Page 91 of Crimson Moon Falling

“I’ve got it,” he snapped.

Jamie walked in and shook his head. “No, you don’t.”

Owen’s jaw clenched, but he adjusted the angle, and Feeny made a soft, contented noise when she latched back on.

“See? Not so hard,” I muttered.

“I didn’t ask for your help.”

Sahara shuffled into the kitchen, yawning and wearing an oversized K-pop concert jersey. “Is Owen being a whiny ass again?”

“Yep,” Jamie muttered.

Owen cleared his throat and stared at Jamie and Sahara. “Her pediatrician appointment is at ten. I need one of you to go with me.”

“Freda and I will go,” I informed him. “Then you can drop us off at the airport.”

“No. Anyone but you.” He stood, cradling Feeny against his chest. “I don’t need your help.”

Something in me snapped, and I crossed the kitchen in three strides. My fingers pinched his ear, and I dragged him toward the back door.

“What the hell are you doing?” He tried to shake me off, but I had leverage and the element of surprise.

“Hand her over to Jamie. We’re having a conversation outside.”

Jamie reached over and plucked the infant out of Owen’s arms. “It’s about time.”

I pulled Owen through the sliding glass door and onto the back patio. The red sandstone cliffs rose behind the property, catching the early light.

Letting go of his ear, I turned to face him. “I’ve had enough.”

His gray eyes were hard. “Of what?”

“Of this.” I gestured between us. “Of you treating me like I’m some kind of disease that infected your brother. I get it. You don’t like me. You think I make Conall weaker. You think I don’t belong here. Fine. But you don’t get to stand in that kitchen and act like I’m the problem when the real problem is that you’re a jealous little asshole and you can’t let go of your hurt and fear.”

His jaw tightened. “I’m not scared.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m a Resonant, Owen. I can feel it rolling off you.” I gestured between us. “We don’t have to be friends, but we need to work together because she deserves more.”

He was quiet for a long moment. “I still don’t like you,” he finally muttered.

“That’s okay because I think you’re a selfish man-child. But it’s not about us.”

“So what’re you suggesting?”

“A truce. And a formal promise that we put our feelings aside and focus on her needs.”

He studied me. “A formal promise is binding. You understand that?”

“I’m a Cog. We have magic too, remember?” I wanted to roll my eyes.

“Whatever. I promise I’ll try to get along with you. For her.”

“So eloquent,” I mocked. “I promise I’ll do what’s best for her too.” A faint breeze flowed over us, and something loosened in my chest.

Owen sniffed and turned to walk back into the house. “Alright, let’s go. I don’t wanna be late.”

I refrained from zapping him on his butt. Just barely.