Page 96 of Accidental Fae (Fae War Chronicles 1)
Chapter26
Ember
Astorm rages just outside the cavern where we’ve sought shelter. It offers just enough protection from the bitter wind and is deep enough that if we need to venture farther inside, we can do just that.
Ever since the moment two days ago where Rafferty confessed his pain to me, I’ve kept my distance. Even now, I sit at least two yards away from him, on the opposite side of the fire. I hate it, being so far away, but if being near him is actually causing discomfort, I’ll keep to myself.
“Tell me of your home.”
I glance up at him. “What about it?”
“Your work, home, friends. I know near nothing about that world.”
“Um, I can’t imagine I’m the best person to ask. I never really had much of a life,” I reply, honestly. “You already know that I was an orphan. When I turned sixteen, I filed for emancipation, it was granted, so I floated from shelter to shelter until I was able to save up for an apartment.”
“Emancipation?”
“Basically, I had to go before a judge and ask to be considered an adult.”
“At the age of sixteen?”
I nod.
“That’s so young.”
“For you immortals, maybe. But for a girl who’d been on her own pretty much since she could walk, it felt like forever before I was finally allowed to make my own decisions.”
Rafferty grunts. “What happened after that?”
I study his features in the firelight. “Are you sure you want to hear all of this? It’s not the best story.”
“I want to know all there is about you.”
How the hell am I supposed to stay away when your words make me want to curl into your lap?“Okay. Uh, well, I worked as a waitress, went to school to get my GED—basically a piece of paper that said I was okay to graduate high school—and after that, I started working full time. I took on more jobs; started teaching self-defense. Then, I started ghostwriting.”
“You wrote for ghosts?”
I snort. “No. I wrote material for authors to use as their own. It helps when they have a lot on their schedule or need someone else to nail a scene they’re struggling with.”
“So you help them lie.”
“I mean…I guess in a way, but it’s not unusual. Especially not these days.”
“Why did you never write for yourself?”
“Fear, mostly.”
“What is there to be afraid of?”
“Rejection? Not being good enough?” I laugh as I lift a twig and drag it around in the dirt below me. “There were plenty of reasons that seemed valid at the time.”
“Fear seems a strange reason not to do what you want.”
“I’ve been driven by fear my entire life. Though, all of it seems silly now, given what I’ve faced the last few weeks.” Dropping the stick, I draw my knees up to my chest.
“You’ve certainly had a lot to deal with.”
“What’s crazy, though, is that it wasn’t until I actually believed I was going to die that I got the courage to live.”