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“Well, to tell you the truth: I haven’t been playing a lot lately. I had some stuff going on and needed to get better first.” He blushed again and fiddled with a thin leather band on his wrist I hadn’t previously noticed. “Sorry, not trying to dump my trauma on you.”

“Nikolai?”

“Mm?”

“Please stop apologising to me. You are not a burden.”

I didn’t know what made me say it.

Not the urge to see him cry.

“Sorry,” he sniffed, then chuckled through the tears when he heard himself apologise yet again. “Man, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve been a burden on everyone lately. You, too. I mean you had to rescue me because I was too dumb to find the way back.”

“No.” He flinched at the finality in my voice. “You couldn’t have found a way out of my forest. You shouldn’t even have been able to find a wayin. I made it so I wouldn’t get surprise visitors.” It was my turn to blush. “You are not dumb or wrong. It was nice to have you around,” I muttered as I finished the cold dregs of my coffee.

“Thanks, Jules.”

I got up, and he did, too. He was half a head taller than me today, I noted.

“I guess it’s time to take you back to the labyrinth.”

“That’s the plan.” His gaze dropped to my lips as if he was going to kiss me. “I’ll go and get my stuff real quick.”

“Do you still want to see the rest of the house?” I asked, clutching at straws.

“You need to give me a proper tour next time.”

Nine

Nikolai

Jules’facefell.

Don’t you see that I’ll never leave if you take me to your bedroom now?

“Next time, okay?” I needed to hear him say it.

“Yes, of course, Nikolai. Next time.”

I dashed back up to the guest room, grabbed my jacket and dead phone, and met Jules and an excited Barnabas by the door. As much as Jules had insisted it was no trouble for him, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.

We walked for almost half an hour until Jules stopped in a spot in the middle of the woods that looked exactly like the rest of what we’d seen.

He hadn’t said a single word since we left his house.

“This is it,” he said, so downcast it hurt my heart to look at him.

“Okay. Thanks for bringing me back, Jules.”

“Sure.” He stared down at his boots. “Will you be back?” he asked in such a quiet voice I could have pretended not to hear him.

“If you want me to, yes.”

Jules swallowed hard, then nodded. First slowly, then it was so pronounced that his hair rippled like the wind tearing through the firs.

“I know it’s not my place to ask you to do that. Do I want you to come back anyway? Yes,” he answered his own question.

Stop being this cute, Jules. Please. You are a hot homesteader living in a castle. I’m a depressed mess who hits a rubber puck and other players for a living. Don’t get my hopes up, please.