Fable of Happiness (Fable #2) by Pepper Winters

It made me afraid.

Standing, I reached for him. “Kas...please. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

He stepped out of my reach. “You should leave. While the weather still holds.”

I reared back, pain slapping into my heart as real as if his palm had just struck my cheek. “It wasn’t the chain keeping me here. We both know that. I thought we’d both realized I stopped looking for a way to get free a while ago.”

He sniffed, his scruff soaking up the meager light, his shadowed eyes darker and complex. “All the same, if you leave in the night, I’ll-I’ll understand.” He cleared his throat. “Whatever promises you made me, consider them broken.”

“Are you talking about the promise I made to help you prepare for winter or the one where I promised to remember what you forget?”

His nostrils flared as he backed toward the door. “Both. You’re released from both.”

My hands balled into fists. “And if I don’t want to be released? If I want to stay here and help you? If I’m prepared to stay during the winter? If I’m ready to jot down everything that we do and keep a diary on every interaction we share, what then?”

“Then I’d say you sound as if you need a new hobby. You should go home. Back to the family you keep saying is missing you.”

It took a few seconds to get my temper under control. I inhaled and exhaled, schooling my tone into something that wouldn’t end in a fight. “I made the choice to stay, Kas. In the bath, I told you I chose you over my brother.”

His eyes flared, followed by a bolt of hunger and pure concentrated need.

My body reacted to his.

The air positively sparked as if candles sprung to life between us.

But then he shut it all down again.

He shook his head as if he couldn’t bear the thought that I’d put him first. As if he wasn’t used to such a thing. As if he felt guilty that he’d become so, so important to me.

“Don’t,” he whispered, taking another step toward the door. “Don’t put me first.”

I followed him. “Why? Why shouldn’t I? I promised you I’d help you get better.”

His hand struck up, barring me from chasing any further. “I’ve changed my mind.” His face twisted as if he swallowed something painful, as if his heart had forgotten how to beat. Rubbing his chest, he growled, “I think it’s best if you go. I don’t need your help anymore.”

Without waiting for me to reply, he vanished into the darkness of the foyer, disappearing into a mansion that’d watched too many children been broken down, twisted up, and spat out into despair.

I swayed to go after him.

I locked my knees and forbade it.

I’d let him go, nursing the new wounds he’d given me, dragging myself to the bathroom where I’d endured an icy shower. I hadn’t cried while I dressed in a powder-blue nightgown with a lace collar and spaghetti straps. I didn’t give in to the pressure as I shrugged into my hoodie and crawled under my stolen blankets to lay staring at the stars.

And even now, even with hours between this moment and that, I still refused to give in to the crush of agony that Kas was so skilled at delivering.

I sighed for the millionth time.

Enough, Gem.

Just...enough.

I sat up.

On nights like this at home, I’d get up and either scroll through some climbing forums or go for a climb. I had a twenty-four-hour pass to my local bouldering gym. I’d often haunt the slabs and be found repeating routes at six in the morning when other people would arrive for a session.

God, I want to climb.

I tipped my head back and looked once more at the sky. A little overcast but no rain. It would be a perfect night for a workout. I could slip into my gear and grab my climbing shoes and find something in which to take out my loneliness.

The urge to go rushed through me.

Kas wanted me to leave?

Maybe he was right.

Perhaps, I should leave for the night. Regardless that my body was exhausted from firewood gathering, I had a well of nervousness and unsatisfied desire.

A small climb, even just halfway up the cliff, would do wonders for my peace of mind.

Do it.

Scooting out of the blankets, I darted through the games room and into the library. There, I found my rucksack sitting by the desk. The food and chocolate bars remained in the downstairs closet, but my ropes, quickdraws, and other equipment had never been unpacked.

Kneeling beside it, I unzipped the heavy bag and rifled through my gear.

The instant my fingers touched the nylon rope and the cool metal of the carabiners, my heart panged for an easier existence. Homesickness filled me, and tears pricked my eyes.

The dry smell of chalk and the slight whiff of my climbing shoes brought back so many memories of Joshua and me arguing late at night. How he called me reckless when I regaled tales of almost tumbling off an 8A boulder with no crash mat. Of my mother curling her nose with confusion as I tried to show her how my new harness worked. Of Katie, my closest friend, when we challenged each other to speed climbing and both came in woefully slow.

I sat back on my heels, struggling not to cry.

What were they doing now?

Was anyone still looking for me?

Where was Josh? Did he gather a search party, or was he too used to his wild sister disappearing on some rock expedition, only to pop back up online with a new video, perfectly fine?