Page 24 of Dreamscape Therapies

Vincent stares at me. “You really think someone is doing this on purpose?”

“I do.”

The humor drains from his face and I don't blame him. It’s probably scary thinking about someone wanting to harm him this badly.

“Why?” he asks in a small voice looking down at his hands.

I don’t know, but I'm going to find out.

I stand. “Come on.”

“Where?”

“I'm getting you food.”

He immediately shakes his head. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I'm not hungry.”

“You're exhausted, you just had an emotional breakdown, and you've barely eaten.”

“I can survive.”

“You're a sleep-deprived Skinwalker.”

“So?”

“So if you fall asleep in my office, I'm going to have to explain to emergency services why there's a hibernating cryptid on my furniture.”

He flops sideways onto the couch and buries his face in one of the pillows. “No. I don't wanna.”

I put a finger to my chin and pretend to seriously consider his argument. “You make a compelling argument.”

His head turns slightly. “But?”

“But you haven't changed my mind.” I grab his hand and pull. “Come on.”

He groans as he gets to his feet. “You're annoying.”

“I've been told.”

“You're also tiny.”

“Rude,” I gasp.

He almost smiles.

We make it outside before I notice he's slowing down and follow his gaze.

The two Fae are standing beside the porch, stacking heavy material.

They both glance up, their eyes dropping to our hands. I look down and realize I'm still holding Vincent's hand.

Oh.

Oh, no.