Page 46 of Finding Her (Lore of the Fields #1)

“Yes please,” I smiled. He was being surprisingly supportive given his initial reluctance to entertain the idea of me working.

His current attitude felt healthy—normal, even.

What had been the issue in the first place?

I suspected it had nothing to do with me; Graysen’s trauma was deeply rooted in all areas of his life.

What mattered to me now was his willingness to face those anxieties so I could be more than a domesticated house pet.

Because that role was out of the question.

Following breakfast, I tugged on some boots and slipped Graysen’s heavy tweed jacket over my shoulders.

Graysen wore a brown leather hide tunic with a thick olive-green scarf wrapped around his neck.

Knowing the cold wouldn’t be affecting him, I smiled.

His choices were purely for fashion alone.

The way he maintained his preferred aesthetic was endearing.

We strolled in a comfortable silence while I took in the snowy village.

I was captivated by how still things were.

There were a couple of Lychan and a Quadmos already up, I could see them collecting newspapers and shoveling their sidewalks, but for the most part, there weren’t many signs of life yet.

The fresh snow was yet to be sullied by dirty boot prints and streaks from wheels.

Faint starlight peered through the low mauve-gray clouds above us, a clear indication that this world hadn’t been awoken just yet.

We couldn’t have walked much more than a mile before we reached a row of connected tin-sided houses.

Each section was a different color, with the panes of metal overlapping to form jagged edges where one home met the other.

Smoke puffed out of pipes on the sloping, snow-covered rooftops.

The quality of housing seemed lower than what I saw around town, but the smell of savory food and the sight of carefully arranged decorations created a feeling of comfort and community.

The residents of this neighborhood clearly cherished their homes.

I followed Graysen to the aged metal door of a blue unit. It was the sole home on the strip without a touch of individuality; nobody had bothered to make it their own. The black mailbox bolted to the siding was overflowing with letters, adding to the feeling of abandonment.

Graysen knocked. “Mykie, it’s me!”

Nobody answered. I was preparing mentally to return home and select an outfit from what I had available when he reached into his pocket and removed a rusty brown key.

It took some finagling to wiggle into the lock, but it clicked smoothly once settled.

He pulled the door open and gestured for me to step under his arm through the doorway.

The townhouse was dim and dusty. Cloudy streaks of light escaped through the cracks of its shuttered windows.

Although reluctant to have any rude thoughts about the home of someone I was about to ask a favor from, the space felt oppressive.

The suffocating energy in the air could be sliced with a knife.

The front door let into a combination kitchen-dining area.

There was hardly a cleared surface in sight, with scattered newspapers and writing utensils creating the impression of madness.

I had never seen Mykie lost in her own head, but this was the home of somebody who never left it.

Graysen frowned. “I apologize. It was… managed the last time I was here,” he whispered. “I’ve been a bad friend in not stopping by.” His brows furrowed with concern as he less than subtly examined the carnage while continuing forward.

I watched my feet carefully in the dim lighting to avoid tripping on discarded debris. One of the many papers littering the ground stuck to the sole of my boot. I peeled it off, reading its title, “ The Science of Energy: Dr. Gable Discusses Innovation Efforts ”.

We turned the corner into a seemingly unused sitting area.

This furniture didn’t have the same layer of clutter, I was surprised by its luxury.

Her curved couch was large and covered in white fur pelts.

The coffee table was a frosted glass with golden rims. Against the wall was a stand-alone fireplace constructed from stone and a brown metallic alloy.

The only consistency from the dining area to this living space was the remains of her vices.

“Fucking hell, Graysen.” The raspy voice caught me off guard. Mykie’s exclamation violently severed the still silence of the room. “Maybe announce yourself next time.”

I spun around to find Mykie standing only a few paces behind us. Her gait was usually so commanding, but clearly she could be quiet when she wanted.

“We knocked,” Graysen said carefully.

She switched a lamp on in the corner, filling the space with artificial yellow light. “Is everything okay?” The voids of her eyes bore into us, seeking the answer before we could respond.

Graysen rested a hand on my back. “Faeryn starts her job today. She’s not sure she has the right clothing.”

“I need something bartender-y,” I confirmed, smiling awkwardly.

“Damn, Theo didn’t hesitate,” she grumbled, rubbing a stilettoed finger in circles on her flat temple. “Take a seat. I’ll throw together some options.” Her hand loosely waved at the elegant couch.

“Can you walk her to work?” Graysen rubbed his hand on my shoulders, as if to assure me this would be fine. “I need to go to the Southwest Market today to purchase some new bedding.” My cheeks flushed at his confession. I wasn’t sure what Mykie would assume, but I still felt exposed.

“Long trip,” she remarked, already walking into a nearby arched doorway. “We’ll be fine. Grab me some of that pastry I like while you’re there.” With that she disappeared, leaving us in the impersonal, open-concept room.

“You really don’t have to make a trip—” I cringed with a hushed voice.

“I’ve been meaning to anyway,” he cut me off. “There’s a significantly larger population of my kind in the South. They have many vendors specializing in fire management. I suppose I should invest in some additional safety precautions.”

Is that some roundabout way of telling me he wants to play around again ?

Wasn’t the morning after a little quick for future preventative measures?

Was he hoping to revisit where we left off tonight?

My stomach flipped with anticipation. I stared into his cool eyes, searching for a single speck of suggestiveness.

They were frustratingly neutral. I would have preferred he slap my ass and tell me I was going to make him burn his house down rather than be so aggravatingly ambiguous.

“You’re going to do great today.” My rampant speculation calmed when he slowly, hesitantly, kissed the top of my head. “I’ll walk you home at thirty-eight hundred.”

Once Graysen was gone, I sat on the far end of the semi-circular couch, running my fingers through the soft hairs of the pelts.

I noted a large beige basket of duplicates sitting across the room and wondered if she had a laundry cycle to keep the whites pristine, or if she just pulled out a replacement when one became soiled.

I had a hard time picturing Mykie tediously tending to difficult stains in the natural fibers.

Mykie strutted through the threshold, arms filled with clothing. She dropped it unceremoniously in a pile next to me and slouched back on the opposite end of the couch, crossing her long legs.

“Some of those might be too small for you, but you’re welcome to anything. They’re left over from when I tried having some normalcy. I don’t need them anymore.”

“Thank you.” I glanced over the collection of denim, slacks, skirts, blouses, and jackets. Why hadn’t she brought me this when I first arrived? I would’ve felt much more comfortable in her discarded style.

“Don’t dress too nice,” she warned. “Don’t want to draw as much attention to your attire as Graysen did in his button-downs. Just nice enough for tips.”

“I really appreciate it, Mykie.” I fingered through my options, seeking clothes that felt like me. Whoever that was.

“I have some makeup in the bathroom if that’s something you’re interested in,” she offered, pointing to the only actual door, located beside the dim archway to what must be her bedroom.

Trying on clothing made me feel more vulnerable than I expected.

Mykie was right, much of it was too small for me.

I found my thighs and hips consistently causing trouble with fitted pants.

Shirts that I thought might be loose on her contoured around my breasts snugly.

About a quarter of what she gave me would be good enough for future use—not a bad haul given the situation.

Regardless, the discard pile made me scowl at my reflection.

This wasn’t the best confidence boost before a new job.

For today, I picked the best option to rekindle my self-esteem.

That happened to be a pair of wide-leg, black silk trousers, and a tan mesh tank top overlaid with a black open shawl.

That had to be alright for a bar, right?

Besides, my tits looked fantastic. I felt more confident already.

As the final touch to my outfit, I re-wrapped my black silk ribbon around my neck and tied its bow so that the fabric ends draped over my left shoulder.

I tinted my lashes and lips with what Mykie had available, noting the time on the watch ticking away on the sink.

I officially needed to hurry up and leave soon, so I tugged my boots back on and stepped out to ask Mykie to lead the way.

She gave me a toneless “ looking good ” and escorted me out the door.