to you,” Simon said, and Alex felt that odd shifting in his chest as time froze again. Simon brushed his cheek very carefully with his knuckle. “Am I?”
“No,” Alex rasped, thinking he should sit up, but that would wreck the quietness between them. “You’re not.”
“Can you tell me your truth?”
The flush that overtook him was probably epic and spectacular. If it made his neck sweat, that probably meant the rest of him looked like a tomato.
“Maybe not.” Simon gave a rusty chuckle. “Well, how about your lie?”
He’d been so kind—not mocking, not trying to shame them with his disbelief. He was, in real life, the kind of guy who would return a lost dog on his way to work because he wanted to see her happy and home.
“I asked for the strength to ride my bike an extra five miles and back to work.”
Simon sucked air in through his teeth. “But… but you didn’t really want to transfer to that branch!” he protested.
“Well, not after you asked me to stay.” Alex felt warm and protected—and tired and very truthful. “I should probably get some sleep. And you need to go.” Oddly enough, he still felt the charge start building in the wood under his hands. “And I’m afraid I’m so tired that I might spill embarrassing true things before I’m emotionally ready to be that vulnerable,” he added, relieved when the building charge sort of fizzled out.
“But,” Simon said, his voice nothing but gentle, “if that was your lie, you didn’t want to transfer even before that.”
Alex sighed. “I like my job,” he said. “I like our office. I like how every holiday—every holiday—is celebrated. Yom Kippur, Ramadan, Imbolc. Cheryl at reception always has a banner and something on the white board. It’s not just inclusive, it’s… optimistic.”
Simon chuckled. “Somebody’s always celebrating something somewhere. Yeah. That’s what we wanted. It’s why we hired her, because she promised to keep that current.”
“It’s good,” Alex said through a yawn. “I mean, even though Lockhart is going through a divorce, you guys try to keep that… not awful. How do you do that?”
“Mm… me and Gabby met in prep school and clicked so well we moved on to college together. We met Chris when we were getting our MBAs. Lots of time spent in Starbucks, talking about what a business we wanted to run would look like.”
“The art on the walls,” Alex mumbled, really out of it now. “You picked that.”
“Guilty,” Simon said, and Alex did not imagine the kind fingers running through his hair. Last night had been so awful. Fucking dog just gone. And now she was curled up at his feet, perfectly content. The grief and panic and anxiety also just gone. Poof.
“It’s nice,” he said simply, because Simon didn’t do big blotches of color. Landscapes, almost all of them local, with a few trips to the ocean in the staff room, which was blue. The entire office was populated with beautiful, warm, imaginative places—so it wasn’t like you were stuck in a beige cubicle. There was always the possibility for adventure.
“You’re nice,” Simon told him.
“Can I see your paintings someday, Simon?”
Simon smiled a little. “Caught that, did you.”
“Um-hum.”
“Well, when you’re ready to tell me your truth, maybe I’ll be ready to show you my etchings.”
Alex chuckled a little, and it came out sounding dreamy.
“But now is not the time,” Simon said regretfully. “I’m going to help you to your bed now, and I promise not to do anything inappropriate. I simply would rather you not fall asleep here, and that’s what’s looking to happen.”
“Mm.”
Simon stood and took gentle hold of Alex’s elbow, helping him to his feet. “Which one’s yours?” he asked as they turned down the hallway.
“First one on the left,” Alex murmured.
“Nice.”
Single bed, because Alex and Barty used to be in the same room and the house wasn’t that big. But Alex had filled the room with bicycling landscapes—giant posters from the point of view of someone whirring through a forest or a desert or a beach. He’d used as much of his wall space as possible, so walking into the room—the largest of the two bedrooms—was like walking into a fantasy in which a cyclist had his choice of venues.