Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

“Would that be so bad? To feel those things?”

His nostrils flared, his temper building. His body gave clear evidence he wasn’t ready. He might never be ready to talk, and that was the awful choice I’d made by falling for him.

I looked past him to the windows where the sun shone, promising fresh hope the moment we stepped outside of this evil, haunted house. Now was not the time to talk about things we couldn’t fix. Now was the time for action. For preparation. For chores to keep our hands and minds busy.

“Get up.” I put my hands on my hips. “We’re leaving.”

“What?” His head cocked as if I was mad. “Where the hell are we going?”

“I’m ready to help you.”

He scowled. “With what exactly?”

“With survival.” I tilted my head. “Or are you forgetting that too? If you remember the foyer and the knife, surely you remember your ultimatum that we are partners now. Relying on each other to survive and all that. You listed all the jobs that needed to be done before—”

“Winter arrives.” He ran a hand through his long hair, flinching as he used his broken arm.

A flair of annoyance ran through me. “You really shouldn’t keep using that arm. Punching the wall last night probably didn’t do it any good.”

He went deceptively still. “I punched the wall?” His eyes strayed to the bloodstained wallpaper as if he trusted answers from a building far more than he trusted me. I waited for him to ask more questions. But in the end, he huffed and said nothing.

“It needs to be in a sling,” I muttered, breaking the tension. “That would force you to rest it.”

He sniffed. “If we’re finally prepping, I don’t have time for a sling.”

“I’ll do most of the work. You only need to teach—”

“Ha.” He stood, swaying a little. With a slight shake of his head, he stayed upright. “You’re not doing anything without my help.” He rolled his eyes, wincing as he did. “Do you think our roles have switched so much that you’re the one in charge here?”

I raised my chin and quirked an eyebrow. “Yes, actually.”

He grunted under his breath, rubbing his temple as if he could rub away his headache. “Well, you’re wrong.”

“Well, I’m still going to help you. On one condition.”

His eyes met mine. “What condition?”

“I want the chain removed.” I waggled my ankle, making the leash dance on the carpet. “The blasted thing catches on everything. I’m sick to death of dragging a chair around or getting hung up on a table. I vow to you I will not run.”

His lips pursed as thoughts scattered over his face. He swallowed hard, probably analyzing my promise not to flee, debating on my truthfulness. Finally, he sighed heavily, chagrin painting him. “I don’t...I don’t remember what I did with the key.”

“Oh.” I bit my bottom lip before matching his sigh. “Damn, that does complicate things.”

His hands plucked at the chain slinking under his T-shirt, pulling up the material to reveal the leather belt tethering me to him. “No, not really.” Dropping his hand, he looked at me, stern and savage. “I wouldn’t have let you go anyway.”

My heart tripped, full of confusion that the man it’d fallen for could still be so cruel. I pushed the pain away and stayed brave. “You will. You’ll let me go eventually.”

He shrugged. “Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Striding around me, he headed toward the exit, stepping over shattered plates and ruined meat. “Come on. We don’t have all day.” He didn’t wait for me, knowing I wouldn’t have a choice. Eventually the chain would snap and I would follow and he would win.

Just like yesterday.

Just like the day before.

Just like all the days since I’d found him.

Nothing’s changed.

Everything’s changed.

I just had to remind him.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

“NO, YOU’RE DOING IT wrong,” I barked.

Goddammit, she infuriated me.

And perplexed me.

And scared me.

And undid me, one shitty piece at a time.

She was right.

My mind might not remember what’d happened last night, but my heart sure as fucking did. And it tripped over itself every time she was near.

“How else am I supposed to do it?” She huffed, swiping at hair that’d come unstuck from her ponytail. Dirt smeared her cheek, and the smell of compost was ripe in the air. For the last two hours, we’d stood side by side in the shed, filling pots, planting seeds, and doing our best to ignore all the unsaid things between us.

I didn’t even know why I was bothering.

The sun didn’t last as long these days, which meant the growth patterns had already adjusted for the colder seasons. I was probably wasting precious seeds on an experiment that wouldn’t yield edible results, but...what fucking choice did we have?

We didn’t have enough to last the winter.

If the animals sharing the valley had already started nesting elsewhere, then trapping enough to feed us would be tough. Whatever chocolate was left in Gemma’s backpacks wouldn’t be enough to keep us going. And we had no plan B.