Page 32 of Snake Eyes & Bad Luck

Why did he have to be kind? It would be easier if he was only cruel. She’d dealt with cruelty her whole life. Avelina Dalethorn knew how to handle monsters.

Callum wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t even particularly nice. But she liked him nonetheless and it hurt to know that this random, awful outlaw from a swamp in the middle of nowhere showed her more decency than her parents.

“Now, don’t sip this fast, it’s still boilin’ hot.”

She gasped, blinking back to reality. Her vision swam as Callum lowered himself beside the bed. He cupped the back of her head, inspecting her face. He brought the gravy boat back to her lips and helped her take steady sips until it was cool enough for her to gulp. Then he put the water up against her pillow. She knew better than to pour it all down her throat like she wanted. Instead, she took mouthfuls and let it slowly trickle down her throat. The impulse to chug fell away.

It helped that Callum brushed her hair the whole time. Simply using his palms against her hair, both of them clearly worried about the knots that formed in her sleep, but the tender touch was greatly appreciated.

“What were they wrestling over?” she croaked after the jug was finally empty again.

“Huh? Oh, they got to arm wrestlin’ over who got to stab Daggertooth Dan durin’ the heist.” He shook his head; eyes still trained on her face.

“Why?” she sputtered. Like a turtle, she pulled her arms back under the blankets before the shivers returned.

“’Cause they’re pissed. Two of the guys betrayed us back at Parandor. It’s all Dan’s fault.” He laid his hand firmly against the back of her head. Avelina squinted at him. Callum quirked a brow at her. “Yes?”

“And so they’re what, proving themselves to you by wrestling in your living room?” She snorted weakly.

“In a way, sure.” Callum shrugged. “Not much to do at the moment, on account everythin’ is two feet underwater and goin’ for Dan’s toes right now would be a fool’s errand. They’re bored and needin’ to get energy out, but I made ‘em go splash outside. Wouldn’t want my little viper missin’ out on her beauty rest.”

She sputtered, unable to hide the curl of her lips. “Bet they loooooove that.”

“Does it fuckin’ matter?” He scoffed. “I don’t give a shit what they do when they ain’t workin’ for me. I ain’t their mama, so long as they show up when I call for ‘em and they do as they’re told, then they can sleep in a tree all day or paint their toes for all I fuckin’ care.”

“How progressive of you,” Avelina teased.

“Now, I do believe that sounded like sass. And if you’re well enough to sass me—” He grabbed the edge of the blanket. She squealed like a pathetic piglette on their way to slaughter. He howled with laughter, dropping the fabric back down. “Didn’t think so.”

“Didn’t think so,” she murmured mockingly into her pillow.

“Keep it up, darlin’, I’ll give that mouth something to complain about.”

“You won’t!” she spat, face scrunched for only a moment. Especially as she shifted to look up at him, calling his bluff.

His lips were curled. Callum affectionally tapped his thumb against her cheeks. “Nah, but it sounded real threatenin’, didn’t it?”

Avelina flushed, tugging the blankets up and over her knuckles. She pinned them to her chin, but it didn’t stop the flutter returning to her belly. Golden orbs roamed her face like he was putting it to memory. She wondered if he was in the same boat she was…liking the other person but knowing it was a terrible idea.

Because what if when her chance to escape arose, she didn’t take it? What if that titular romance book moment happened where she turned to run away, and she couldn’t take a step away from him?

It was silly, wasn’t it? Avelina couldn’t possibly ever like him enough to choose him over herself, could she?

“So, you don’t just hang out with them? Ever?” she asked, unsure what else to do to fill the intimate silence. She certainly didn’t want to leave it open. He might do something kind or sweet and make her question herself more.

“Never,” he groaned, shaking his head. To her relief, he climbed up on his tail again. Callum took the jug and gravy boat with him.

“Why not?” she blurted out.

“Cause I don’t like none of ‘em,” he scoffed.

“That sounds…” she trailed off, watching him turn back toward her in the doorway. He cocked his head. Callum waited for her to finish. The word bubbled up through her chest till it tumbled off her lips like the traitor it was. “Lonely.”

Callum made a face, eyebrows furrowed, gaze lowered, nose scrunched. He didn’t like the insinuation, but he didn’t have a counter point. Avelina pitied him in that moment. A king on a throne in a hollow court. She imagined him at the head of a round table, full of chairs that were overturned or broken up. Just him, the leader of his crew of outlaws, the big boss…all by himself.

“Know what the bards say, yeah?” He sniffed once uncomfortably. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, unable to bring her voice above a soft wheeze. “They do say that.”