Page 8 of Homesick, Lovesick (Harper Valley Witch #3)

"I would like it stated for the record that starting off in the rain is bullshit,"

Ronan said sourly.

To be fair, a good part of his attitude problem this morning was that nobody had seemed to give a fuck about Fuckhead slicing his arm.

We're so sorry and we'll look into it and a terrible, strange accident and other similar bullshit.

Clearly Lynwood was the favored child who could do no wrong.

Even Minerva hadn't seemed overly concerned, mostly just confused, and apologized profusely and promised it wouldn't happen again.

Also, they were stuck with Lynwood.

The team consisted of their guide, a mage, and two paladins.

Common sense would have dictated that a golden paladin be in their group to balance Ronan, but somehow it hadn't worked out that way.

Whatever.

They'd just be driving off bears and shit, anyway.

He'd be too busy and exhausted most of the time to give a shit about Lynwood, and could mostly ignore him the rest of the time.

Their guide was the son of Diamond, whose name was apparently Carmen.

The son, Marvin, was…fine.

Kind of snotty, clearly thought he was special because he knew the woods so well, but at least he wouldn't do something shitty like hurt Ronan and then act like it wasn't a big deal he'd broken one of the biggest rules of sparring.

Whatever.

Nothing Ronan could do about it while they were in the middle of the stupid woods.

He'd just get through this, and then they could go home and this nightmare would be over.

It was just a stupid cut, already healed, he shouldn't be so hung up on it.

They wouldn't reach the first node to start the warding until tomorrow, though it might be late tomorrow with this shitty ass weather.

Ronan trudged onward, keeping to the path they thankfully were following for now.

That wouldn't last, but he'd enjoy it while he could.

Right ahead of him, in the middle of the pack was Lynwood, who of course wasn't interested in taking the rear, since that was one of the most dangerous places to be.

He was yammering on incessantly about how wonderful and perfect his Guard and the general area were.

He and the others had spent all fucking night doing the same thing, talking it up to Match to a truly ridiculous degree.

The only thing that bothered Ronan about it all was that they seemed sincere in wanting Match with them.

They probably wouldn't cave to lame ass attempts at blackmail and leave Match to suffer when he needed them most.

No, they'd give him full, unhesitating support.

He'd never be at odds with so much of the town because they'd stabbed him in the back in the worst possible way.

If he did decide to move here, would he want Ronan to come with him, or would he prefer a clean break? Would a clean break be better? Could Ronan leave his uncles and the life he'd worked so hard to build? For Match he would do literally anything, but that one would fucking hurt.

On the other hand, Match so far hadn't seemed interested in anything they'd had to say.

He also hadn't talked about it, even the couple of times Ronan had brought it up, he'd just moved the conversation to other matters.

Like he didn't want to talk about it with him.

Ronan didn't know if that was a good thing, a bad thing, or not a thing at all.

When they finally stopped for a break at a little campsite, the rain was still going, so they couldn't even make a fire to get warm.

They just huddled under a little shelter that someone had installed, some wooden and metal thing that was probably meant to sleep under for anyone staying the night, and munched on trail mix and jerky for a quick snack.

Then they were off again, trudging through the cold, dreary mess.

If this was the first day, he wanted nothing to do with the rest of the trip, but there were a hell of a lot of days to go, so he mustered up as good a mood as he could and kept his snarking to the texts he sent to Benny and Traci.

Finally, the rain let up about an hour before they were due to stop for the night.

By the time they did, he was almost dried off.

When they reached the spot where they'd be staying for the night, a cute little clearing that wasn't as formal a stop as where they'd taken a break but still showed signs of use, like logs to sit on and a cleared space in the middle for a fire, Ronan set to work, despite exhaustion and soreness.

He started by clearing debris, making certain to do so for both tents.

Then he got the tent he'd carried all day set up, got the little heater and its propane tank set up, and got the tent warming.

With all that done, he changed into sleep clothes, slipped on his favorite fleece pullover, and set his still-damp clothes out to dry.

If they dried suitably overnight, they'd be good for another day of wear.

After that was a short, miserable bathroom break, and then he could finally sit the fuck down.

Match of course had a beautiful fire going, and Marvin was at work preparing their dinner.

"Man, I hope the rain gives us a break for a few days,"

he said around a yawn.

"No kidding."

Match tossed the match he'd been sucking on into the fire.

"Thanks for setting up the tent and everything."

Ronan smiled and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"What I'm here for, yeah? And to fight great and terrible evil, but let's be real, my biggest threat is the giant ass spiders that will attack me in the night."

Match giggled against his metal coffee cup.

"You're more likely to be struck by a meteor than dangerously bit by a spider."

"I don't believe you. That one in the mailbox almost got me."

Lynwood dropped down on Match's other side.

"Are you seriously scared of spiders?"

"Everyone gets the heebie-jeebies around something, and their little legs freak me out."

Ronan shrugged, refusing to be bothered.

"It's not like I murder them. Ain't their fault they scare me. Live and let live, so long as they don't touch me."

Marvin gave a small laugh.

"I'm not the biggest fan of snakes, which sucks, because we'll see snakes before we see spiders."

"You're all ridiculous,"

Lynwood said.

"What's for dinner?"

Marvin looked up from his work putting dinner together.

"Chili. Me and some of the others spent damn near a whole month making and freeze-drying food for this. I've got chili, beef stew, beef and barely soup, mac and cheese…all kinds of stuff."

He held out a steaming cup to Ronan.

"Here, some chamomile tea with honey."

"Thanks."

Not his favorite tea in the world, but he wasn't gonna complain about something hot to drink. He took a sip and barely kept from wrinkling his nose. He didn't remember chamomile being faintly bitter, but then again, he hadn't had it in at least six months. He usually had mint or chai or one of the million unique herbal teas Match threw together.

By the time he'd finished the tea, dinner was ready, which was good, because Ronan could barely keep his damned eyes open. Not yawning between every single bite was an exercise in control.

"This is really good,"

he said around another yawn.

"Thanks for making it."

Marvin smiled absently, looking up briefly from his phone before going right back to it. They still had reception, but that probably wouldn't last as they went deeper into the woods and further from civilization. Thankfully, Marvin carried a satellite phone for emergencies.

"You look exhausted,"

Match said, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down Ronan's back.

"Go to bed. It's not like there's much else to do anyway. I'll be along—"

"We should switch things up,"

Lynwood said.

"We're gonna be out here a long time. We need to get to know one another. I should sleep with you, and Ronan can sleep with Marvin. Tomorrow we'll switch it up, and just keep rotating."

Ronan was going to punch him. "You—"

"That's fine,"

Match said.

Ronan stilled, feeling like someone had just punched him in the face. But his eyes watered on another jaw-cracking yawn, and they felt so heavy.

"Fine. Whatever."

He went into the tent he'd worked so hard to put together, which was nice and toasty now, and grabbed everything he'd left in there, then went into the other tent that decidedly showed a half-assed effort, and crawled into the first sleeping bag he saw. If they didn't like his choice, too damn…

"Ronan!"

Ronan dragged his eyes open, trying to respond to a voice that seemed so far away. Familiar and angry. He finally managed and stared groggily at Match, who was glaring at him in a way he never had before. "Wha…"

"Why are you still asleep?"

Match demanded.

"I shouted for you like six times! We needed your help. I needed your help!"

"What?"

Ronan fumbled to get his hands under him, then pushed up to a sitting position.

"I'm sorry. I'm so tired. I can't seem to wake up. What happened?"

"A troll, that's what,"

Lynwood said from behind Match.

"It came right at our tent. If I hadn't woken up, it would have destroyed a lot more than that. If you'd woken up, we could have maybe saved more stuff, but as it is, we're down a tent and a heater and some of our food."

Ronan scrubbed at his face. Fuck, why couldn't he seem to wake up.

"I'm sorry. I'm really fucking sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I just can't seem to wake up."

"Here, take this,"

Match said, pulling a bottle out of his satchel and thrusting it into his hands, still clearly put out.

"Thanks."

Ronan drank the bitter tonic down, and thankfully it started to work damn near immediately. He'd have a headache when it wore off, but he was already perking up and feeling clearer-headed, which was all that mattered.

Lynwood gave him a sneering look as he stood.

"You sure you're cut out for this? We can still call someone to replace you, and you can just help at camp."

Ignoring that, Ronan said, "I'll get the mess cleaned up and pack everything. We can leave the wrecked stuff here for someone else to retrieve, or I'll come back for it when we're done with this round. I really am sorry. I've never slept through danger before."

Outside, the air stank of dead troll, like someone had pissed on hot garbage. Pulling up the collar of his hoodie as far as he could to help block it, Ronan set to work bundling up the shredded tent, setting the bits of the broken heater in the middle, and tying it all up with the ripped cords from the tent. He secured that to a tree and placed an orange flag in the middle of the clearing for someone to easily spot if they came for the stuff.

By the time he was done, and the others had packed up everything else, the sky was just barely beginning to lighten. They turned on lanterns to help a bit and headed out, barely saying anything as Marvin led the way through the dark.

Ronan rarely ever felt compelled to cry about anything, even when his parents had been at their worst, but he really wanted to cry right now. He'd never slept through danger before, not once. His various teachers had all, to the one, praised him on being so alert. It hadn't even been a difficult trek. Exhausting, sure, but he'd hiked way harder just for fun, usually with Match when he did one of his hardcore foraging expeditions. It made no sense.

Why the hell had a troll attacked anyway? Trolls were pretty skittish, generally. They rarely bothered anyone unless they were bothered first. If they'd been after the food, which was unlikely, they'd have been scared off after realizing there were multiple people around. Attacking out of nowhere was so weird. Never mind that if a troll was skulking that close, they should have noticed it in some way.

He looked up, staring at Match's back, yet another apology on his tongue. But Match had been distant all morning, since they'd broken camp… He glanced at his watch. Three hours ago now. It was only seven in the damn morning. And the tonic Match had given him was wearing off, the promised headache already throbbing at his temples.

Normally he might ask for something to relieve it, but dealing with a headache seemed the least he could do. Anyway, normally Match was pretty good at giving him stuff like that unprompted. If he wasn't this time…

Anxiety roiled in Ronan's gut. Was Match starting to change his mind? About staying in Harper Valley? About them? No, that was stupid. One bad night, one stupid mistake, wasn't enough to make Match quit anything.

Except it wasn't one mistake, was it? It was years of being underpaid and unappreciated. It was not one but several of his friends turning their backs on him when he'd needed them most. It was the mayor abusing him, throwing him out. It was months of a strange, miserable stalemate with the town as Match refused to speak with them, and they floundered on how to rebuild the bridge they'd burned down.

Now it was Ronan sleeping too hard to carry out his most important duty.

The ring felt heavy and out of place in his pocket. Maybe he should have left it back home, instead of hoping for a pretty waterfall, a field of flowers, bright moonlight, and as close to happily ever after as life ever got.

Why wouldn't Match be tempted to go with the people who showed him so much appreciation and made it clear they'd support him properly? Even fuckhead Lynwood had done his job while Ronan snored the night away.

Ugh, his head really fucking hurt.

They stopped a few hours later, around ten, for a late breakfast or early lunch, Ronan wasn't sure which.

He hefted himself up to sit on a boulder next to Match, guzzling water like his life depended on, hopelessly thirsty on top of everything else. What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he getting sick? He never got sick. It seemed weird he would now all of a sudden. Reaching into his pack, he dug out trail mix, jerky, and an electrolyte packet to add to his water to help perk him up and maybe abate some of the headache. Match still hadn't offered him anything for it, and at this point, Ronan was too scared to ask for fear of rejection.

Instead he fished out all the peanut M he must have a plan.

He paused ever so briefly when he saw a flash of color that didn't belong, then laughed.

"Look, there's a piece of ribbon or something caught in this mess."

He went for it right as Match grabbed right next to it, yanking in tandem—and toppling over as it gave way far easier than they'd anticipated, throwing off their balance and putting them on their asses.

"Ow,"

Ronan groused, even as he laughed. He shifted to one knee, turning to face Match.