Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fuck me, it’s hot, Shane thought to himself as he wiped an errant bead of sweat from his eye. It’s Spring 1. I swear to Yoba, it was fucking snowing yesterday. He shed his sweat soaked hoodie, tying its sleeves tight around his bloated waist. The white undershirt beneath it was stained at the pits, but he couldn’t find it in himself to give a shit.

As he meandered up the beaten path that led toward an abandoned farm that lay north of the ranch, he regretted his New Year's resolution to get more exercise — which, in Shane’s head, simply meant he’d take the slightly longer way to work in the morning. He’d felt smug when he disclosed his resolution to Marnie, certain that he’d pulled a fast one on her. What was she gonna do, check his fucking pedometer app?

Shane scoffed to himself as he passed the jauntily hung sign just before the fence line, and almost immediately tripped over a rock, falling to the ground palms first. He didn’t really have the luxury of feeling smug, because the great big bitchy universe took every fucking swing at him that it could.

SunnyVale Farms, Artisanal & In Season, read the sign, which creaked ominously as it swayed in the arid breeze. Shane rolled his eyes at it as he picked himself up off the ground and uselessly dusted off the knees of his shorts.

The place had really fallen into disrepair since he’d seen it last, the ground grown over thick with weeds and the once immaculate fields overtaken by rocks and branches. It would take a real piece of work to whip this place back into shape, but this spring marked ten years of old man Rosenhaal’s death, and Shane couldn’t imagine that anyone was ever coming to finally put the old farm out of its misery after so long. Surely if the man had any family, they would have come to lay claim over the once abundant plot of land by now.

Just as he came up the hill and passed the boggy lake occupying the center of the farm, he noticed something — something fucking creepy. The front door of the little shack that sat at the northernmost edge of the property was hanging wide open.

The first thought that crossed his mind was that a golem had finally taken up residence, which he could only attribute to the scary stories about the farm that he’d overheard Sam telling Abigail in order to get in her pants, but realistically, it was probably only Sebastian. Shane figured that the little bastard was likely holed up in the pisspoor structure smoking weed, which was a lot easier to believe than the town’s rather colorful monster lore.

But then, he saw something even more suspect than a golem or a stoned Sebastian. It was a woman, and she was picking up a giant box off the porch that appeared to be falling apart as she heaved it into her arms. Was she… moving in?

For some stupid fucking reason, Shane plastered himself against the back of the nearest tree and slid down it until his ass hit the ground. What kind of fucking weirdo would he look like if he was caught wandering around the abandoned property? Obviously, he wouldn’t get in any sort of trouble — not in a town like this — but either way, he wasn’t in the mood to explain himself. Or his resolution.

He craned his neck to get a better view of her, and just then, he saw Robin’s truck pulling up the drive, kicking up a shitload of dust in its wake. The total MILF of a redhead threw the truck in park, and she climbed out — along with Mayor Lewis. They both walked around to the truck bed, where each of them picked up a box.

Holy shit. Someone really was moving in. Shane couldn’t get a very good look at the new resident, but from his coward’s seat, he could spot a head full of long, muted pink hair tied off in high pigtails, a red scarf, blue jean overalls, and pale skin — and he could see that she was grinning ear to ear at Robin and Lewis. Shane couldn’t work out why, but that last part hit him right in the gut.

Even though he couldn’t see her very well, he decided right there that she was probably a dead knockout. But like the coward he’d always been, he wasn’t keen on sticking around to find out. Maybe Morris would make him scrub the toilets for a month if he was late again, but right then, he didn’t give a fuck. He’d rather backtrack through the ranch and end up ten minutes late to work than have to unpack that whole situation.

It wasn’t even eight in the morning, and Shane had already gotten more than his fill of SunnyVale Farm for the day.

**********************

“Hey, man, Morris wants to see you,” Sam said as soon as Shane walked through the door at exactly 9:10AM.

The blonde ball of radioactivity handed Shane a Joja Co. hat, and Shane gripped it a little too hard, mashing the bill into a weird fold. “For what?” He grumbled.

Sam only shrugged, and Shane glanced over at Claire, who was half asleep at her register, as usual. He briefly wondered how well it would bode if he were to take a nap on the bananas. He huffed a deep breath and sulked off toward the office.

Morris stood behind the service desk in the drab little room, clicking a pen violently against the table top in wait. The moment the office door creaked open and Shane stepped into the mothball scented space, his boss honed in on him like a fucking hawk.

“Mr. Slater,” Morris seethed, eyes narrowing and pen clicking coming to a dramatic halt.

Shane flinched. Not at the condescending tone, or the fact that he was about to get scolded — but at his fathers last name. He hadn’t been Shane Slater in a long, long time. It was just Shane now, or Shae, if you asked Jas.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Late start this morning.” Shane hoped that his boss couldn’t see the bags under his eyes, or smell the whisky that seeped from his pores in place of sweat.

“It’s your third time this week,” he said, pushing his glasses up his beak of a nose.

“It’s a Monday. First of the year,” Shane said in a deadpan tone.

Morris’s face twisted. “And what a way to kick off this new year, Mr. Slater,” the little troll of a man teased, rounding the desk until he stood right in front of Shane. Morris snatched the Joja cap off Shane’s head. “Getting fired.”

Shane only stared at him, assessing his options carefully. He could punch Morris’s teeth straight down his throat, and as his sweaty fists tightened at his sides, it seemed like a pretty solid idea. Or, he could leave this fucking place and never come back, which seemed reasonable, because he hated it anyway, and preferred the products at Pierre’s by far. They might have been a little more expensive, but at least they didn’t taste like plastic.

Shane chuckled flatly, glaring at Morris in a way that made the little man recoil. “Thank you,” Shane said through his teeth. It was a weird thing to come out of his mouth, but it felt right. He could never have quit, because of Jas — because of Marnie — but now, he was free.

Morris’s brows bunched in confusion, and Shane snatched the damn hat from his hand, only to throw it on the ground and stomp on it, just once as a healthy fuck you.

He wasn’t looking forward to job hunting, but it beat out this bullshit by far. Maybe he’d even look for something over in Ridgeside — maybe he’d find something worth a shit, and he and Jas could get a nice little place there to call home, rather than being Marnie’s constant burden.

He blew out a long breath as he shoved open the front door and stepped back out into the unseasonably hot Spring. He knew better than to delude himself with wishful thinking, because as much as he craved the independence that any grown man deserves, he knew that, without his aunt’s help, he’d fucking fall apart — and what’s worse, he’d take Jas with him.

*************

He’d been sulking for three days — maybe four. It was easy to lose track of himself since he’d moved to the valley — since he’d began drowning his shortcomings in whatever liquor he could get his hands on in a fucking place like this one.

Marnie had been the only one actually taking care of Jas lately, and Shane fucking hated himself for it, though Marnie never once complained. It tore him apart every time the little girl would look at him with her wide, dark eyes, and plead to go to the lake with him, or the beach, or to work — hell, she’d even wanted to tag along to the bar with him — that one really broke his heart. But regardless of how hard she wrung her little fingers, or how long she drew out the syllables of the word please, he had to deny her. And then came the tears.

For the past five years, he’d been spiraling, ever since he got off that late bus from Zuzu in the dead of winter, packing a scared toddler in his arms. He’d become a black hole, and most of the time, the only thing he worried for was Jas, and how being exposed to him would someday suck the life out of her, once she was old enough to understand it all.

In the early hours of that third or fourth day he’d spent wrapped in dirty sheets and buried in his cheap mattress, Marnie threw open the squeaky door and flew right in, flinging the dusty old curtains open.

Shane groaned as the watery morning light poured in. “Why?” He whined, tugging the sheets up over his head as his hangover began to creep in.

Marnie smoothed her wiry red hair and placed her hands firmly on her hips, her already rosy cheeks staining darker as he glared at her. “Jas is worried about you,” she said curtly. “And the chickens miss their dad.”

It wasn’t like Marnie to be curt. Shane knew all too well that it wasn’t in her nature, and that she’d developed this mask specifically for him — for dealing with him.

“I’m doing my best,” he lied, feeling like a royal piece of shit as his head pounded in emphasis.

Marnie tsked, shaking her head slowly as her eyes cast downward. “This isn’t your best. It’s not even close, actually, Shane.” She blew out a long, long breath. “Which is why you need to get out of bed and take a shower. I’ve just ironed a nice shirt for you, too.”

Shane cracked open an eye, glaring suspiciously at his aunt. “What do I need a nice shirt for?”

She crossed her arms, as if to brace herself. “I got you an interview. At Odd Jobs, with Ian and Sean. Ian was here yesterday picking up your slack, and as it turns out, they’re expecting a busy season, what with the new farmer that just moved in up at old SunnyVale —”

His aunt was a fucking busybody, to put it as politely as possible. “New farmer?” He interrupted, awarding her the glare of both eyes now.

She tilted her head to the side. “The Rosenhaal girl, of course. She moved in earlier this week, and that old farm is a disaster. She’s already contracted those nice boys to pull some weeds and chop some trees.” Marnie shuddered. “And thank Yoba for them! I can’t stand the thought of that poor girl tackling that whole mess all by her little self.”

Shane grunted, raking his hand through his dirty hair in frustration. Marnie was really laying in on thick this morning. “What are you getting at, Marnie?”

She averted her eyes, finding some speck of dust on the ceiling particularly interesting. “Nothing, nothing,” she fussed. “It’s just that I already set up the interview, so if they do happen to need your help up at SunnyVale, you’ll be so close to home! Wouldn’t that be a treat?”

“A real fucking treat,” he bit out, dying inside over the thought of pulling weeds in this goddamned heat. That Ian kid had to have worked no less than fourteen hours a day, too. Shane couldn’t fucking imagine.

“So you’ll go to the interview?” She nudged.

“I’ll go to the interview,” he agreed reluctantly, hauling his stiff body up off the mattress.

Marnie beamed at him, seeing herself out with an irritating grin plastered across her face.

When Shane had hoped to find work in the ridge, this wasn’t really what he had in mind.

Chapter Text

Shane never learned how to tie a fucking tie.

It was an obstacle that left him feeling like a failure of a man every single time he was faced with it, but still, he didn’t learn.

And on this particular day, though Marnie had insisted, he couldn’t bring himself to even put the thing around his fucking neck — not without thinking about last time he wore one, and how the feminine fingers that tied the knot definitely hadn’t belonged to his aunt. But nonetheless, she threaded it through his shirt collar for him, and fastened it way too damn tight. She smoothed out his blue polo shirt and slicked his damp black hair back with her hands. After one more adjustment to his white tie, Marnie was satisfied with her handiwork — though Shane looked like a total dipshit.

“They’re gonna think I look like an asshole,” he informed his aunt flatly. “This isn’t really a polo and white tie kinda job, Marnie.”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest as her brow bunched. “You should look nice for any interview,” she insisted, turning on her heel for the door.

Shane grabbed his hoodie off the rickety dresser as he followed her out, fully planning to put it on as soon as he left the ranch, but as he approached the kitchen, he was surprised to find Jas blocking his path. Today's dress was extra frilly, and her dark buns were frizzy from the humidity. Her small hands were balled at her sides, and her wide eyes were hopeful.

Jas was fully silent, but her face was split into a grin. From a few feet behind Shane’s goddaughter, Marnie said, “Go on, Jas — tell him!”
The child giggled shyly before flinging her arms around his waist. “Shae, you look very handsome!” Jas squealed before retreating, taking off like a jet and laughing all the way to the living room.

For the past five years, Jasmine Rosas was the only thing that made him smile, and his aunt was well aware of that fact as she watched him beam at the child’s disappearing figure. She was becoming an incredible little human, and because of that, he was proud — though he could hardly take an ounce of the credit. Shane only shook his head at his aunt, who’d masterminded the whole day before he’d even climbed out of bed, and then dropped a kiss on her plump cheek before tugging open the front door and wincing against the blinding sun.

**************

It really hadn’t occurred to Shane that in order to get up to the ridge, he had to travel north. Ideally, he would have just walked through SunnyVale and came out right near the bus stop, but at the risk of being spotted, he opted for the long way — through town.

As soon as he passed 1 Willow Lane, he was grateful as fuck that he’d grabbed his hoodie, because there was no way in hot hell that he was about to let these people see the town drunk walk around in some monkey suit. So despite the blazing heat, he tugged the blue sweatshirt over his head and put the hood up.

For a moment, he thought that maybe he’d be lucky enough to avoid his fellow villagers, but then he remembered that it was mid-day, and without anything better to occupy their time, they’d definitely all be out and about. And of course, he was miserably fucking correct.

First, he saw Sam and Sebastian standing by the water's edge. Sebastian took a long drag off his cigarette as he stared Shane down, and Sam pulled his eyes away from his handheld console long enough to wave. Shane ignored them.

Then, there was Penny, huddled under the shady tree beside the measly graveyard. Shane didn’t particularly dislike Jas’s teacher — hell, he even pitied the poor girl at times — but all the same, when she smiled at him, Shane ignored her.

He ignored Jodi, Caroline, and Olivia as he passed by their little congregation. Jodi and Caroline didn’t wave at him, or even acknowledge him, which Shane found pretty fucking amusing considering that he was quite the fucking topic at Tuesday aerobics, according to a distraught Marnie, who’d came home in tears after the other women had pushed her a bit too far on the subject of her burnout nephew.

Olivia, however, side eyed him all across her periphery. Regardless of how much she liked to pretend that she was one in the same with her friends, Shane knew better, because he’d seen that look before. It was the look his mother had given the younger men she’d always had a knack for, and it was the look that some of his teachers had given him in high school. Olivia Jenkins, in all her opulence and glory, wanted Shane’s dick — no matter how ashamed of it she was. And deep down, he knew that — if it came right down to it — he’d totally fuck Victor’s mom. No question about it.

Once he’d made it through town, and all the damned eyes were off him, he arrived at the bus stop and climbed the stairs located in the northeastern corner. Truthfully, Shane had never been to Ridgeside Village by himself. He’d only ever gone to appease Jas, but now, as he rode the sky-lift slowly to the top, he hoped with everything he had that he’d get this fucking job, no matter the fact that he’d very likely die of heat exhaustion before he got his first paycheck.

As soon as Shane reached the ridge, he was glad that Marnie had decided that Odd Jobs was the place for him — only because it was a short distance from the lift, opposed to, say, Jeric’s farm, which sat on the opposite side of the village. Because he rarely made it over to this portion of the valley, he wasn’t eager to see the way people might look at him, especially considering that he could only sink so far into his hoodie.

He found the wood cabin easily and sucked in a deep breath as he pulled the creaky door open. Realistically, he only expected to find Sean, Ian’s lazier counterpart, but to his surprise, three sets of eyes turned toward him as he filled out the doorway.
Sean, Ian, and… her. The Rosenhaal girl.

Close up, she looked different than he’d pictured. At first, he thought that it was because she was more tan than she’d been before, with flaky red skin on the tops of her shoulders and sun stained freckles across her nose and cheeks. But then, Shane marked the cause of his unease — her ears. Her pointed ears. Right then, he knew without asking that she’d moved to the valley from Zuzu City, because nowhere else would offer such cosmetic surgeries. He felt like a fucking idiot as he stood there in silence, staring blatantly at the pink haired fairy girl that had stolen the breath straight out of his chest only a few days ago.

The three of them were lounging at a table nearest the door — the Rosenhaal girl sitting on the surface, and the two men in chairs. Ian, the red headed pack mule, stood.
“Hey! You’re Shane, right? Your aunt told us you’d stop by.” Ian approached Shane cautiously, as if he might get bitten.

Shane was sweating through every article of clothing on his fucking body. “Yeah, that’s me,” he grunted, cringing at the monotone of his voice.

The Rosenhaal girl was still staring right at him as Sean stood and clapped Shane right on the back. “Thanks for coming, man. If you’ve got time, desperation, and four functional limbs, we’ve got work for you.”

Shane barely heard him as he only kept studying the mystery girl, and the way that her brilliant aqua toned eyes didn’t shy away from his gaze. Only then did he notice that, eclipsed partially by her hair, there was a sword strapped across her back. What the fuck?

Ian cleared his throat, and Shane assumed that the silence had finally grown too awkward to ignore. “So, uh, when do you want to start?”

“I’m hired?” Shane asked unenthusiastically, peeling his eyes away from her finally.

“Well, yeah,” Ian started awkwardly. “It’s not like we’ve got a line of candidates out the door or anything. Plus, we’ve just bitten off way more than we can chew,” he explained, throwing her a glance over his shoulder.

Just then, she threw her head back and laughed, and it was one of the ugliest laughs Shane had ever heard in his life.

“Fortunately, you’ll be rewarded handsomely,” she purred in an oddly accented voice, husky and deeper than Shane expected. She threw an arm around either of the men. There was that feeling again — in Shane’s gut. The girl cocked her head to the side, shifting a strand of pink hair into her face as she studied him up close and personal. She took her arms off their shoulders and stepped ahead of them, fixing herself right in front of Shane as she extended a hand. “Litha Rosenhaal,” she declared, granting him a winning smile.

He took her hand, dreading the clamminess of his own, and he was surprised to find that it was rough, and calloused. Surely she wasn’t actually taking up the old man’s farm work?

“Shane,” he said as he shook her hand. He turned to Ian. “So, when do we start?”

He wasn’t necessarily eager to get to work, but he was eager to get the fuck out of this cabin, and to get his hand out of hers. Plus, the sooner he sweated out all the moisture in his body, the sooner he could replace that moisture with cold beer — all in a hard day's work.

Sean and Ian exchanged a look, and Litha only shrugged. Ian checked his watch. “You good to start now?”

Shane nodded his head, and regretted it immediately as the polo shirt underneath his hoodie felt scratchy against his skin. Fuck.

“Let’s go, then, handy lads,” Litha crooned, nipping at Shane’s cheek as she breezed past him.

It was going to be a long fucking day.

*********

SunnyVale farm was even shittier than he’d realized. Maybe Shane had also bitten off more than he could chew.

Ian, who’d apparently taken the reins as foreman, had assigned Shane to an area of the farm that he could only assume had once been designated for livestock. There was a broken down hardwood fence, and shambled remains of a coop and a barn. He’d been pulling weeds, clearing branches, and picking up broken glass.

Before he’d gotten to work, he overheard Litha telling the other men that Lewis had mentioned some issue with vandals. Once again, Shane would put money on it being Sebastian. He’d once seen the kid throw an eggplant against the mountain face as hard as he could. Who does shit like that?

Shane was sweating so profusely that it was dripping right into his eyes. His freshly washed hair was caked against his scalp, and the backs of his ears were sunburnt. His severely out of shape body creaked and groaned with every bend and reach, but still, he worked diligently, ready to get it over with. He paid careful attention to keeping his eyes solely on his work, too, because he was such a fucking glutton for distraction.

After some time, Sean, who was working a field nearest to Shane, straightened his body into a sun salutation, screaming “Shit!” on his exhale.

Litha, who was painting the front porch, stood to attention, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Don’t quit on me yet, laddy! I’ve not gotten my money's worth!” She yelled.

Sean laughed and flicked some sweat off his forehead before he went back to work, and Litha herself returned her attention to her paint. Shane caved and studied her for a moment, hunched over in her cropped white shirt and tattered jeans. Her sword lay at her side, sheathed and tethered to a harness. She sure the shit didn’t look like any farmer he’d ever seen, but she didn’t look like any sort of warrior either. Embarrassingly enough, he was actually kind of curious about her.

Hours passed. Hell, it could have been days, had he not been watching the sun slowly settle into the horizon line — but by the time the last bits of daylight began to flicker out, Shane felt like he was dying. And he hadn’t even taken his hoodie off.

The area he’d been tasked with looked as good as it possibly could have without Robin’s help to restore the buildings — and honestly, Shane hoped Litha would contract Robin to fix them, because he was sick over the idea of any chicken living in a coop so shitty.

By the time that Ian finally called it a night, they were all confident in the work they’d put in, and each member of the team looked like fresh hell as they huddled on the porch — which Shane only just noticed that Litha had painted blue.

“Same time tomorrow?” Litha asked enthusiastically, earning a dramatic groan from Sean.

Ian looked disappointed. “Sorry, Litha, but Sophia has us booked all day tomorrow. It’s her harvest day,” he explained.
“Hm,” she mused. “That sucks.”

“The day after,” Ian promised. “We’re all yours.”

“All mine,” she winked in confirmation, turning toward her slanted front door. “After all your hard work today, may I interest any of you gentlemen in a bit of swilling?”
Sean and Ian looked embarrassed.

“I’ve got an early day tomorrow,” Ian admitted. “I’m helping Pierre before we head over to Sophia’s.”

“And I promised Blair I’d swing by after work,” Sean chimed in.

Litha huffed, fixing her eyes on Shane. “What about you, mystery man? Let a lassie buy ya a drink?”

Shane forgot how to speak for a moment, but fortunately, his shoulders remembered how to shrug.

Litha took it as confirmation, and as she tugged open her front door, she said, “Meet me at the saloon in about forty five?”

“Sure,” he choked out, and with that, she was gone.

Shane breathed a sigh of relief, but he wasn’t sure why. The other two men stared at him as if he’d just turned into a lobster.
Ian’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re a bigger man than I am,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“She’s, like, kind of terrifying,” Ian admitted.

Shane shrugged again, resisting the urge to make a deal of it. “A drink is a drink.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Sean affirmed. “By the way, if you wanna come back here tomorrow, it’s fine. We don’t need your help over at Sophia’s — she books us out on the same day every season.”

For a moment, Shane hated Sean, and the fact that he’d just given him a reason to return.

“Whatever,” Shane grunted as the two men thanked him and headed off.

With every ounce of energy left in his body, he ran back to the ranch, equally terrified and eager to watch the rest of his night unfold.

Chapter Text

Eight beers and one shot deep.

“I’m guessing Zuzu,” Shane declared, smacking the bar's surface with a flat palm and earning a glare from Gus.

Litha was so fucking pretty. Shane hadn’t really noticed the extent of it before, when he was so nervous he could barely think straight, but now that he was feeling tipsy, yeah — she was fucking beautiful, all big blue eyes and full, pouty lips set into a broad, photo-finish white grin. Though her sword and scarf remained, she’d changed into a short, flowy white dress that made her legs look fucking awesome. Shane couldn’t take his eyes off her.

For a moment, he forgot his reservations — and how could he not, when she was looking at him like that, as if he were the only thing left in the universe?

“What makes you think that?” She asked, smirking as her wide eyes narrowed on him.

“Think what?” He slurred, lost in his contemplation of her.

She giggled, and the back of Shane’s neck grew warmer.

“What makes you think I’m from Zuzu city?” Litha reiterated, knocking back her fourth or fifth shot of whisky — Shane had lost count as he slammed another shot of his own. They were drinking from the same bottle that Emily had left on the counter for them, because the bartender knew Shane well — if it was something he could serve himself, leave the bottle, and save yourself twenty trips.

He tugged at his hoodie for a moment, feeling his skin underneath it grow clammy as he drained the rest of his beer just before Emily sat another in front of him. “Your ears,” he supplied. “They are… pointy,” Shane mused.

Her brow bunched, but her smirk stayed. “Aye, my least human attribute leads you to believe that I am from… Zuzu City, of all places?”

Nine beers and two shots deep.

Shane could feel his heartbeat behind his eyeballs. He was so fucking confused. “Least… human? I just thought — where else would have doctors that would do a surgery like that?” He stumbled, finding reprieve at the bottom of his drink.

Litha tipped her head back and laughed, loudly and unabashedly. She didn’t care how much attention it drew, and Shane admired that about her.
“It’s na surgery, laddie,” she said through a breath of laughter. She threw back another shot and Shane noticed then that her accent grew stronger with each drink. “I was born with these ears.”

It was Shane’s turn to laugh, though he wasn’t so loud. “You’re fucking with me,” he insisted, leaning in a bit closer. “Where are you from, then?”

She leaned in as well, and Shane thanked every drop of liquor he’d consumed, because otherwise, he’d be retreating. “Where’re you from?” She countered, tracing her fingers across the back of his hand.

“Fuck that,” he huffed, catching her fingers in his. “I’m from Grampleton. Boring as fuck. Tell me about you.”

She tilted her head, as if it were a dare. “Galdora,” she breathed, much quieter than she’d been. “Castle Village, to be exact.”

Shane felt his eyes go wide. He wasn’t very familiar with the vast continent that lie on the opposite side of the Gem Sea, but he knew that folks had a tendency to be wary of the enchanted soil. “No fucking way.”

She leaned in closer — close enough that he could feel her breath. Her cheeks were as red as the scarf wrapped around her neck. “Way,” she confirmed, holding his eyes with her own.

Ten beers and three shots deep.

His mouth was on hers. He didn’t really know how it got there, but that both of them were so hopelessly wasted that it didn’t make a fucking difference.

They were tangled up with one another in an ungraceful mess of limbs and sweat, her back pressed firmly against a dusty old crate in the saloon's back room as her hands worked to find his belt buckle. He groaned as her fingers found purchase, loosening the flimsy fabric with haste and unfastening his shorts.

His lips were hungry upon her neck as Litha yanked down his boxers and let him spring free, wasting not a second as she fished a blue foiled condom from her bra. She ripped the condom open with her teeth and rolled it over him, a gasp catching in her throat as her hand wrapped around his cock.

Shane felt the corner of his mouth tug upward and immediately scolded himself for feeling smug. He had no idea how the fuck he’d ended up here, but he knew damn well he wasn’t about to let the universe ruin it for him as his hand traveled up her inner thigh, and right to its apex. Shane almost spilled when he realized that she wasn’t wearing underwear beneath that short little dress of hers.

He lifted his eyes to hers for confirmation, and she looked entirely fucking satisfied with herself. Shane wasn’t sure why, but he loved it — loved knowing that she’d planned it all out.

Somewhere deep in his whisky soaked core, a wave of confidence overtook him, and without another thought, he wrapped his hands around the backs of her soft thighs and hauled her up against him, transferring one hand to the small of her back once she was situated.

She slung an arm across his shoulders and guided him into herself, whimpering softly when the tip of his cock reached the very back of her walls. Litha buried her face in his neck, stifling her breathy moans against his skin as he slammed into her. Shane wasn’t sure what had come over him, but he was very ungentle. He felt like an asshole for it, despite her legs being wrapped tightly around his waist and her nails that dug into his flesh as he gave her all that he had in some crude display of strained breathing and wet skin colliding loudly and hungrily.

She tipped her head skyward as her body straightened and a ragged breath shook her entirety, and Shane seized the opportunity to get his mouth back on her neck, enthralled by the smell of her, and dismayed that he was limited to only the taste of her neck and clavicles in the cramped, inconvenient public space. Shane found his release moments after Litha had, breathing hard against her skin and, for a moment, feeling overwhelmingly dizzy as she tangled a hand in his hair and drug his mouth back to hers.

Litha unwrapped her legs from his waist and planted her feet back on the floor. She looked up at him. “Am I special, or are you just the stranger fucking type?” She purred through swollen lips, her hand still balled up in his hair.

Shane scoffed, studying her face, and the way that her skin seemed oddly backlit, faintly glowing a pale gold. “Only when the stranger in question has pointy ears and a weird accent,” he supplied, removing the condom and tying it off before righting his pants and boxers.

Truthfully, Shane wasn’t generally one to fuck a total stranger in public — especially not a sword toting Galdoran stranger — but something about her made his spine tingley and his cheeks hot. And while he did feel a little ashamed of himself, he’d enjoyed every single second of the too-short encounter. Shane was no stranger to feeling like a filthy, depraved degenerate, but goddamn, he’d never gotten off on it — not until tonight, that is.

“Aye, I’ll consider myself lucky, then,” she said mischievously, snatching the tied condom from his hand and jamming it into her bra, right where she’d taken it from initially.
Shane was taken aback. “Wha —?”

She mashed an index finger against his lips. “Shhhh, dinnae worry about it,” she soothed, looking deeply into his eyes with unwavering focus. “Go back to the bar, sit down, and forget this happened.”

Shane was aroused, definitely, but he was confused more than anything. “I’ll go back to the bar, no problem, but if you think I’m gonna forget this, you’re fucking nuts.”
It was Litha’s turn to be confused, apparently. She averted her eyes. “Ah, okay —,” she said quickly. “I willnae forget, either.”

She winked, and without another word, Litha Rosenhaal was gone.

What the fuck.

************
As he walked home from the bar, stumbling with each step he took, he wished that he had even one friend he could call to recount his night to. He had no fucking idea how, or why he’d ended up in the clutches of Litha Rosenhaal, but each time his sodden brain tried to process it all, he only ended up with more questions.

As he sorted through his head for literally anyone that would welcome a late night phone call from him, his heart strings got caught on one particular fading smile, belonging to one particular person that would be one hundred percent invested in Shane’s recent mishaps. But he pushed the thought from his brain as quickly as he could manage, because that smile… it was fading for a reason.

It was fading because, after all these years, he’d somehow began to forget Dray’s face, though he saw it on Jas every single fucking day. Maybe he had the alcohol induced atrophy to thank, or maybe the universe had stolen those memories away only to spite him, but either way, he fucking hated himself for letting any given detail about Dray Rosas slip away from him.

Chapter Text

Shane met Dray Rosas and Annemarie Plimpton his freshman year of college — his first day at Zuzu University, actually.

Before life had fucked him hard and raw, Shane had been a formidable gridball player. He was quick, mean, clever, and build like a fucking brick house — all the necessary components for a force of nature out on the field. All through high school, everyone had known: someday, Shane Slater would go pro. And sure enough, senior year came fast, and of course, the recruiters eyes were all for Shane. He’d barely even tried, honestly.

His first day at ZZU was like a fucking dream. Shane walked through the main hall exuding big dick energy, complete with a deep blue letterman jacket and some dark shades. Back then, he thought he was the hottest shit on the planet, and no one could — or would dare to — tell him otherwise. Shane was the master of his universe, and everyone around him was simply a pawn.

There weren’t classes the first day, so rather than touring the campus like he should have, he headed straight for his dorm, eager to set up a mini fridge and stock it with as much beer as it could hold. Even then, his priorities hadn’t been straight.

The crumpled map in his hand wasn’t serving him worth a damn as he blindly roamed the massive campus, face buried in the overcomplicated rendering of the school. Dorm Hall A, B, C…

“Hey!” A feminine voice demanded as Shane’s body clattered into hers.

He clutched the map hard in one fist, jerking his hand down to his side, bracing himself for an argument — because with a tone like that, someone was definitely picking a fight. But then, he looked up — and he couldn’t talk. Couldn’t even ask her what the fuck her problem was, despite the fact that he’d been the one not paying attention.

She was, easily, the most attractive person Shane had ever seen in his life. She was fair skinned, with big, bright green eyes and long, pale gold hair, which was pulled away from her face by a thin plaid headband. Her round pink lips were set into a frown and her high cheeks were blushed. Shane knew that he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. They didn’t make women like this in Grampleton — not even fucking close.

“Are you fucking impaired?” She snapped, craning her neck to get a closer look at him as she smoothed the light blue tube top that stopped right above her belly button.

The gears in his brain began to turn. “Ah, no — not really. I’m just lost.”

She crossed her arms. “We’re all lost. That’s no excuse to not watch where you’re going.”

Angel Face was being a real asshole. Honestly. If she hadn’t been so damned pretty, Shane would have long told her to get lost. His bravado was begging him to say something cross, but he just couldn’t do it.

“I’m sorry,” he said gently, like he was soothing a wild animal. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

She scoffed, but then her expression softened. “No, you didn’t hurt me,” she admitted, loosing a sigh. “I don’t mean to be rude — I’m just out of sorts right now. I’m not used to feeling so helpless, but this place is so damn big —”

“Don’t mention it,” Shane insisted. “Like you said, we’re all lost.” He smoothed out the map in his hands. “What are you looking for?” He asked as he angled the pamphlet toward her.

“Dorm Hall D,” she mumbled, studying the wrinkled paper over his shoulder.

“Hey, me too!” Shane flashed her his best winning smile — the smile that had brought every girl at Grampleton Senior High School to their knees.

Angel Face was unphased — seemingly impervious to his undeniable charm. “Great, then let’s get going.” She slung her duffel bag from one shoulder to the other. “What’s your name, big shot?” She looked him up and down once or twice. “I assume you’re here on a gridball scholarship?”

“Shane,” he grumbled after being knocked down several pegs. “And yeah, I’m here for gridball.”

She extended him a slim hand, each of its fingers adorned by twinkling rings. “Annemarie Plimpton.”

************

It took Shane and Annemarie less than ten minutes to navigate to Dorm Hall D, where each of them found their respective rooms and Shane thanked her for her help before they parted ways.

When Shane unlocked the door to his new dorm, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find. A palace, maybe — though he had no reason to expect that, other than his grand vision of moving on up in the world after vacating his piece of shit dad’s piece of shit apartment. But, of course, the dorm looked just like a little apartment. Smaller than he was used to, but cleaner. It was a decent start.

There was a bed on either side of the room, two small closets, two desks, a round table with two chairs, and one mini fridge. One side of the room was already scarcely decorated — a black blanket on the bed and some nerdy posters on the wall, but other than that, the whole room was a pretty bleak monochrome. And lastly, there was a lanky boy lounging on the bed to the left, his face buried in a laptop screen while a headset rested over his ears. His head was bobbing to some unheard beat.

Shane only stood awkwardly in the doorway for a moment. “Hey,” he managed, clearing his throat loudly.

The kid looked startled, yanking his headset off and slamming his laptop shut. He scrambled to his feet. “Hey, man! How’s it going?” He crossed the room toward Shane and grabbed his hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “The name’s Dray. Welcome to ZZU!”

Shane’s new roommate was a giant nerd. He didn’t even need to investigate to figure that one out — because the surface qualities told him everything he needed to know, starting with the ocarina tattooed on his wrist. Dray was tall — probably at least four or five inches taller than Shane — but he was all skin and bones. His long, curly black hair hung around his face and shoulders, and his deeply tanned skin was the same color of his eyes. Dray wore a tight, illegible metal band t-shirt and baggy ripped jeans, held up only by a studded black belt. Out of every fucking guy on campus, this was the one Shane had to be stuck with.

“Thanks. I’m Shane,” he introduced himself awkwardly, stepping past Dray to dump the contents of his bag onto the empty bed.

As Shane unpacked, they got to talking, and to his complete surprise, Dray was the fucking coolest — and essentially a genius, all things considered. Shane learned that his roommate was from the Fern Islands, and had come to ZZU on a technological scholarship, after building a series of very useful robots in high school. Shane didn’t understand a damn word Dray said in regards to his major, but nonetheless, he listened intently.

Shane had been dealt his fair share of advantages in life — granted, he’d been dealt just as many disadvantages — but never would he have imagined that, on his very first day of college, he’d not only meet the best friend he’d ever have, but also the angel faced girl he’d come to fall in love with.

*************

Senior year came and went. Before Shane knew it, Dray, Annemarie, and himself were walking across that scuffed up stage in goofy hats and robes, accepting their certificates and waving to the crowd. And Shane did wave, despite the fact that not a single person had come to see him graduate college.

The three of them had already lined up an apartment together in the heart of downtown Zuzu, because at this point, they’d become inseparable, and as they were searching for housing, they hadn’t even considered parting. Shane couldn’t picture life without them. He couldn’t picture how he’d ever lived without them to begin with.

When Shane and Annemarie first began growing close, it had been simple, and innocent. She’d come to his games and cheer him on from the stands, usually sitting next to Dray, who fucking hated gridball, but loved his best friend. But after some time, it went from Annemarie cheering in the stands only to go straight back to her dorm afterward, to Annemarie joining the cheer team just to be closer to the field, and then slipping off to the bathrooms with Shane during half time.

Ever since he’d gotten the balls to admit that he was in love with her, they’d been fucking like rabbits — nonstop. Bathrooms, the library, Annemarie’s car, either of their dorms, against a tree in the woods — it didn’t matter. Wherever he could have her, he would have her. It was really that simple — until the night that Shane had come home from practice earlier than usual after rolling his ankle, only to find Dray’s dick in his girlfriend's mouth.

He’d been fucking furious. So furious, in fact, that his body had forgone his hair-trigger temper, and opted straight for crying. It would be many, many years until Shane finally realized that he wasn’t actually furious in that moment at all — but rather completely fucking heart broken.

That night, the three of them had a long, long talk. They sat in Shane and Dray’s dorm until the sun came up, and each of them cried. For hours on end, they talked about love, and feelings, and all sorts of shit that Shane had never dared breathe a word of out loud. With each painful admission and heartfelt reply, Shane took a shot of whisky, and by the time that his best friend and his girlfriend admitted that they’d been going at it for months, Shane was fucking trashed, and the tears just wouldn’t stop coming.

He loved them. He loved them both more than he’d ever loved any other thing or person — yet all the same, they loved each other, just as they loved Shane. When his first alarm went off, informing him that he had class in an hour, he was lying on the floor next to Annemarie with his head buried in her chest, and Dray was lying on her other side, his face pressed against her neck. They were all red eyed and exhausted, agreeing to exempt themselves from classes that day after the night they’d had. Shane didn’t understand how they could possibly imagine they’d had as shitty of a night as he had, but at that point, he didn’t give a shit. Anything to keep Annemarie in his arms for even a second longer.

Shane himself couldn’t bear the idea of functioning for at least the next few days, and the feeling only grew stronger once he finally broke down and agreed to share her, because losing all of her had to be worse than losing part of her. All it had really taken to get him to agree to the resolution were a few sweet words and promises of a brighter future. And Shane, being a broken child and a fucking sucker for her love, had fallen for it with little to no resistance.

He’d chosen the cowardly path, despite his discomfort, and looking back on that night, it was the first time he’d drank himself to sleep. He’d done it every night since then, too.

**************

Time passed, and Shane felt better. The situation that he’d been coerced into actually hadn’t turned out half as bad as he imagined it would, because he eventually came to realize that he loved them both enough to only want to see them happy. And they were — happy. They all were.

Six months after they moved into their apartment in downtown Zuzu, Annemarie began vomiting often. Every morning, right after she crawled out of bed, like clockwork. She’d have her face in the toilet bowl for no less than ten minutes each morning, and after a week, Shane sent Dray to the corner store for a pregnancy test.

They had all been careful, for the most part. Shane and Dray both pulled out, and Annemarie had been taking birth control pills — inconsistently. But even then, their angel-faced girlfriend knew something was amiss, because when Dray returned with a bag full of piss sticks, Annemarie only shook her head — not in denial, but out of guilt. Because if she was pregnant…

Shane and Dray both sat on their knees in front of the toilet as Annemarie did the deed. She wouldn’t look at either of them — not at Shane as he held her hands, and not at Dray as he rubbed her shoulder. After one minute of eerie silence had passed, she sucked in a breath and turned over the strip.

Shane couldn’t really breathe, and he could feel his pulse throughout his whole body, anticipatory like a cricket’s chirp. For what felt like hours, Annemarie said absolutely nothing.

“Well?” Dray prompted, glancing sidelong at Shane.

She only stared at the strip as a tear slipped down her cheek. “Fuck,” she whispered.

And just like that, Shane’s axis tilted. He was going to be a dad. Even if, biologically, the child might not be his — he was still going to be a dad. He looked up at Annemarie, and over at Dray, and though his life had only become more confusing than ever since meeting them, he was grateful.

Shane’s partners, on the other hand… the blood had drained from their faces, despite the smile that had crept over his own.

Annemarie looked at Shane as if he’d grown an extra eye. “Are you happy with yourself, Shae?” She snapped.

Shane’s smile dried up. “I — what?” He glanced over at Dray, who looked just as confused. “There’s no way for you to know which of us is to blame, babe. Don’t pin it all on me,” he pleaded.

Even as the palpable rage overtook Annemarie, Shane knew that it was only because she couldn’t very well argue against his point. In terms of their sex lives, they pretty well went at it every day. One on one sex certainly wasn’t a scarcity, but with the frequency at which Annemarie put out for the both of them… there was just no way to even fathom a guess as to who had gotten her pregnant. Unless they somehow found a way to shell out tons of cash for some fancy testing, only time would tell — and Shane was fine with that. He knew that, even if the baby was Dray’s, he’d love it like his own.

But judging by the fact that Dray couldn’t seem to find a single word, and Annemarie still appeared as though she’d go postal at any given moment, Shane coined a guess that it was about to be a very, very long nine months.

***********

Five months later, the three of them were huddled into a tiny ultrasound room, and Annemarie’s belly was covered in some weird blue goo. Shane couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen as the staticky sonogram blipped and shifted, even as his partners spoke in hushed tones at his back. Right then, all he cared for was the image on the screen, and what it meant for his life.

Since Shane was eight years old, all he’d ever wanted was to play gridball. He’d sit at the foot of his father’s creaky recliner and map out plays on the television screen as the helmeted men dashed and pummeled skillfully. He’d found it endlessly fascinating, the way that their bodies seemed so in tune with their brains. To Shane, it was more than just a game — it was his future.

He’d never really been the brightest bulb, but he’d sure as hell been the most ambitious. All the areas in which Shane lacked, he’d work extra, extra hard, because when he’d look at his father, a shell of a man hollowing out a depression in his recliner, Shane knew that he never wanted that for himself. Even during all the nights that he’d later spend drinking himself to sleep, he thought back to his father, and reminded himself that he was better — so much better.

That is, until he realized that he wasn’t.

The night that Shane had found Dray and Annemarie lost in one another, he’d realized just how much like his father he’d truly become — and in such a short period of time, nonetheless — because not only was he a sodden drunk, but he was also a fucking coward.

As Shane studied that sonogram like the finest piece of art in the classiest museum, listening to each beat of the baby's heart like a quick drum beat, he felt something bubble up in his chest. At first, he thought it to be fear, but a short time later… he knew it was purpose. Even if he’d never go pro, he’d still have a purpose. This child.

“It’s a girl,” he heard the nurse mumble as she surveyed the screen carefully. He marked the confusion and judgement behind her gaze as she looked to Annemarie, whose eyes were lit up like Winter’s Day morning, and then to the men who held either of her hands. “Which one of you young men is the father?”

Annemarie’s face fell. Shane couldn’t bear the sight of it. He shrugged, putting on his most confident air. “We both are.”

The nurse said nothing else as the black and white images printed from the machine. She handed them to Annemarie.

“Jasmine,” Annemarie whispered, tracing the images with her fingers as Shane marked every crease and freckle on her lovely face. He knew right then that the child would be beautiful, because how could she not be, with a mother like that?

The three of them had agreed — the baby would be given a last name only after the results of the paternity test came back, but he hadn’t considered the reality of his awful father’s last name being tacked onto such a beautiful, innocent little thing. The thought made him so sick that he decided right then — if the paternity test came back in his favor, he’d prefer his daughter to have her mother’s last name.

************

It was four o’clock in the morning on a particularly humid Summer 4th, and Annemarie was screaming so fucking loudly that Shane feared the windows might shatter. It was time.

Shane and Dray loaded their swollen girlfriend into the rickety piece of shit car that the three of them shared, and Annemarie begged Shane to ride in the backseat with her. He could see the pain on Dray’s face, but all the same, he obliged her. All the way to the hospital, Shane held her tight as she nestled herself between his legs, with her sweaty, tear stained face pressed against his chest. For just a blip of a second, as the love of his life writhed in his arms, Shane came to realize that the person he’d become was no one he recognized. He was light years away from the brash, bravado soaked boy that had swaggered his way through the majority of his life. And as much as the notion of mortality terrified him to no ends, he was so fucking happy.

He was happy as the two of them hauled her in through the sliding hospital doors, blasted by the smell of hand sanitizer and latex as the staff stormed them and forced Annemarie into a wheelchair.

He was happy as he and his best friend stood on either side of her, clutching her hands as she pushed and brayed and cursed, promising them both a brutal death if she made it out alive.

He was even happy when he saw his baby’s face for the very first time, and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he had not sired her, for it was a mirror image of Dray’s face that stared back at him, screaming, slimy, and red cheeked.

Dray insisted that Shane cut the cord, so he did — but when the nurse asked for the child’s name to write on her nursery card, the three of them froze.

Annemarie’s eyes darted between the two men she loved. “Jasmine Marie,” she told the nurse shyly. “You can put Plimpton on the card until we —”

“Rosas,” Shane cut in, unable to tear his eyes from the tan, dark eyed child in his girlfriend’s arms. Shane’s eyes were blue. Annemarie’s were green. “Jasmine Marie Rosas.”

Dray and Annemarie only stared at him, and the look on both of their faces… it was relief. He wouldn’t make them say it — wouldn’t bother shelling out the cash only to prove something he already knew to be true.

He was happy, even as he watched Dray and Annemarie sign the birth certificate.

Chapter Text

“Shane!” He heard Marnie call from a distance.

He woke up lying flat on his back, a splotchy storm cloud blooming in the sky above him, promising an imminent downpour. “Yeah?” He snapped, pushing up off the dock on which he’d fallen asleep the night before, pining for a time when life hadn’t been such a fucking mess. He’d dreamt of Annemarie, even though a loose strand of pink hair on his hoodie sleeve betrayed her memory.

“What are you doing out there, son? You’re going to get wet!” Marnie fussed. Shane spotted his aunt craning her neck out the front door, cupping her hands around her mouth as she shouted.

He climbed to his feet, and it was no small effort. The dock under his feet creaked ominously, threatening to dump him into the water. Despite his daily hangover, his head felt slightly less fuzzy — but even then, he still couldn’t work out his encounter with Litha. Had it not been for the strand of pink hair and her scent that still lingered on his skin, he would have simply chalked it all up to a fever dream.

Even in the midst of his lingering confusion, he couldn’t deny the way she’d made him feel — or the lightning that shot up his spine at the mere thought of her. He’d felt a similar way once before, when he first began falling in love with Annemarie, but with a grave amount of clarity, he was certain that the sensation swirling all throughout his body was not love. Lust, maybe — but not love.

Shane all but dragged himself across the yard and straight through the cauliflower patches, disregarding the vines that he somehow managed not to trip over. Marnie watched him carefully as he approached the door, concern creasing her weathered face.

“Shane, I — ” she began, her brow bunching as he swept past her.

“Save it, Marnie. I know —” Shane stopped dead in his tracks as he passed the threshold, only to find Litha Rosenhaal lounging against the service counter, wearing her signature high pigtails, some pale denim overalls that had certainly seen better days, and of course, her stupid fucking sword. The feeling might have been misplaced, but Shane definitely had beef with her. His gut flipped over as she tilted her head to the side, and couldn’t tell if it was a challenge, or an inquiry. Fuck.

He was completely dumbfounded, and just as he had the previous day at Odd Jobs, he only stared at her — and to his surprise, she stared right back, just as confused as he. Shane wondered if Litha could feel the same tension — namely the sensation that tingled at the base of his spine, begging him to close the distance between them, despite the fact that the sight of her presently annoyed the piss out of him. He barely even noticed Jas rushing toward him like a freight train, her arms flung wide.

He picked up his daughter, balancing her on his hip as she threw her little arms around his neck and pressed a kiss against his cheek. As usual, he couldn’t help the smile that Jas put on his face.

“Ms. Litha is here for some chicks, Shane. I was wondering if you could help her get acquainted up at SunnyVale?” Marnie inquired, slicing the silence like a knife as she turned her eyes toward Litha. “Shane is great with the chickens,” she assured her.

Both Shane and Litha snapped to attention. Shane cleared his throat. “Yeah, fine.” Litha beamed at him as he hugged Jas tightly and lowered her back to the ground. “Go play,” he told the puffy haired little girl, who wore pigtails similar to the mystery woman before him. “I’ll be back soon, and then we’re gonna go to the beach, okay?”

Jas’s eyes lit up, and her little legs began dancing. “Yes! Thank you, Shae! I’m gonna wear my new swimsuit!” Jas took off down the hall, skipping and giggling the whole way.

Marnie smiled after her lovingly, until her form disappeared into her bedroom. “Go on and grab Ms. Litha four chicks, please, Shane,” his aunt requested, stepping behind the counter and clicking away at the register.

As Shane sulked off toward the side door to the barn, he saw Litha fish a heavy looking pouch of gold from her pack. Every single time he looked at her, he understood her even less.

**********

“Shane,” she said finally, her strange lilt wrapping around each consonant in his name like a fresh cotton sheet. “I know you must’ve some… questions for me.”

They’d been walking northbound, up toward Litha’s rundown excuse for a farm. The rain had started as soon as they left the ranch, and with each step they took, Shane’s clothes grew more damp, and his brain grew more concerned for the fate of the four little chicks that shuffled about in the small ventilated box he carried in his hands.

The sound of her voice suddenly irritated him to no end. Not because he didn’t like the sound of it, but because each stupid, mystical thing she’d said the night before had been playing on a loop in his head since he left her presence.

“I hardly know you,” he bit out, his temper and irritation getting the best of him. “Why are you talking to me?”

He kept his head down, his eyes averted from her as much as he could manage — but even then, he saw her eyebrows shoot into her hairline out of his periphery. She stopped dead in her tracks, and for some stupid fucking reason, Shane stopped with her. She grabbed one of his shoulders, and propelled his body to face her until she had the leverage to catch his other shoulder as well.

Even with her limp, soaking wet hair, her sunburned cheeks, and her scowl, she was still so stupidly fucking attractive. Shane marked the way that the rain had turned her white shirt translucent, though the bib of her overalls covered her well enough. Just briefly, he wondered… no.

“What are you doing?” Shane demanded, wiggling within her surprisingly firm grasp.

“Shane,” she demanded, her voice bizarrely compelling. “Stand still, or you’ll hurt the damn chickens.” She inched her face slightly closer to his, and all he could do was oblige her as he fixated on her glittering irises. He’d never seen eyes like hers — not in movies, not with colored contacts. Never.

Some small, very dormant sector of his brain thrashed and roared against whatever iron tight hold she had on his psyche, but his gaze was fixed, and his feet were immovable. In all the cold, hollow expanses of the universe, there was only Litha Rosenhaal, and her eyes that swirled like the deepest enchanted spring.

“Come to my cabin, help me tend to the chickens, and just be fucking nice to me, yeah?” Litha requested, her voice sounding oddly distant, and soft. “I just want to know who you are, laddy. It’s really so simple.”

Shane marked the strain marring her entrancing features. She must have been fucking insane, to think he’d go so easily — “Okay,” he heard himself reply, in a voice that didn’t sound like his own.

She pressed a cool palm against his cheek, and he watched as she closed her eyes, fascinated by the way that the water droplets rolled off of her long lashes. When she opened them again, Shane felt different — spacey.

“Well, let’s keep on, then. We don’t want those little birdies getting wet.” Litha looped an arm through his, and off they went.

Shane was blissfully prepared to meet whatever doom might await him inside that ramshackle little cabin of hers. So long as her skin didn’t leave his, he was content — peaceful — a feeling he hadn’t felt, well… ever.

And of course, being a glutton for his vices, he lapped up the reprieve she somehow offered him like fresh milk.

If he wasn’t careful…

*************

“Put the birds wherever,” Litha said as she slung the front door open and discarded her wet boots on the porch.

“What? No,” Shane insisted, slightly horrified. “They can’t just go anywhere. They need to be in a coop.”

“Shane,” she sighed, rubbing a hand across her brow. “I didnae mean you should go dump them in the toilet. Robin is coming to spruce up my coop tomorrow morn, but until then, I’ve made them up a nice box. Marnie has a tendency to be away from her counter, so I wanted to get them today, while I knew her shop was open. For now, just put them down on the table, there.” She pointed to a frail looking dinette in the corner of her dusty kitchen. “You and I need to talk.”

Litha gave him a pointed look as she floated off into what he could only assume was her bedroom. Shane took a moment to look around, contemplating his escape, locating any potential exits. The cabin was tiny, and poorly insulated. The plywood floors groaned under his weight, and the humid spring air seeped in through each of the cracks in the windows and walls.

He sat the chicks down on the table gently, and noticed that the kitchen consisted only of a hot plate, a microwave, a yellow stained mini fridge, and a cracked porcelain sink. There was a chipped red hutch lined with several ambiguous mason jars containing milky liquids, and small glass tincture bottles with faded labels. Shane marked one jar that appeared to contain small animal bones, and a wave of nausea overtook him as he looked down at the box full of chicks.

“So how do I care for them?” Litha whispered into his ear.

“Fuck me!” Shane nearly jumped out of his skin. He had no idea when she’d walked up, or how the fuck she got there so silently, but when he turned to face her, he was derailed.

Litha had changed out of her sodden farm clothes, and in their place was… nothing. Well — not nothing, but next to it. She wore a small, lacy black bra, and a stringy black thong with a symbol printed on the front of it — a warp rune, Shane recognized. Fuck.

Just as quickly as he’d forgotten about it, it was back — the tingling, electric sensation at the base of his spine. In an instant, his hands were around her slim waist, and her fingers were tangled in his hair as their lips met in a messy and animalistic fashion.

She pulled away from him, for just a fraction of a second. “This time, I don’t want you to forget me,” she said breathily, running her tongue across the stubbly length of his jaw as he cupped her fucking incredible ass in both of his hands and pulled her body closer.

“I didn’t forget about you,” he mumbled against her lips. “Not even close.”

Litha raised an eyebrow as she smirked against his lips. “Good. I didn’t really want you to.”

Shane had no fucking idea what she meant, but he couldn’t give a fuck less as she backed him into a wooden folding chair and he collapsed into it. For a moment, she only stood in front of him as she unclipped her bra and let it slip down her shoulders, and then stepped out of her underwear.

Shane went wide eyed as he lounged in the chair, letting his gaze slip over her perfect body, honing in on her round, puffy pink nipples, her wide hips and soft thighs, and lastly, the smattering of pale hair where those thighs met. He didn’t know much, but he knew he wanted his nose there — right now. He moved to grab for her, and she gave him a little smile — followed by a foot straight to the center of his chest, pushing him back into his seat. She might as well have handcuffed him, and at this point, he wouldn’t have really minded.

“Do you want me, Shane?” She asked in that special voice of hers, which seemed to be reserved specifically for reducing him to ash.

He could only manage a nod as his hand traveled up the smooth length of the leg that kept him pressed into his seat. His eyes lingered between her legs, like a starving mut before a five star feast. He couldn’t stand the tension — the anticipation. He’d prefer being lit on fire to edging, but something about the look on Litha’s face assured him that she’d rather see him squirm.

She followed his eye line downward, and she chuckled lowly. “You want to taste, don’t you?”

Another nod, his wits coming apart at the seams.

“Not yet, love. Someday soon — but not today.” She winked, dropping to her knees before him. “Today, I need you functional.”

“What does that mean?” He asked feverishly, sucking in a breath as her skilled fingers unbuckled his frayed belt.

“Shhhhh,” she crooned as she tugged his boxers down his hips. His already hard cock sprung free right in front of her face, and just like the night before, he heard a small gasp leave her.

Fuck all the intricacies of the stupid goddamn universe — Shane felt proud as fuck, and doubly so as his hand drifted toward the hair at the nape of her neck, and his fingers gripped tight. She gave him a daring smile before her lips descended upon his tip, and her tongue flicked once over the top of it.

A tremor shook Shane’s entire body. Just as the previous night, he knew he wouldn’t last long — but someday soon enough, he’d make it up to her tenfold. If she’d only give him another chance to, he’d fuck her hard enough that she couldn’t sit properly the next day — hard enough that she’d come around pining for more.

She started slow at first, just barely closing her lips around him, applying a gentle, teasing suction. Every so often, she’d peek up through her dark lashes to look at him, and each time, it would nearly force his undoing. But very much to his own surprise, Shane held himself together as she took him deeper and deeper, and the drool that dripped off her lips began falling to the floor as he hit the back of her throat.

After several long, long minutes of writhing in his seat, Shane finally felt his release preparing to overtake him. His body began to shudder and twitch. “Fuck, Litha — fuck, I’m about to come —”

Abruptly, she stopped. Litha wiped the saliva off her lips with the back of her wrist.

Shane felt like he’d die, right there, on the spot. “Please,” he choked out, marking the smirk on her lips that assured him she was proud of her handiwork.

“Please, what?” She prompted, running her finger down the length of him.

Shane had played this game before — he’d never been on this end of it, granted, but all the same, he knew how to play. He gathered all the courage left in his weakened, spent body. “Please, Litha, let me come in that sweet mouth of yours,” he growled, lifting a hand to her face where he cupped her chin and used his thumb to trace her lip line.

For the very first time, Shane caught Litha looking flustered. Had he finally managed to take her by surprise? Shane had never pictured himself enjoying any variety of submission, but as her lips wrapped around his cock yet again, he decided he’d gladly switch, if this was what his future held.

Within what seemed like less than a minute, she’d found his sweet spot, and his hand held her neck firmly in place as he spilled right down the back of her throat and she gagged and coughed against his length.

Though Shane had no intention of returning to SunnyVale Farm that day, it appeared that fate had other plans in mind — and for once, he actually didn’t hate it.

*********

“So what do they eat?” Litha asked as she loomed over the chicken box, wrapped up in Shane’s Joja hoodie and feigning casualty as if she hadn’t just earned herself an Olympic gold medal in the championship dick suck-off.

Just as he’d been after their previous encounter, Shane was really fucking exhausted. He fixed himself and stepped up behind her, looking over her shoulder as she lifted the lid off. “Chickens are omnivores. They like bugs, and grains. My Charlie really loves fruit.”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Who’s Charlie?”

Suddenly, Shane felt shy. “Oh — Charlie is my chicken. My, uh, pet chicken.”

Litha shrugged. “Seems like as good of a pet as any. I suppose I should get one of my own, since I’m a farmer now, and all.” Oddly, Litha sounded resentful, and it piqued Shane’s curiosity.

“I take it that farming wasn’t your dream?” He asked casually, doing his best to pretend that he didn’t care.

She laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “No, Shane, it wasn’t.”

“Well, then why are you here?” He hadn’t meant for it to sound brash, but it definitely came out that way.

“Because if I had to work for Joja for one more day, I would have offed myself right there at that fucking desk,” she said matter of a factly, replacing the lid to the chicken box and making her way toward the ugly green couch in the corner of the room.

She flopped down onto it, and Shane followed suit. “You worked for Joja too?” He asked, feeling his eyes widen.

“In Zuzu City, aye.”

“I thought you said you weren’t from Zuzu.”

“I’m not. I was born in Galdora, but I was also banished from Galdora,” she explained with a deep sigh, placing both hands over her eyes as she pressed herself against the back of the couch.

“You’re pretty fucking crytic, you know?” He asked as a heavy yawn rumbled through him.

“More than you know, sweet boy.”

Shane couldn’t fight against the ten ton weights that tugged his eyelids shut, but if he had to fall asleep at all, at least the last sight he saw was pale haired Litha, looking utterly regular with her immaculate body draped languidly over the couch cushions beside him.

Chapter Text

He was dreaming — he had to be.

Shane was reclining on the same ratty green couch in the same dilapidated cabin, but the woman to his left, cocooned in the same blue Joja hoodie at least three or four sizes too large for her, wasn’t Litha — but rather a crystal clear image of Annemarie, who was heavily pregnant and smiling at him slyly.

“Come a little closer, Shae,” she beckoned, her slim fingers walking across the cushion that separated them. “I have a secret to tell you.”

He knew it wasn’t real. With every fiber of his being, he knew — yet he couldn’t resist the all-encompassing urge to inch closer to her. Shane might have been fascinated by Litha — maybe even a bit in lust with her — but Annemarie was, and still remained, the only woman he’d ever loved. And as he rested his head upon her swollen chest and felt her familiar fingers graze through his hair, he knew that love would likely never subside.

He placed his palm gently under the curvature of her belly, just as he had all those years ago. In the earlier days, before Jas was born, he’d actually hoped that, biologically, she would be his. It wasn’t until only weeks before her birth that it had occurred to him — he’d be best off to never actually sire a child of his own. It wouldn’t be fair to bring a child into this world that would inevitably inherit his habits — his means for coping. Shane couldn’t bear the concept of some innocent little human being doomed before it even took its first steps, marred by his genetics, and drowned by his vices.

He looked up at Annemarie’s face, and she looked peaceful — sleepy, even. “I hope she’s yours, Shae,” she whispered, her eyes remaining blissfully closed as her head rested against the cushion, chin tilted toward the ceiling.

For months on end, Shane had hoped to hear her say those very words. Not out of spite toward Dray — but only because he wanted to feel special. But Annemarie, ever the diplomat, never dared play favorites between the two men at her disposal. At times — primarily those of anger — Shane toyed with the idea of it all being a power play in her eyes. But once all had been righted, he’d realize that he was entirely wrong, because despite her mildly outlandish sensibilities, Annemarie was all love — so it only made sense that she had so much of that love to give.

He blinked — only once — and when his eyes opened again, Annemarie was gone, and in her place was only Litha. In a snap second, Shane realized he was awake, and as he glanced down at the flat plane of her stomach, he was jarred. He jolted away from her as an amused expression crossed her face.

“What the fuck?” He breathed, sinking back into the opposite end of the couch.

She shrugged, but Shane didn’t buy it. “You were having a dream, I think,” Litha said casually.

Oh, fuck. “What time is it?” Shane demanded, glancing frantically around for a clock, but only finding a sheet covered window which emitted no light.

Litha shrugged again. “Late, I bet.”

“Shit,” Shane groaned, pushing out of his seat. “I have to go. Now.”

“Why?” Litha whined, stretching out like a cat.

He raked a hand through his hair. He just didn’t fucking understand her. “Because I was supposed to take my kid to the fucking beach today.”

Litha stood and removed Shane’s hoodie. She handed it over to him, a smirk playing at her lips as he gawked. “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

He snatched the sweatshirt out of her waiting hand and scowled hard as he tugged it over his head. It smelled fucking delightful, and he hated it. “Keep the chicks warm. Make sure they have food, and blankets, and space to fuck around. I’ll be back tomorrow after Robin fixes that piece of shit coop,” he grumbled, making for the door.

Litha granted him an awkward little salute. “G’night, Shane. Be careful out there — you never know what’s lurking in the dark.”

“Goodnight, Litha,” Shane said, letting the screen door slam behind him and thanking Yoba above as he stepped off the blue porch and into the dry, dark night. Not only had the rain subsided, but also, he’d made it out alive — though he wasn’t sure why it’d been a concern at all.

**************

Shane could feel the tension hanging over the ranch before he even opened the front door. He’d fucked up — royally.

He’d taken a detour on the way home, and gone straight to the saloon. If he had to get an earful, he at least needed to be fucking blitzed first — so he stood in his usual corner for about an hour, skipping the beer in favor of whisky. He wasn’t there for fun — he was there out of necessity.

It was almost midnight by the time he made it back to the ranch, and when he inched the front door open as slowly as physically possible, he could hear some late night tv show playing deftly in the distance — which meant Marnie was still awake. Yoba, strike him down.

Sure enough, there sat Shane’s fucking saint of an aunt, huddled under a blanket on the sofa and staring blankly at the small satellite television. She didn’t move a muscle as Shane stumbled through the door, but when he nearly ate shit whilst removing his shoes, he saw her lip curl — just barely. She’d been waiting up for him.

Shane shuffled slowly over to the living room, his fists balled in his hoodie pocket. “Marnie—”

She cut him off almost instantly. “Shane Michael Slater, you have some nerve, you know that?”

He cringed. His aunt had rarely, if ever, called him by his full name. “I know it’s late,” he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I lost track of time.”

Marnie shook her head slowly, and finally, she looked at him. Even in the dark, he could see the telltale red rimming of her eyes that assured him she’d been crying. His gut twisted.

“You can’t keep doing this,” she said simply, her voice catching on every word. “That poor little girl, Shane… you’re all she has left. I don’t know what happened to her parents — and I don’t want to know — but Yoba rest their souls, they entrusted her to you, son. What would they think?”

Marnie had struck a nerve, somewhere deep in his whisky steeped psyche. Shane felt bold. “Don’t you fucking ever—”

Marnie shot out of her seat and barreled across the room so quickly that Shane’s vision spun. She fixed herself directly in front of him, her bunny slipper clad feet assuming a wide stance. Shane had a considerable few inches of height on his aunt, but still, she made him feel small — especially when he realized that, at this proximity, she could smell the liquor permeating through his skin. “No, sir,” she snapped, wagging a finger in his face. “Not under my roof.”

Marnie held her stance for a few more seconds as she and Shane remained trapped in a silent stalemate. Finally, she dragged her hands through her unruly hair and sighed. Shane could see some of the tension leave her body, but it was only replaced by fatigue. “As soon as you left, Shane, Jas went to her bedroom and put on her new swimsuit.” Marnie scoffed. “She kept saying that it was new, but I wasn’t sure which suit she could possibly be talking about. She came out of her room, and Yoba be good, Shane, it’s the little blue one that you bought her two years ago for her birthday. She’s never gotten to wear it.” A tear slipped down Marnie’s cheek. “It’s almost too small for her now.”

Shane couldn’t think straight — couldn’t fucking believe himself. He scrambled for any way to explain — to justify his actions. “Surely, we must have—”

“No,” Marnie insisted. Shane realized then that his aunt had no intention of letting him finish a singular fucking sentence. “No, Shane. You haven’t.” She crossed her arms, prepared for battle. “She sat in front of that door for six hours, wearing her new swimsuit with a bag of beach toys in her lap. After the first three hours, I knew you weren’t coming back, so I called Jodi to see if little Vincent was available. I was going to take them myself — but Jas refused. She said she wanted to wait for Shae.”

“Marnie, please —” Shane was coming undone. All his life, Marnie had been his safe space — his home. For her to tear into him like this… How had he gone so fucking wrong? Who had he become?

“She sat there until the sky went dark, son. She cried when I put her to bed,” Marnie whispered, wringing the sleeves of her fluffy robe. “I don’t know what exactly you were out doing tonight, or what you’ve gotten yourself into with the Rosenhaal girl, but I want you to think long and hard about this tonight as your spirit soaked brain lulls you to sleep: you made a little girl cry today, Shane Michael. I am so disappointed in you.”

Without another word, Marnie walked back to the living room and turned the tv off. She didn’t so much as spare Shane another glance as she stalked past him, right into her bedroom. She didn’t slam the door, but Shane knew that she wanted to.

**********

The next morning, at 9:00AM sharp, Shane rolled out of bed and choked down four muscle remedy tablets. He dressed swiftly — khaki shorts and a clean blue t-shirt. He threw his hoodie in the wash with extra soap.

He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and drowned out his eyes with droplets before making his way to the kitchen, where he poured two bowls of marshmallow cereal, jammed a pink plastic spoon into one of them, and a regular spoon into the other.

On his way down the hall, he stopped in front of a silvered mirror that hung on the sagging, floral papered wall. He studied his tired face, in which he found no traces of himself, and then bolted a ridiculously wide smile onto it.

It was pretty fucking creepy.

So he tried again. He kept trying and trying and trying until his jaw ached, and the smile on his face looked somewhat convincing. He practiced it a few more times, memorizing the position each muscle sat in, and then he continued walking until he stood before Jas’s bedroom door.

He inched it open, slowly, peeking around it to find her small figure huddled under her purple blanket. He took a moment to just look at her, and as always, he melted inside over the mere sight of her, and how, though she was an equal combination of the two people he’d loved more than anyone else in his entire life, he somehow still managed to love her more.

He sat on the edge of her bed and quickly arranged the muscles in his cheeks and jaw to form the smile he’d practiced over and over. He tugged on the corner of her blanket. Her dark eyes — Dray’s eyes — fluttered open, and she only stared at him.

“Hey, bug,” Shane whispered. “Up and at ‘em, we’ve got a big day ahead of us.”

Shane waited patiently for her smile, yet it never came. “I’m tired today, Shae,” was all she said.

He knew, outright, that she was lying — and it sent his guts tumbling straight to hell. He thought he had more time before he started to rub off on her — before his demons began eating her, too.

Shane sighed, long and hard, fixing his elbows on his knees. “Look, kiddo, I know I messed up yesterday, and I’m so sorry. I want to make it up to you, if you’ll let me,” he said softly, hoping he sounded more sincere than nervous.

Still, Jas was silent.

“I made breakfast,” he offered, gesturing toward the kitchen. “Your favorite.”

Finally, she glanced at him. Maybe she was his child, after all. “Marshmallow unicorn cereal?” She inquired meekly. She might have been a firecracker at times, but the kid was damn easy to please. Shane had really lucked out.

He raised his eyebrows dramatically. “It’s getting soggy — you’d better hurry up.”

Without another moment of contemplation, the Jas he knew and loved sprung out of bed — still in her blue swimsuit. “Let’s go!” She cried as she trotted out of her bedroom, her arms flying behind her for obviously aerodynamic purposes.

Shane sent up a silent prayer to Yoba, though he knew the ancient god had long stopped listening. Please, don’t let me fuck this up.

************

“We can go swimming, and then we can build a sandcastle, and then we can go swimming again to rinse all the sand off, and then we can go get ice cream, and then —”

“Whatever you want, kiddo,” Shane promised to the skipping girl at his side. She’d been planning so incessantly for the last ten minutes that Shane had barely even noticed as Marnie looped his arm through a packed beach bag and sent them on their way, hand in hand.

Now, as Shane and Jas made their way down Willow Lane toward the beach path, he actually had a smile on his face, and though he could feel eyes on him, he didn’t give a shit. Who knows, maybe for once, they’d find him less dysfunctional, considering the fact that he was actually spending time with his child.

And though Jas looked absolutely nothing like her godfather, Shane knew that the townsfolk didn’t know the difference. He’d never grown close enough to anyone to disclose the fact that Jas wasn’t his biological daughter — but he preferred it that way. For all intents and purposes, she was his — that’s all anyone needed to know.

“JAS!” A shrill voice shrieked somewhere in the distance.

Jas froze at his side and whirled around, twisting both of their arms at an awkward angle. “Vincent! Hi!” She cried. “I’m going to the beach with Shae!”

The sandy haired boy came bolting up to them, and though Shane knew that he was Jas’s best friend, he’d never really met the kid. “Hi, buddy,” Shane said awkwardly, giving the boy an awkward little wave.

Vincent ignored him. “I wanna go to the beach!” He whined, whirling in place to locate Sam, who Shane had just spotted coming through the alleyway beside his house. “Sammy, can I go to the beach with Jas and her dad?! Please!”

For a split second, Sam looked puzzled, but like the golden retriever he truly was, he met the situation with a smile. Sam jogged up to them briskly. “Yeah, of course!” Sam said. “Only if Jas and Shane want you to, though,” he reminded his little brother.

The children looked up at Shane expectantly. He’d never been great at telling Jas no. “Sure, sure,” Shane said finally.

Jas and Vincent squealed, and Sam only watched them with a grin on his face. “Mind if I tag along?” Sam asked under his breath. “My mom would kill me if I let Vincent go to the beach without someone she knows watching him.”

Shane thought of Jodi, the mild mannered type housewife with a knack for petty gossip. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “No problem,” Shane said with a shrug. Truly, he didn’t dislike Sam — he was just a bit much sometimes, especially on days like today, when Shane was running on fumes.

But regardless of her godfather’s unease, Jas led the way, with two new friends in tow. The excitement practically radiated from her small body as she and Vincent skipped down the path, arms locked together and feet dancing clumsily. Shane and Sam hung back, making idle chat about the goings-on at Joja Mart in Shane’s absence.

When the four of them reached the shores, the children made straight for the water, but Shane wasn’t having it. Mid conversation, he interrupted Sam. “Jasmine Marie!” Shane called. “Get your little ass back over here!”

Jas froze in her tracks and spun around to face him. Vincent followed suit. “I want to swim!” She insisted, stomping back toward the spot where Sam was unfolding a beach chair.

“I know, bug — you’ll get to swim. But safety first, remember? Aunt Marnie will ground us both if you come home with a sunburn,” he explained gruffly, fishing a likely expired bottle of sunscreen from the beach bag and smearing some on her face and shoulders as she scowled.

“This stuff is stinky,” Jas grumbled as Vincent snickered behind her.

“We’re all a little stinky sometimes,” Shane said with a wink, satisfied with his handiwork as he rubbed away the last of the white streaks on her face. “Now, what’s our beach motto?”

Jas crossed her arms impatiently.

“You’re not stepping foot in that water until you say it,” Shane said, glancing over at the shoreline, and the high noon sunshine that reflected off the water and back into his squinting eyes.

Jas sighed, long and dramatic. “Fins in the water means a trip to the doctor,” she huffed, every muscle in her little body poised to sprint in the opposite direction as soon as he gave her the go-ahead.

Shane nodded, and like it was a race, the children were off.

Sam laughed at his side as Shane sunk down into the sand, pushing his sunglasses up his nose. “You’ve got your hands full with that one,” Sam teased.

Shane shrugged, inwardly cringing at the comment. “They could be fuller.” While he knew what Sam meant, he didn’t really take kindly to the notion that his kid was anything less than perfect.

*********

The four of them remained at the water's edge until the sun began to set. More than a few times, Shane had fallen asleep in the sand to pass the time, between watching the kids play and listening to Sam ramble on and on about Penny, Abby, Haley, and pretty much every other girl in the valley. While Sam’s pining was actually pretty innocent, the kid definitely needed to get laid, and just briefly, Shane thought of Litha, wondering if she’d made a pass at any other men in the valley, or if she just had a thing for burnout drunks.

Once Shane spotted Jas finally meandering up the sandbank, he knew she must have been spent after a long day of getting knocked on her ass by the crashing waves — and Shane himself was itching for something in particular, growing irritable in its absence. He glanced over at Sam, who wore the same smile he had eight hours ago, and he couldn’t help but wonder how the fuck anyone managed to rawdog life like that. Granted, Shane had seen Sam smoke his fair share of weed up at the train stop with Abigail and Sebastian, but he didn’t really feel like it counted for much after the kid had maintained a good attitude for a whole day at the beach with two screaming kids under the blazing sun. Shane would bet all the fish in the Gem Sea that Sam would probably go home, jerk off, and smoke a joint. What a fuckin’ life.

“Shae, I want to be a mermaid when I grow up,” Jas remarked as she sank into his lap dramatically.

“You don’t wanna grow up, kiddo,” Shane assured her. “I promise.”

Her eyes became excited, and Shane feared for the next thing she’d say. “So I can be a mermaid right now, then?”

He chuckled. “Sure you can,” Shane said, patting her sandy hair. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

She yawned. “Yes. My legs are like jelly.”

Shane hoisted Jas onto his hip, and slung their towels over his shoulder. They bid their companions goodnight once Shane decided he’d rather take the Blue Moon Vineyard trail rather than go back through town, and Jas waved vigorously at Vincent over her godfather's shoulder as he carried her in the opposite direction.

“Aren’t you scared?” She asked sleepily as her face rested against his chest.

“What’s there to be scared of, bug?”

She yawned deeply. “The woods, Shae. Don’t you know that’s where the monsters live?”

“There are no monsters,” Shane assured her, though he didn’t know if he bought it himself. “Don’t worry.”

By the time he saw the ranch’s porch lights materialize in the distance, Jas had already fallen asleep in his arms, and when he pushed the front door open, Marnie was waiting for them in the kitchen with a proud smile etched onto her perma-tired face.

“Good day?” Marnie whispered as Shane eased the door shut behind him.

He nodded as he handed the sleeping child in his arms off to his aunt.

“She smells like ocean, but she wore herself out today, so don’t bother waking her. I’ll wash her sheets tomorrow, but for now can you just change her into her pajamas and put her to bed for me? I’m covered in sand,” Shane explained, dusting off the ass of his shorts for emphasis.

Marnie carried Jas away, and Shane made for his own bedroom for a change of clothes. Once he’d retrieved his hoodie from the dryer and replaced his khaki shorts with basketball shorts, he wandered back into the kitchen where he threw a pizza into the microwave. He sat down at the table just as Marnie emerged from Jas’s room.

“Thank you,” was all she said as she regarded him carefully.

Shane scoffed. “Don’t thank me for taking care of my kid, Marnie. Honestly I can’t fucking believe I set the bar so low.”

Marnie tsked, shaking her head slowly. “You’ve got a good heart, Shane, and I love you very much, despite your shortcomings. Most days, you do your best, and that really is all I can ask of you.”

Echoing her same sentiment from just a few days prior, Shane said, “this isn’t my best. It’s not even close.”

She studied him for a moment, her kind brown eyes raking over him, even in the dim kitchen lighting. “You look like hell, son,” she observed.

“Yeah, well, it’s been a long day.”

She sighed, reaching across the table and taking his hands in her own. “Go to the saloon if you need to, my boy. I will still love you in the morning.” With a pat to his cheek and one last sad smile, Marnie padded off toward her bedroom.

He was ashamed to admit it, but she’d read his mind. Within the amount of time it took her door to close behind her, Shane had already stepped outside. Without another thought, he began his walk toward town, and within ten or so minutes, he found himself huddled into a booth in the most quiet corner of the bar, twiddling his thumbs in wait.

Emily, who never missed a damn thing, was at his table in an instant. “You’re not sitting at the bar tonight?” She asked, blue wisps of hair falling over her forehead as she cocked her head to the side. “Is something eating at you, or are you just making sure I get my exercise?”

Emily was one of the few people in Pelican Town that Shane could consider an acquaintance. She was a black sheep, just like him, and he had a soft spot for the little weirdo. He’d even considered pursuing her at one point, but he wasn’t sure if he was her type — what with the dick between his legs and all.

Shane looked up at her, shaking his head. “Portion control,” he grunted. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

“So, what? You just came for my winning personality?” Emily teased.

Shane sighed. “One beer. Just one.”

Emily shrugged and doubled back to her bar. Seconds later, she returned with a frothy mug. “One beer,” she confirmed.

Shane nodded slowly and slid the mug toward himself. “Thanks, Em.”

She bid him a sweet smile and was off to take care of someone else.

Shane nursed his beer for thirty more minutes, staring down into the glass mug as if he’d find himself at the bottom of it. Just as he drained his last sip, the saloon door swung open, and in walked the most mysterious group of patrons he’d even seen at the Stardrop. The eye patch wearing old guy from the mountaintop guild, the creepy wizard from the eastern tower, the magenta haired adventurer from the highlands… and of course, Litha, who wore tan cargo pants, a cropped white shirt, and as always, her sword and scarf.

The four of them were already laughing when they walked in, and it was plain enough to see — Litha had all three men worshipping at her altar already. Shane felt sick when he noticed that the highland adventurer’s eyes were all for the sword toting Galdoran that he’d been tangled up with less than twenty four hours ago, and when Emily walked up to collect his mug, he slid her a few gold pieces under his palm.

“Keep them coming,” he ground out as he watched the group take a seat at a table on the opposite side of the bar.

Litha hadn’t noticed him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she ordered a round of shots for the table and then slung her arm around the magenta haired man. Shane knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Litha had already selected her next conquest, and Shane was merely dust in the wind to her. He’d never felt so fucking cheap in all his life.

Just as Emily replaced Shane’s empty mug, the mysterious new farmer smacked a kiss against the cheek of her adventurer companion — and right then, Shane swore off of Litha Rosenhaal for good.

Chapter Text

“Do you think you’ll go back to Odd Jobs any time soon, son?” Marnie asked over breakfast as Shane poured Jas a bowl of cereal. “Ian called asking after you. They have a busy week coming up, apparently.”

Shane shrugged. “I thought they only needed me for SunnyVale — and I’m not going back to that damn farm.” It had been days since he’d seen her last, and he was hell bent on maintaining his streak.

“I think they just need all the help they can get,” she supplied.

“I’ll stop by later, then,” Shane replied gruffly.

Marnie nodded in approval, and the conversation died off. Shane focused extra hard on stabbing an egg yolk, trying not to give life to the nagging urge at the back of his skull. He hadn’t had a drink in almost a week, and even through the tremors, headaches, body aches, and vomiting, he’d managed to avoid his vices. He was nearly out of the woods — he had to be. He’d even kept to his room for the most part, as Marnie had a habit of wanting to end his suffering by any means possible. He wouldn’t put it past her to simply bring him a bottle of whisky, if only to numb his pain.

It had been almost a week since he’d stumbled home after that night at the saloon — directly after watching Litha drag that fucking pink haired guy off to the same back room she’d taken Shane himself to. That day, he’d had a resolve, and it had been going remarkably well — until he saw Litha, that is.

So, Shane got to thinking. Maybe — just maybe, if he could avoid Litha, he could keep himself in check. Granted, he’d never been able to accomplish such a task before, even prior to his knowing Litha — but Shane had convinced himself that something had clicked lately, and all that stood in his way was her. It made him sick to think that she could possibly have such a hold on him, yet all the same, it was remarkably easy to blame it all on her.

So he kept his head down. He refused to travel north of the ranch. He stayed away from the saloon. He hadn’t gone back to Odd Jobs. And the morning after his last night at the bar, when Litha came knocking to inquire after him — because, like an idiot, he had promised to return the following day — Marnie simply told her that Shane wasn’t feeling well. Shane had to give Litha credit where it was due — she apparently got the hint. She hadn’t come knocking again.

But summer was right around the corner, and every time Shane left the house, the air felt hotter and hotter. Admittedly, he was worried for the chicks up at SunnyVale that he had essentially abandoned — potentially sealing the deal on their ritualistic death at the hands of a cum stealing, bone hoarding witch.

A few days later, he broke down — kind of.

“Hey, Marnie, can you do me a favor?” Shane asked one early morning as the two of them tended to their own chickens in the barn.

“What is it, Shane?” His aunt asked, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her wrist.

“Well, remember how we sold Litha those chicks a few days ago or so?”

Marnie nodded, her eyes narrowing.

“She didn’t have a coop yet. She told me that Robin was coming to fix hers up the next morning, and I sort of told her that I’d come back to help her get them situated.” Shane rubbed the back of his neck, melting under Marnie’s glare. “Obviously, I didn’t go back — and I won’t. But I’m worried about those chicks. So I was thinking — maybe you could go check up on them?”

Marnie scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ll go check in on them, Shane — but first, I need you to tell me what happened with that Rosenhaal girl. If those little birds are in danger, I will just take them right back.”

Shane had no doubt that she’d do exactly that. Without asking, he knew that his aunt wasn’t a fan of the new farmer. “Nothing happened,” he lied. “I just don’t think she’s someone I need to be spending my time with.”

Marnie nodded in approval, and Shane sent up a silent thanks to Yoba that she bought his bullshit — partial bullshit. The last part was true.

Marnie took her gloves off. “I’ll head up there now. Might as well get it over with.”

“I owe you one,” Shane said just as a thought crossed his mind. “While you’re at it, why don’t you take one of the barn cats up there with you?”

Marnie looked horrified. “Why in the world would I do that, son?”

Shane really didn’t have a good answer. “We have plenty of barn cats. You could take her that fat orange one that chases the chickens around,” he suggested. “She’s a farmer with no pets. It’s just weird.”

“She doesn’t look like any farmer I’ve ever seen,” Marnie grumbled under her breath.

“Yeah, yeah, I know — just take the cat, will you?”

“Fine. I’ll take the cat,” she resigned, throwing her hands up in surrender.

**********

“Yeah, Marnie told us to expect you, but that under no circumstances were we to ask you to do any work at SunnyVale,” Sean explained in good humor after Shane bored them half to death with some bleak apology and a thanks for the opportunity they’d given him — upon Marnie’s request, of course. “So like… what the hell happened with you and Litha, man? She’s asked about you a couple times.”

Shane felt the slick, oily feeling of embarrassment wash over him as Sean waggled his eyebrows insistently.

Ian cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, shooting his friend a warning glare. “We’re just glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back,” Shane lied.

Ian smiled. “But Litha is still contracting us to help out at SunnyVale, so if you’re not wanting to go back, you’ll have to take up some of our other jobs.”

In his periphery, Shane spotted Sean looking sickeningly mischievous. “So, we’ve got two options for you on the roster today,” Sean said. “We’ve got three jobs, so Ian is gonna help out at SunnyVale, you’re gonna pick a job, and then I’m gonna do whatever you don’t want to do.”

Shane nodded. “What are my options?”

Sean took a little notebook from his pocket. Shane found it odd that Sean handled the scheduling and not Ian, considering that the red head seemed to be both the brains and the brawn of the operation.

“So, Gus asked us to come down to Stardrop and do some rearranging in the back room — some patrons complained about hearing noises, so he thinks he might have rats. We’ll probably set some rat traps, too,” Sean explained.

Shane felt his cheeks heat up. “What’s the other thing?”

“Olivia Jenkins needs a few rooms painted over at her estate.”

Shit. To endure the weird tension he felt with Olivia, or to go down to the saloon and rearrange Litha’s stranger banging sanctuary? “I’ll do the painting,” Shane said without a second thought.

Sean groaned. “I thought you’d say that.”

What a fucking way to start the summer.

***********

Shane couldn’t believe that he was honestly on his way to the Jenkins Estate — doubly couldn’t believe that he was about to knock on the door while wearing a stupid ass painters smock with a bag of supplies slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He was already sweating through the white cloth — how fucking convenient.

He was nervous. Realistically, he’d never actually spoken to Olivia — but he just got this feeling from her, like if she’d been the mother of one of his friends in high school, he would have spent time at that friend's house only on the off chance that she’d even glance at him. She’d be too proud to say a damn word to some grubby little Grampleton punk, yet she’d enjoy the attention, anyway. Shane wasn’t ashamed to admit he’d explored the fantasy once or twice.

He passed Pierre’s General Store before he knew it, and then, there he stood — directly at the doorstep of Olivia and Victor Jenkins, the most affluent family in the valley, save for the Amethyne’s, who Shane found to be creepy as fuck. He knocked on the fancy, solid wood door before he had time to second guess himself.

Shane waited impatiently as the sun blasted him from overhead, and for a moment, he pitied Ian, who was not only due to bake in the heat for the rest of the day whilst restoring SunnyVale to its former glory, but also had to deal with Litha’s bizarre antics, as well. Ian was a good kid, and Shane genuinely hoped that she’d keep her claws out of the boy. It was a selfless sentiment — or at least he was pretty sure it was.

Finally, Shane heard a lock or two click open, and immediately, he rolled his eyes. Who the fuck locks their door in Pelican Town?

In the threshold, where Shane expected to find Olivia, there was only Victor. Shane couldn’t recall ever formally meeting the kid.

“Uh, hello — may I help you?” Victor asked politely, a confused expression creasing his brow.

Shane jostled the supplies hung over his shoulder for emphasis. “I’m here to paint.”

Victor looked Shane over, and his back straightened, a warm smile tugging at his mouth. “Of course,” he started, stepping back from the threshold and smoothing his perfectly white shirt. “Come in, please.”

Shane stepped inside, and immediately realized he’d never seen the interior of a house so large. Unexpectedly, he felt pretty fucking inferior. “What rooms need painting?” Shane asked, uninterested in pleasantries.

Victor looked shy. “The library and its adjacent room. Mother had decided the color no longer suits her visual palette — so of course, it was of the utmost importance that she not be forced to look at it for another day longer.” Shane marked the frustration in his tone. “I’ll show you to the rooms, and the paint she’s chosen.”

Without wasting another second, Victor gave Shane a brief tour of the house. He directed him toward the rooms — both of which had the furniture already moved to the center — and then toward the paint, which Shane was surprised to find was a rich shade of burgundy.

“I was just about to leave for the day,” Victor explained. “But my mother is in the cellar, tending to her fine wines. I’ll let her know you’ve arrived, and then I’ll be on my way. When you finish the job, you can go to her for your compensation.”

Shane nodded, rendered speechless by the thought of Olivia in the cellar, surrounded by exotic imports. Childishly, he’d always toyed with the idea of the Jenkins being vampires — and the current image he was picturing only gave life to his daydreams. Shane didn’t necessarily believe in the supernatural — but everyone needs a little detour from reality every now and again.

With one last kind, pedigree soaked smile, Victor left Shane in the great room with his metaphorical dick in his metaphorical hand as he surveyed the enormity of the structure around him.

Fuck.

**********

Shane was a shitty, shitty excuse for a painter — but fortunately, he’d suspected as much before he began, and had paid extra careful attention to laying tarps all along the edges of the walls. Ian had packed the bag of supplies for him, and Shane had thought initially that the amount of tarps included seemed far more than necessary. Shane had thought wrong.

He’d never painted a room in his entire life, so once he’d managed to work out a strategy, he applied the color pretty fucking slowly — mostly because he was being very careful. He had a sneaking suspicion that, if he got a single drop of paint on anything but the wall, there was a distinct possibility that Olivia would cut his ass off and mount it above the fireplace. But fortunately, the shakes that were a result of his withdrawals had nearly subsided.

Eight hours later, Shane had long watched the sun set and leave the spanning windows dark. The massive library and the sitting room to its right were thoroughly painted without so much as a drop out of place, and though Shane was exhausted, mildly irritated, and itching for a cold drink, he was satisfied with the work he’d done.

Once he’d gathered up all of his materials and given the rooms a final once over, he set out to find Olivia, fighting a losing battle with the ball of nerves forming in the pit of his stomach. He crept around the house on silent feet, yet he didn’t see a single sign of her. Surely, she wouldn’t still be in the cellar?

Yet as he approached the kitchen, he heard a faint tune emanating from the stairwell. Who the fuck spends eight hours in a cellar?

“Is there a little mouse pattering about in my kitchen?” He heard a smooth, luxurious voice call from below. “Come on down, I won’t bite.”

Shane didn’t believe that for a damn second, but regardless, his foot found purchase on the first step, and each after it.

The cellar was damp, dim, and hazy, and the slow, bluesy tune crackling over the radio made it seem all the more eerie. In the corner of the room, at a small round table situated underneath the room’s only light source, sat Olivia Jenkins — looking utterly fucking misplaced.

At the sight of her, Shane felt the blood flow divert from his brain. She regarded him casually — if not a bit playfully — as she lounged in an unstable looking wooden chair, with one long leg outstretched in front of her, its stiletto clad foot resting upon the table top. Her side slit crimson dress was hiked up nearly to her hip, revealing a lacy black garter encircling her smooth, pale thigh. A lit cigar burned in an ashtray on the table, and her slim fingers cradled a long stemmed crystal glass full of dark red liquid.

It took Shane entirely too long to realize that she was waiting for him to speak. “Mrs. Jenkins — hi,” he began foolishly. “I’m done painting.”

For a moment, she only stared at him — her round, red painted lips curved into the ghost of a smile. “Is that so?” She removed her foot from the table and crossed one leg over the other, taking a long drag from her fat cigar. “Why don’t you come and have a seat, Shane?”

Shane felt, overwhelmingly, like he was being lured to his death — but all the same, he was oddly pretty turned on. Had Litha given him a complex for dangerous women? He felt his legs carry him toward her, though he hadn’t quite meant for it to happen. He took a seat across from her.

“How did you find the work, dear?” She asked slowly, a thin strap slipping down her narrow shoulder. “Easy enough, I hope?”

Shane swallowed hard. “It was fine.”

“You’re a man of few words, aren’t you, Shane?” She purred, rising from her seat only to lean against the edge of the table, her mostly bare hip and thigh on display for him. “I like that. It makes you seem quite stoic.”

Shane’s eyes were fixed on her, his gaze traveling up from her graceful legs and back down from her impressive cleavage. She only watched as he stared at her body — or rather, the parts she’d left on display for him.

He didn’t dare touch her the way that her deep, dark eyes coerced him to. Instead, he explored the idea of what her friends would say if they knew she was trying to seduce the help in the privacy of her personal wine cellar. She’d be ridiculed — soiled by him. He couldn’t do it — though he was sure he’d find it satisfying in more ways than one if he did.

As much as Shane wanted to believe that he’d fuck Olivia Jenkins so thoroughly that she’d forget all of her reservations and general distaste toward him, he was a rational man — mostly. It had been over a week since his last run in with Litha — and he knew better than to think he’d last long enough to satisfy the likes of the woman that sat before him. Best case scenario, he’d contain himself for about five minutes or so, and then Olivia would send him on his way with yet another reason to feel smug. Fuck no.

Just then, the two of them heard the heavy front door creak open. “Mommy?” Victor called.

Mommy, indeed, Shane thought to himself as he did one last visual sweep of her body, taking in her full breasts and the way that the lace garter rested very snugly around her soft thigh.

Just as he was thinking about what it would be like to slip that garter off with his teeth, she said, “Next time I find myself needing work done around my estate, I’ll be requesting you specifically, Shane.” She pressed a few gold pieces into the palm of his hand like the cheap whore she thought he was, and Shane was on his way.

********

On his way home, he considered the fact that he’d been right all along. Had Victor not come home, he’d be balls deep in Olivia Jenkins right now — and if that wasn’t the setup for a low budget porno, he didn’t know what was. He chuckled to himself as he pushed the front door open and stepped inside. Marnie was sitting at the kitchen table, glasses pushed high on her nose as she poured over some paperwork.

“Evenin’,” he said, dropping his pack by the door. “Did you get around to checking on Litha — I mean, the chicks?” Shane was ashamed to admit that he’d been waiting to ask that same question all fucking day.

Marnie glared at him, lips pressed into a line. “Yes, Shane.”

He was growing impatient. “And?”

“And they’re fine, son. Robin fixed the coop up real nice, and Miss Litha has them set up with plenty of fresh hay and grains.”

Marnie wasn’t giving much away. “And — the cat?” He prompted.

“Shane Michael, that girl is no good for you! I won’t play your messenger. You’re a grown man — if you want to know how the girl is doing, go see for yourself.” Marnie had removed her glasses for emphasis, her index finger already working in his direction. “SunnyVale is coming along beautifully, and Litha looks well. She said to give you her thanks for the cat.”

Shane felt his mouth dry out. “You told her I sent the cat?”

“Yes!” His aunt cried. “And I told her that you sent me, too.”

“Why would you — ”

“No, sir! I will not play this game with you!” Marnie shot out of her seat, laying it on heavy with the dramatics. “Don’t send me on your errands, Shane. That girl gives me the spooks!”

“Okay, okay,” he surrendered, holding his hands up as a white flag. “I’m sorry. Thanks for going anyway, though.”

“You’re welcome,” Marnie grumbled, collecting her papers and making for the living room. “I hope you had a good day at work. I’m very proud of you.”

Even in her pettiness, Marnie was nothing if not a mother hen.

Chapter Text

Shane gladly skipped out on most events and holidays — but the luau was not one of them. He didn’t give a shit about the festivities, but the food was a whole different story. He’d actually been fasting for a full day in preparation once Summer 11 finally came around, despite the fact that he’d helped Odd Jobs set up the beach the day before, and his stomach had complained the whole time. Worth it.

He rolled out of bed extra early, and for the first time in months, he felt fucking great. A full night's sleep without any toxins coursing through his bloodstream had done his body good — who would have guessed it? He brushed his teeth, rinsed water over his face, and shaved three days worth of stubble off his chin. He shrugged on a fresh blue button down shirt and some clean black shorts. Against his better judgement, he looked himself over in the mirror once he’d finished dressing, and he couldn’t fucking believe it — his stomach actually wasn’t bloated. Despite the fact that his hair definitely needed a good cut, Shane almost looked like his old self. He shrugged at his reflection and turned for the door.

Jas and Marnie sat at the table, eating eggs and toast. Marnie glanced up at him from her newspaper in passing, but when she cast her eyes back down, she quickly did a double take.

“My, my, look at you!” She simpered. “What’s the occasion, my dear boy?”

Shane felt his cheeks heat up. “Soup party at the beach — duh.” He picked up Jas, who squealed as he hugged her against him. “Are you ready to eat so much food that you can’t move, kiddo?”

“Yes!” Jas cried, throwing her arms around his neck. “I hope they have pink cake!”

“They’ll have it just for you,” he promised, kissing her cheek as he placed her back in her seat.

“Go on and get dressed now, Jas,” Marnie said, giving the girl a pointed look. “We don’t want to be late.”

Jas beamed at them, climbing out of her seat and skipping down the hall.

Marnie turned her attention to Shane. “This is a good look for you,” she whispered. “Jas likes you happy — and so do I.”

Suddenly, he felt shy. There was no polite way to tell his aunt, who had been more of a mother to him than his own, that he still wanted to die. Well, maybe not that he wanted to die, but just that he wished he’d never been alive to begin with. Shane was fairly certain that, if he had to look death in the face, he’d still be a fucking coward. It was one of the only things that had ever kept him from ending it all — he was scared.

So he kept on. He lived every day, and he lived them miserably — no amount of sober days or kind remarks would ever fix that. So instead of disclosing any of it at all, he only smiled at her.

Within minutes, Jas returned, and her puffy dress was the same color as Shane’s shirt. “We match, Shae!”

“Two peas in a pod,” he assured her, high-fiving her little hand as she jumped up and down. “Let’s get going — I could eat a horse.”

************

The three of them took the back way to the beach, through the forest and out by Blue Moon. Shane assured them it was faster, but realistically, he just enjoyed the scenery. The screaming birds, chirping frogs, buzzing insects — he savored it like a last meal. Good days had become so few and far between, he’d learned to take what he could get. So when Marnie pointed out a wildflower and named its genus, Shane encouraged her to pluck it. And when Jas showed him her very best bird impersonation, he squawked right back. He was doing his best to no longer take them for granted.

A short time later, the trio made it to the beach, and just as Shane had feared, the whole fucking valley had turned out for the event. It wasn’t every day that the smug, grape shaped mayor made his way to their neck of the woods, after all.

Shane made a beeline for the food — on the tables. During the past several years he’d spent in Pelican Town, he learned better than to have soup from the cauldron. There was about a 50/50 chance someone had put something fucking weird in it. One year, Lewis had fished out a pair of purple shorts, and Marnie was fighting laughter so hard that she had to excuse herself.

As Shane loaded up plates for himself and Jas, he scanned the crowd around him in search of people that he found tolerable. He spotted Emily, who was dancing with her sister Haley. Haley found Shane repulsive, so he kept looking. Olivia and Victor were chatting up the mayor, which seemed pretty unappealing — not that he would have approached Olivia regardless. As he kept sifting through the crowd, he was surprised to find not a single pigtailed pink head. But to his relief, just as Jas was darting off toward Vincent and Jodi, Shane spotted Ian and Sean lounging in beach chairs right on the shore. Marnie had already run off to chat with Lewis, so he figured that crowd blending was better than sulking alone in the corner.

Sean looked up from his seat as Shane approached, and a friendly smile split his face. “Chicken man! How goes it?”

Shane chuckled and plopped down between them in the sand, disregarding his clean shorts. “It goes,” he shrugged. “It just keeps fuckin’ going.”

Ian snickered to his right. “Truer words have never been spoken,” he said under his breath.

“I’ll drink to that,” Sean said as he fished a beer from the cooler at his side and passed it over to Shane.

For a moment, he just stared at Sean’s hand. He had to do something — he just wasn’t sure what. His coworkers were staring at him expectantly — maybe even a bit confused — and without giving it another thought, he took the beer. Shane knew that it had only been a casual gesture, but all the same, he felt cosmically fucked, and doubly so as he popped the tab and took a sip while picking at the plate of food that sat in his lap.

Desperate to distract his brain, Shane said the first thing that popped into his head. “How’s SunnyVale coming along?”

Suddenly, Ian glanced over his shoulder, and Sean followed suit. Shane didn’t understand — until he heard her voice.

“Like a dream, laddy,” Litha answered in that accented voice that Shane hadn’t realized he’d been missing until right at that moment.

Sean, the fucking simpleton, smiled at her. “What’s up, circus turkey?” He asked enthusiastically, hopping out of his seat to Shane’s left and gesturing toward it as he stepped away. “Take a load off, stay awhile!”

“Yer a doll, Sean,” Litha simpered as she flopped down into the seat.

Shane didn’t dare more than a glance at her, as awkward as he made it all seem. But, unfortunately, the human eyeball is rounded, so of course, he couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of her, sprawled out in the low sitting beach chair next to him, wearing a shitty excuse for a swimsuit — some scraps of white fabric strung loosely together by thin cords.

“Yoba — there are children here,” he grumbled, his high spirits crushed within seconds as he struggled to keep his eyes off the enticing dips and curves of her bared body. He couldn’t afford to think of all those dips and curves that his hands had touched — and all the ones that they hadn’t.

“Don’t be a prude, Shane,” she purred, stretching her arms above herself and folding them behind her head, smiling blissfully. “The human body is a divine gift, and I know you’re inclined to agree with me. I haven’t an ounce of shame — nor should you.”

He turned to face her, if only to tell her to fuck directly off, but his eyes caught on her skin, her face, her absurd little swimsuit — his brain short circuited as his eyes focused on her form. Her signature red scarf, sword, and pigtails were nowhere to be found.

Her next-to-nothing swimwear was flawlessly white, consisting only of two tiny triangles that barely covered her perfect tits, a string that crisscrossed over her slim waist, and two strings that held up the bottom piece, which sat high up on her hips. He knew that if she were to stand back up, that stringy little excuse for swim bottoms would be wedged between her asscheeks. Her pale pink hair hung loose and straight, spilling over her shoulders and onto the sand at her sides. Several others had come to the luau in swimwear, but not like hers. He quickly reminded himself that it was unlikely that any of the other festival goers had come in search of dick, though. Litha was unique, like that.

Shane was really fucking grateful for the plate that sat on his lap as he scoffed at her, feigning disdain in place of white-hot lust. “Yeah, whatever. This is a soup party — have some fuckin’ decency.”

She only smiled at him — she wasn’t buying it. “Why are you avoiding me, Shane?”

Sean and Ian suddenly looked really uncomfortable. Ian cleared his throat. “I just remembered that we have to go to the bathroom.”

Shane wanted to crawl into a hole and die as his two buffers slowly backed away. He felt like he was disarming a bomb. “Are you sure?” Shane pleaded. “These are your seats — I’d hate to steal them.”

Sean put his hands up and granted them an awkward smile. “Yeah, no problem — take your time.” And with that, they were gone.

Shane drained the rest of his beer, which felt damn good — and then, regretfully, he turned his attention back on Litha, who was leaning toward him with her chin propped up on her fist and an amused grin stretched across her pretty lips. “Well?” She mused.

“Well, what?” Shane grumbled, staring at the food that he’d completely lost interest in.

“Well, what have I done to make you dislike me so?” Litha asked, her smile stiffening into a line.

Shane scoffed, shaking his head slowly. “You wouldn’t understand.” At the moment, it was the best he could do. He wasn’t comfortable disclosing the fact that he was a pisspoor drunk and a glutton for any crutch he could find — or the fact that he felt that she could easily become one of those crutches, herself. He couldn’t tell her the truth — because honestly, Shane just couldn’t fucking get enough of her. He’d rather die than give her the satisfaction.

“Try me,” she said, leaning in a little bit closer, the movement causing her cleavage to round out.

Shane couldn’t focus — not in these conditions. His gaze slipped down to her chest, and he hated himself for letting her win as her eyes narrowed on him. “It’s just that —”

“Shhhhh.” Abruptly, Litha stood, stretching out her long, bare body right in front of his eyes, her suit pulling tight at every seam. “Come up to my farm later, after sun down. I’ll make it worth your while, of course — and then, we can talk. ”

“I don’t want whatever you have to offer,” he seethed, averting his eyes as she wiggled her top back into place.

“Oh, Shane — trust me. You do.” With a final wink, Litha strode off — and Shane had been right. Only a tiny triangle sat at the top of her asscrack. Not a strip of fabric more.

He tried desperately not to watch her as she walked away, but he couldn’t help but count every jiggle of her immaculate ass until she was no longer within his field of vision.

Just then, something came barreling into him from behind, and of course, it was Jas. Her fingers were sticky and her face was covered in pink.

“I had a lot of cake!” She bleated, smiling wide and splaying out her little fingers.

“I see that,” Shane said, using his shirt to wipe her fingers and face as Marnie followed close behind, looking generally annoyed.

“Will you come watch me and Vincent dance, Shae?” Jas asked, wrapping her arms around his neck and putting her full weight on him.

“Sure, bug — let’s go,” Shane grunted as he pushed himself up out of his sand seat and dusted off his shorts. Being near the dance floor was the last thing he wanted to do, but he had a healthy inkling that it would keep Marnie off his back, even if it was only delaying the inevitable.

So off they went toward the swarm of dancing bodies, Jas skipping and rambling the whole way as Marnie scorched Shane with a death glare from behind. He settled onto a bench near the speakers and watched intently as Jas and Vincent spun each other around and around.

Even as he tried to focus on his daughter, and the amount of sheer delight it brought him to see her smile and play, Shane couldn’t stop looking for Litha — couldn’t stop thinking about her, either.

Shane had never once considered himself a smart man, but there was one thing he knew for absolute certain: when the sun settled into the skyline on that fateful Summer 11, he’d haul his ass right up that hill to SunnyVale Farm, and take whatever the fuck it was that Litha Rosenhaal had to offer him — whether it be a dagger to the heart, or a mouth full of pussy — Shane was fucking sick of fighting the magnetism that relentlessly left him thirsting for more.

***********

He should have gotten drunk before he left the ranch. The singular beer he’d had at the luau hadn’t done a goddamn thing for him — but of course, he hadn’t really expected it to.

When Shane, Jas, and Marnie returned from the festival only a few short hours ago, Marnie immediately got Jas into a bath and then tucked her into bed. Shane, on the other hand, stayed in his sandy shorts and stared out the window for hours, counting the seconds until sundown.

But now, as Shane came up the steep hill north of the ranch, his anticipation had turned to pure unease under the glow of the full moon looming ominously overhead. He couldn’t be certain what Litha had in store for him — but he was convinced that one or both of them would end up naked. He’d entertained the idea of the two of them actually having proper sex for the first time — but knowing Litha, it couldn’t possibly be that simple. Nonetheless, Shane had jerked off three times, just in case.

As he approached the sign he hadn’t dared pass in weeks, he noticed that it was no longer dangling at a weird angle. The sign had been repaired, and someone had even painted small vines and flowers onto it. Behind the sign, there was an iron lamppost, which illuminated the script as if it wasn’t pretty much just Marnie and Shane that would ever see the damn sign anyway. For some stupid fucking reason, Shane felt special.

Even as Shane’s nerves slowly swallowed him whole, he couldn’t help but notice that SunnyVale itself had gotten quite a few upgrades as well — not just the sign. There were plowed fields, sprinklers, newly erected fences, sheds, silos, stone ponds, and more iron lamp posts which lit the cobbled stone path on which Shane walked. He was dumbfounded — it hadn’t even been two full seasons yet.

As the cabin materialized in the distance, Shane noticed that even it looked larger and less rickety. The concrete walls had siding now, and the paper thin front door had been replaced by a wooden one. There was even a pink plastic flamingo sticking up from a garden bed on the porch. Once he climbed the steps to the door, he noticed an embroidered doormat at his feet that read ‘if you’re reading this, you warped from the wrong nexus.’

Before he could knock, the door swung open, and there she stood, looking as normal as he’d ever seen her in some rainbow tie dyed cotton shorts and a tight black sports bra. He didn’t even bother with the pissed off look he’d planned to give her — instead, he only smiled at her. He was actually happy to see her, even if he felt stupid for it.

She returned his smile, and oddly, she looked innocent. “Hello, Shane. I was worried you wouldn’t show.”

“You shouldn’t have been,” he said as he stepped through the threshold, noticing that she’d put up some dark, starry wallpaper — and also that she’d done some dusting.

Litha cocked her head to the side. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

To which he replied: “I feel like I’ve wasted my entire life.” Shane wasn’t sure why he said it, but it was the truth. Possibly the first truth he’d ever told her.

She nodded slowly, regarding him carefully as she shut the door. “Aye. Life is a finite resource, Shane. One cannae afford to let it waste.” Litha gestured toward the couch. “Make yourself at home — I’m just going to change clothes. Had I known for sure that you were coming, I’d have already been dressed.”

Just as Shane was about to tell her that clothing didn’t matter when it would end up on the floor anyway, she turned on her heel and disappeared into her bedroom. He felt a twinge of worry when he realized that Litha seemed unusually morose tonight.

Shane twiddled his thumbs until she reappeared. He watched her bedroom door intently until she came back through it, dressed only in a short, silky black dressing robe. He was surprised by her choice, but not off put.

She leaned against the door jamb and only watched him for a moment. For whatever reason, he took it as his que, rising from his seat and crossing the room to where she stood.

He snaked an arm around her waist and tugged her closer, pressing her body against his tightly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric as he let his fingers roam across her lower back. He went in for a kiss but —

She only stared at him. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, and now you want to get handsy?” Litha asked in a deadpan tone.

Without hesitation, he dropped his arms at his sides and took a step back. “Sorry — I just thought —”

Litha chuckled lowly. “I know what you thought — and you have every right to think it of me. But that isn’t why I asked you here tonight, Shane. Don’t get me wrong, of course I want to be stripped bare and thoroughly fucked — especially when you’re looking at me like that — but tonight is special.” She paused for a moment, a hollow smile curving her lip. “Though, admittedly, if you’d made such advances at the festival this morn, I would have broken into Elliot’s cabin just to have you then and there,” she finished with a wink.

Shane was perplexed. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “Special how?”

“Let me show you,” she whispered, lacing her fingers through his and leading him back out the door.

The two of them rounded the cabin together, until Litha stopped them in front of a small totem carved to look like a mouse. Shane glanced at her sidelong, yet she gave nothing away.

“Close your eyes,” she said quietly, tightening her grip on his fingers. “Keep them closed until I tell you.”

He obliged, though he wasn’t convinced that his trust in her would serve him well. “You’re taking me out to the woods to kill me and strip my bones, aren’t you?”

Litha chuckled. “I have far better uses for you alive than dead, sweet boy.” She took a step forward, and Shane followed suit.

Suddenly, he felt a cool wind on his face, and the gravity that tethered him to the land lost its pull for just a split second. There was a flash of bright light through his eyelids, and then everything felt normal again. His first instinct was to open his eyes, yet he waited for Litha’s signal.

But it didn’t come. Instead, she only began walking, tugging him along until they came to a standstill. “Once more,” she whispered as the weightless sensation overtook him yet again. Within seconds, a musty smell filled his nose.

He heard a deep breath at his side, and then finally: “Open your eyes, Shane.” He did as she instructed without hesitation.

They were in a small stone cellar — or rather, what remained of one. The room was overtaken by vines and wreckage, complete with chipped gray stones, broken glass bottles, and a glowing warp rune beneath Shane’s feet. In the corner, there was a small leaf hut. He didn’t want to know what lived inside.

“Where are we?” He breathed, stepping hastily away from the rune that he assumed had brought him here.

Litha smiled at him shyly — it was the first time he’d ever seen her look shy. “This is what remains of Aurora Vineyard — well, this and the ground level, obviously.”

Shane looked around, only becoming more confused by the second. “What of it?”

She dragged her finger through some dust on a nearby cabinet, inspecting it as she spoke. “Prior to moving here earlier this year, I hadn’t been to Pelican Town since I was only a wee girl,” she explained tentatively. “But I loved this little village when I was young— and I especially loved this vineyard. It’s been abandoned longer than I’ve been alive, but still yet, there’s an energy here, and it calls to me.”

“Why’d you stop coming back?” Shane asked, eager to fall into the trap Litha was setting for him.

“Galdora may be my home, but it can be a cruel place,” she said slowly, fishing a small leather pouch from within her robe. “Rosenhaal is my mother's name — her father owned my farm before me. But my father… well — we can just say he didnae take kindly to such a quaint little lifestyle. Once I’d come of age, he deemed it no longer appropriate for me to spend my summers here.”

Shane noted the rueful tone in her voice. She’d given so little away, yet it had only left him longing for more — but rather than prying, he offered up a piece of himself. “I came here when I was young, too. My aunt Marnie would drive all the way to Grampleton to pick me up every year on Winter 15. I’d stay until Spring 1, and then she’d drive me home.”

She smiled softly, approaching him with the small pouch still in hand. “Maybe we met when we were young,” she offered.

He shook his head. “You were here during Summer, not Winter. Plus, I would remember you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Shane shrugged. “You’re memorable.”

Litha laughed and dumped the contents of the leather pouch into her hand. It was several segments of some sort of dead plant — white, spindly, and dried. “In Galdora, we call this luna root.”

“What is it?” Shane asked.

Litha shrugged. “It’s a hallucinogen, known far and wide across the magical soil for its transcendent medicinal properties. Generally, it’s reserved only for the wealthy and royal.”

He couldn’t fucking believe her. “You brought me to an abandoned vineyard to trip?”

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes narrowing as she smiled. “In so many words, yes — but luna root is an incredibly rare and unique substance, Shane. If it’s used under any moon that isn’t full, it paralyzes the full body — permanently,” she supplied in awe. “Yet under the round moon’s glow, it’s rumored you’ll see the face of Yoba, and live to tell the tale.”

Shane was floored. “But… why did you bring me here? Why me, Litha? What do you see in me?” He begged as she slipped a piece of the root into her mouth, desperate to understand what someone like her could possibly want with someone like him.

“I see someone worth tossing a rope to,” Litha explained, as if it were the most simple thing in the known universe. “Spend this night with me, Shane. Let me show you that your finite life isn’t wasted.” She offered him a piece of his own, palm open and waiting.

He couldn’t let himself think about it as his fingers closed around the small segment of dried root. With a short, silent prayer to Yoba, he put the piece in his mouth, keeping his eyes on Litha the whole time.

“Chew it until it’s mush, but don’t swallow it,” she warned, taking his hands back in hers. “Let’s go outside — the sky is alive, and littered with stars just waiting to be wished upon.”

As Litha led him from the dilapidated cellar of Aurora Vineyard, he held onto her fingers as if they were his only remaining tether to reality — and for the rest of the night, they likely were just that.

***********

There were no fewer than six universes occupying the space between Shane’s two palms. He wasn’t sure how they’d gotten there, but at that moment, he didn’t care. If he held the universe, then surely, he was its master.

In his lifetime, Shane had never been good at finding beauty in things — whether the things in question be grand, or menial. But as he lie on his back under the glow of the full moon, studying the cosmos spread out between his hands, Shane had never seen another thing so spectacular — other than Litha, perhaps, who’d long shed her robe, and was now dancing stark naked around a roaring fire like some ancient and all-powerful witch.

When the luna root first began taking its hold on him, Shane couldn’t stop looking at the moon — if only to make sure it remained full. At several different points, he’d actually convinced himself that he’d been paralyzed, but then he’d look to Litha, watching her untensed, languid movements, reminding himself that they existed under the same moon… and he was okay. He was more than okay, actually.

Maybe he was a fool, but without hesitation, he’d let her anchor him — let her keep him safe. Even as she danced around the fire in his periphery, leaving him exposed to unseen forces, he felt safe. But eventually, she tired herself out, and slinked over to the spot where he remained lying on the ground.

She flopped down next to him, and he studied her sidelong, enthralled by the way that the silvery light beaming down on her had materialized into shimmering, translucent wings, sprawling from her back and draping onto the ground at her sides. Her pale skin glowed like a celestial angel as the moonbeam casted shadows over every slope and peak of her body, but when he dragged his gaze up to her face, he noticed she’d been crying.

He frantically propped himself up on his elbows and flipped onto his side, terrified for her general well-being. “What’s wrong?” He demanded.

“Why don’t you like me?” She sobbed, tears flowing down her temples as her eyes were locked skyward.

Shane’s heart shattered. He’d never seen her so vulnerable. “I like you — I like you more than I care to admit, Litha,” he insisted, intrinsically willing her to understand.

“I had to bribe you here, though,” Litha said quietly.

“You just make me feel uneasy sometimes, is all,” Shane explained gently, placing a wide hand on the center of her belly, shocked by the way that her cool skin sent electricity through all his veins and capillaries.

“Is that such a bad thing?” Litha demanded.

For a moment, he was silent — contemplating. “It makes me feel alive.”

She rolled onto her side to face him, and her eyes were damp, and sad. “But you don’t want to be alive, do you, Shane?”

“No,” he confessed. “I don’t.”

Suddenly, she reached up toward him, and her fingers grazed his cheek. “I barely know who you are,” she whispered.

“There isn’t much to know,” was all he could manage as a tear slipped down his own cheek.

“I won’t let you leave it at that,” she declared. “Tell me something — anything. How did you end up in the valley? Where’s the mother of your child? Why does everyone get quiet when you enter a room?”

He had no fucking idea what to tell her — so he settled for the truth. “Jas and I moved here years ago out of desperation. I failed her, I failed her parents — I failed everyone. Coming back to Pelican Town was my last ditch effort at keeping us both alive.” Litha’s eyes were honed in on him, and he knew that there was no backing down now. He sucked in a breath. “Jas isn’t mine, biologically. Her parents and I — we were close. Really close. When Annemarie got pregnant, Dray and I had no idea which of us had actually done the deed — but I thought she’d be mine. Yet as soon as she was born, I took one look at her, and I knew that she was his. I loved her all the same, though.”

“What happened to them, Shane?” Litha whispered.

“They just… disappeared,” he choked out, willing his voice not to quaver. “One day, I woke up, and they were gone. After that, it was just Jas and I — and for a while, I did my best for her. I got a shitty job at a shitty Joja factory and I worked enough to make ends meet, but I couldn’t stop — I just couldn’t fucking stop —”

Litha scooted closer, her bare skin ruffling the grass beneath her. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Couldn’t stop what, my love?”

“I couldn’t stop fucking drinking,” he seethed, breathing ragged and vision tinged in shades of red and black. “I couldn’t stay sober long enough to make sure that Jas was safe, and comfortable. I couldn’t stop hearing Annemarie’s voice every time she spoke, and I couldn’t stop seeing Dray’s face every time she looked up at me. I couldn’t stop being a selfish piece of shit.” Shane braced his hands on Litha’s back, focusing hard on the smooth surface of her skin, and the fact that she was even real. “So, one night — Winter 15, to be exact — I packed up as much shit as I could fit into a duffel bag, and we left the city for good. We showed up on Marnie’s doorstep with nothing in the middle of the fucking night. I hadn’t talked to her in years. But, of course, she made room for us, and never complained once. Even though I’m still a fucking washed up drunk, and I embarrass her just by existing.”

“Your aunt is a good person,” Litha affirmed. “And so are you, Shane.”

“I don’t feel like one,” he admitted, squeezing his eyes closed hard.

She pressed a kiss against his forehead. “Let’s go inside. There’s a ratty old couch and some mildewy blankets we can sleep with.”

“We’re not going back to the farm?” Shane slurred as his vision palpitated.

Litha shook her head as she sat up. “I’m in no shape to warp right now, laddy — and I really don’t want to walk.”

He nodded and pushed off the ground, helping Litha catch her footing once he caught his own. She stretched again — the same way she had at the beach earlier that day — but now, there was nothing left to the imagination. And thanks to Shane’s blurred inhibitions, he was unembarrassed by his open mouth stare.

Litha winked, draping her body against his and kissing his chest though his shirt. “Come on in — I’m getting cold.”

***********

The ground level of Aurora Vineyard was littered with empty cans, cobwebs, and crumpled papers. Ivy and mushrooms grew through the cracks in the wood floors and paneled walls. It had been a long time since anyone had lived here, which was apparent as nature reclaimed it.

As promised, Litha had quilts stored in airtight bags in a disintegrating dresser drawer. She unfolded the largest one and spread it out on the old couch. She smoothed out the blanket and turned to face him.

Litha stood on her toes and kissed his cheek, and he placed his hands on her hips. As she began unbuttoning his shirt, she only watched his face.

“What are you doing?” He asked.

“I want to be close to you,” she said as she undid the last button and worked his sleeves off of his shoulders. She discarded his shirt on a shelf nearby.

He watched her eyes travel across the length of his torso, and it took everything he had to not shy away. Shane knew very well that his body had seen better days. Back in college, when he worked out most days a week, he’d had a nice set of abs, but they were long gone now — though the muscle definition in his arms and shoulders still remained, thanks to the long days spent breaking his back at Joja Mart.

He shook off his apprehension and took his que, kicking off his shoes and unbuttoning his shorts. Once he was done, standing fully exposed in an abandoned house with a woman he barely knew, Shane felt like a fucking idiot — that is, until Litha traced a finger through the thick trail of dark hair beneath his bellybutton.

“I like this,” she whispered. A familiar chill shot through the base of his spine as she followed that trail down, down, down, and her hand wrapped around his cock. “I like this, too.”

He was hard instantly, and grateful that he’d prepared himself as she began stroking him slowly. She slid her free hand up across his collarbones and around the back of his neck until her fingers tangled in his hair, tilting his head back until her lips found his neck.

“Do you still want to taste me?” Litha said against his skin as she quickened the torturous pace at which she rubbed his cock.

At the question alone, he almost lost control. “Fuck yes,” he ground out, cupping her ass hard with both hands for emphasis and then quickly withdrawing from her grasp. He pointed at the couch. “Middle cushion. On your knees, facing the wall,” he demanded, stroking himself steadily as he watched her climb onto the ratty couch and fix her round ass in the air.

For a moment, he just stood there and stared at her, working himself to near finish as she watched him over her shoulder. Once he couldn’t take it any longer, he sat on the ground in front of the couch with his back facing it, disregarding the filth under his ass as he fixed his head in between her legs, right under her puffy, pink lipped pussy. He figured it must have been a crime to have stuck his cock in something so perfect without even knowing how beautiful it was, first — but the scent alone was enough to bring a man to his knees.

Without wasting another second, he wrapped his hands around her thighs, and tugged her down toward his face until he finally caught the taste of her, and he knew right then that he was a peasant having a meal fit for a god. He could hardly hear her soft, breathy moans as he dined and dined, lapping up every drop of pleasure she expelled as she ground herself against his mouth.

A short time later, Litha’s cries became more frequent and higher pitched. “Shane — fuck, if you don’t stop —”

He had no intention of stopping — possibly ever. He pulled downward on her thighs again, crushing her against him as he forced his tongue into her and used his nose to brush against her clit. A few more seconds passed, and with one final sharp, desperate cry from Litha, Shane received a mouthful of the sweetest water he’d ever tasted, and as he swallowed, it only kept coming. It was all his throbbing cock needed to erupt, and as Litha sat up on her knees and caught two handfuls of his hair, Shane felt the evidence of his release spill down his shaft and onto his belly.

He swallowed one last mouthful, and no sooner realized that reality had disengaged itself around him. Maybe it was only a second wave of the luna root taking hold, but Shane’s entire body tingled with what he could only assume was magic. His limbs were weightless and his head was clear and quiet, and he knew right then that he’d kill and die to feel the same sensation even once more in his life. It was sheer, unbridled bliss — the world had never seemed so at peace.

He was spent as Litha lifted off of him, his arms lying slack at his sides as his neck still rested on the cushion's edge. He could hardly see or feel her as she cleaned him up with a piece of cloth and watched him with a sad smile.

“Let’s get you off the ground, love,” she said, tugging at his arms until he sat upright. “We should sleep now.”

Shane managed to peel the rest of himself off the ground as the universe swam around him deftly. Litha helped him lie down on his side on the couch, and then she wedged herself in front of him and pulled the blanket up around them.

For what seemed like hours, they laid there in silence as Shane savored the smell of her with his face pressed into her hair, but finally, he whispered, “I saw the face of Yoba.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “Do you think you’ll live to tell the tale?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he slurred as his senses slipped away and a heavy sleep finally began to overcome him.

Litha sighed. “You’re not in love with me, Shane. You’re in love with a chemical that seeps from my pores and orifices.” She reached a hand behind herself and gently stroked his cheek. “But that’s okay — I’ve given you no reason to love me.”

He didn’t have it in him to say another word — but even if he had, he wasn’t sure what the fuck she was talking about. Either way, it didn’t matter to him, because for the first time in years, Shane fell fast asleep with a smile on his face.

************

Tip tap tip tap tip tap tip.

Shane’s eyes shot open, and as soon as sunlight found his pupils, he was wracked with the worst headache he’d ever had in his life, only worsened by the heavy raindrops that battered the tin roof above him and dripped through onto the floors.

Litha was still fast asleep at his front, wrapped in his arms as they were both drenched in sweat and rain water. She looked like an angel, and after the night they’d had, Shane was unconvinced that she wasn’t. He really could only recall bits and pieces, but he could remember the silver wings that had materialized at her back.

He sucked in a breath at the memory, and Litha stirred, rubbing her bare ass against the fucking early riser in his pants that hardened by the second, even in the midst of his splitting headache.

She smiled, and he knew she was awake. “Mmm, well good morning, Shane,” she purred, eyes still squeezed shut.

She was so fucking perfect. How does any one person get to be so fucking perfect? He slid a hand down the dip of her side until it found her hip, pulling her ass back toward himself as he ground into her hard.

“You see what you do to me?” He asked, flexing his cock in emphasis as his teeth found the edge of her pointed ear.

She loosed a soft moan as she reached behind herself and moved to guide him in.

Shane panicked. He knew he’d forgotten something before leaving the ranch. “I don’t have a condom.”

“Good. I don’t want you to wear one,” she whispered. “I want to feel you.”

Fuck. His mind went blank as he lined himself up at her entrance and slowly pushed in, snaking an arm underneath her to cradle one of her tits.

“I was sore for two days last time,” she said through a ragged breath, squeezing her walls around him. “I thought of you every time I sat down.”

“We’ll try for three days, this time,” he whispered into her ear as he set his torturous rhythm, sliding slowly in and out while her nails dug into his arm.

“Please, Shane, faster,” Litha whined as he rolled her nipple between his fingers, nipping at her ear and breathing heavily against her neck.

“No,” he replied smoothly. “I want to savor this.” And then, against his better judgement: “And once I can’t hold it any longer, I want to come inside of you.”

“Oh, fuck,” she whimpered as his unoccupied hand found it’s way between her legs and he began tracing lazy circles around her clit.

Once the building tension had grown hot enough to warm the sun, Shane quickened his pace, slamming into her as he held onto her body for dear life. The first time they’d fucked in the saloon’s back room, Shane had been too quick off the mark to earn his reward, but now, he knew better, and his steady pace paid off in full once he felt her body tense up and the space between her thighs become drenched.

Moments later, Shane found his release, and as promised, he let it flow into her, shuddering with each ragged breath. Once they were both sated, Shane brought his fingers to his mouth, where he sucked her juices off and she hummed in approval. He immediately felt a small wave of euphoria wash over him, though it was short lived, unlike the one from last night.

“We’d better get going,” Litha said with a frown.

“Why?” Shane whined, pulling her in closer.

“Because I have work to do, sweet boy — and so do you.”

He groaned as she heaved herself off the couch, standing to stretch while Shane managed to sit upright.

Litha, being who she was, bent at the waist in front of him, fishing her robe off the floor at her feet. With a face full of ass, Shane decided to take what was offered. He placed a hand on either of her asscheeks and spread them wide, fixing his eyes on her swollen, thoroughly fucked hole, and the milky liquid that dripped out of it.

She smiled at him over her shoulder. “Come on and get dressed, Shane,” she purred, tossing him his pants.

He only winked at her, working to disguise the fact that he wasn’t sure how the fuck he was meant to part with her after a night — and morning — like that.

Chapter Text

Shane was on top of the fucking world — and he had been, ever since Summer 11. But unfortunately, Summer comes and goes, just as all great things do.

He’d been spending more time at SunnyVale than he should have been, admittedly, but how was he expected to stay away, when the sweetest dream he’d ever had was materialized into human form, at his beck and call whenever he wanted? She was utterly perfect, in every sense of the word — and Shane just couldn’t stop crawling back. The more time he spent with her, the more he loved her. It was really so simple.

For the remainder of Summer and well into Fall, Shane had followed Litha around SunnyVale Farm like a lost puppy, watching the rich, vibrant green of the land beneath his feet turn to gold, and then orange, and finally brown as the cloudless azure sky darkened sooner with each passing evening. He’d help with farm work, repairs, cooking, cleaning — it didn’t matter. He just wanted to be near her. Though as time passed them by, Shane realized something about Litha that tore him up inside — she wasn’t happy. And nothing he could do seemed to fix it.

Yet even in her discontentment, Litha performed her duties as necessary. Shane respected that about her. She’d spend long, hot days in the fields, plucking weeds and sowing seeds until her fingers bled, and then, she’d spend her nights in the old mines, stumbling home at dawn with various bloods and slimes dripping from the razor sharp iridium blade that she’d dubbed ‘Maiden,’ and a pack full of precious gems and artifacts. She’d collapse into the rickety old bed they shared without so much as a bath first, still coated in a considerable layer of soot, grit, and sweat. All the same, Shane fucked her until she called his name into the balmy, listless night, and kissed her wounds despite the tangy blood that stained his lips. In the most literal way possible, Shane was in awe of her.

Once Fall had finally ushered in and the valuable summer crops ultimately died out in favor of the autumnal, Litha had taken up a new venture — wine making.

“What the hell are these things?” He’d asked her in the early hours of Fall 8, as they emptied the bubbling kegs in the shed and refilled them with a strange hard skinned blue fruit that Shane had never seen before.

Litha shrugged, keeping her eyes on her work. “Dunno, laddy. I’ve been calling them ancient fruits.”

Shane scratched his head as he studied the strange fruit in his hand, knocking on its hard exterior, which resulted in a hollow sound. “But, like, where did they come from? Is it a Galdoran thing?” Shane had recently begun chalking all of Litha’s strange behaviors up to ‘Galdoran things.’ She hated it.

“No,” Litha huffed, staring blankly ahead. “Aye, well, maybe — but really I’m not sure. I found a petrified seed in the mines, and Gunther advised me to plant it. I have no idea how it managed to grow, but they produce hundreds of seeds per fruit, and I just kept planting them. The fuckers grow like wild fire, and their wine is twice as strong as most. Profitable stuff,” she explained.

Shane only shook his head as they finished the last of the kegging. They placed all the bottles into wheelbarrows, which they’d take to the cellar to cask.

When she’d first taken up wine making, Shane inquired as to why it had piqued her interest. She’d never given him a straight answer, but he had a couple ideas in mind. Shane figured that she either assumed it would be easier than spending long days in the fields, which it definitely wasn’t, or that she’d simply taken a stronger liking to wine than he’d known her to have before.

The latter option scared him, because realistically, Shane knew that Litha was depressed. She wouldn’t give him straight answers about that, either, but he knew what it was like to want to drown your sorrows. He wanted better for her than that, so finally, one day, he gathered the courage to ask her why she didn’t just give up the farming gig all together, in favor of something that would actually fulfill her.

They were ripping weeds when he’d asked her the question. Her fingers were blistered, and her face was sunburnt. They’d been in the fields for hours. “I’ve endured many hard days of work in my lifetime, yet none of them honest,” she’d confessed, wiping sweat from her face in the heat of her frustration. “These hands were meant to wield a blade, Shane — not to pull weeds. But this is my life, now — my legacy.”

Shane marked the way she scoffed at the mention of her legacy. “You don’t need a legacy, Li — a million years could pass, and they’d never forget a face like yours.”

She granted him a smile, and he gave her one back, and it was all they needed to abandon their tools and take to the cabin, where Shane peeled away her sticky clothes like a second skin and buried his face in her sweaty pussy until his jaw ached and every stroke of his tongue resulted in a tremor.

Over the past season, he’d learned a lot about Litha. Well, maybe not a lot, because he still didn’t know a goddamn thing about her apart from her name and the land she’d hailed from — but he’d certainly learned how she liked her pussy eaten, and that counted for something. He’d gotten so proficient that he could make her come in five minutes flat, and then again every two minutes after that until she was panting, squirming, and begging him for mercy. And after some time, Shane found that he liked to hear her beg — he liked to feel needed.

Yet even after the long nights they’d spend tangled up together, and the afterglow which almost always involved Shane shedding tears as he declared his love for her, she still looked so fucking sad. Something was missing from her — he just couldn’t place what that something was. As time passed, it became apparent that Litha was searching for that missing piece at the bottom of her fancy wine bottles.

One night, in particular, Shane had come back from his day spent with Jas at the ranch, and Litha was lying asleep on the couch, one of said bottles sitting open and half empty on the coffee table. He carried her unconscious body to bed and tucked her in, and then he made to dispose of the bottle, rather than letting it attract bugs. Just as he began to dump the rest down the sink, something in his brain turned over. He didn’t have it in himself to dump out half a bottle of expensive wine, even if it was taking a toll on the woman he’d become madly in love with.

He only stared at the bottle in hand for a moment, and then, he brought it up to his nose, and sniffed it. The mouth of the bottle smelled like Litha’s breath — a scent he could detect from miles away — but also, of course, it smelled like ferment, sweeter than any he’d ever encountered.

For the past season, Shane had been totally dry. Well, not totally — because of course, there was Litha, and whatever enchanted liquid flowed from her that always somehow sent him into a state of bliss — but in terms of alcohol, Shane had none.

Wine had never been his poison of choice, so what could it really hurt to just give it a taste? Admittedly, he’d been curious about the wine made from the fruit born of a petrified cave seed. He wiped all the thoughts from his brain, and he took a sip — just a small one.

It was like nothing he’d ever tasted before. It was somehow bright, yet warm, and acidic, yet fatty. It was savory, but at the same time, it was sweet. He took another sip. And another. And another. By the time the bottle was empty, Shane understood the market value. It was a drink he just couldn’t figure out — but also, he was fucking trashed. Off half a bottle of wine, nonetheless. He flopped down onto the couch, bottle still in hand, and as soon as his ass hit the cushion, he just really fucking wanted to watch a good gridball game, but he was shit out of luck, because Litha didn’t own a television.

“Television smooths out yer brain, sweet boy — we have no need for that,” she’d explained once when he’d suggested they get one.

She was such a fucking snob. He’d never loved another thing more.

**************

Shane awoke on Fall 16 to his phone buzzing underneath his head, and the orange barn cat, who Litha had named Satsuma, pawing at his toes. Marnie’s name flashed across the screen.

“Yeah?” Shane answered, stifling a yawn.

On the other end of the line, Marnie scoffed. “How about a hello, son?”

“Sorry,” he grunted. “It’s early.”

“I know it’s early, Shane. You were supposed to be here an hour ago to help me pack up our spread for the fair,” Marnie insisted, letting her annoyance flow freely.

“Shit,” he grumbled, throwing himself out of bed. “I’ll be there soon.” He hung up as he glanced over to Litha’s side of the bed. She was long gone, her pillow cold to the touch.

Shane stumbled through the vacant cabin as his pupils struggled to constrict against the morning light. He’d overindulged last night without a doubt, but the day was new, and no one was any the wiser — so he washed his face, filled Satsuma’s bowl with kibble, and started his walk down to the ranch at a brisk pace, thankful for the cooling weather. Litha was nowhere to be found, but Shane assumed that she’d only gotten a head start on her booth for the fair. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure why anyone else was trying, because Litha grew the most impressive crops in the valley by far. He’d even venture to say that her animal products were superior, as well.

Though he’d probably never tell Marnie that — and definitely not as he walked through the front door of the ranch to find her standing behind her counter, arms crossed and brows furrowed.

“Shane Michael! Have you lost your head?” Marnie demanded as she rounded the counter to invade his personal space. Shane took a step back, and she only kept advancing. Her eyes went wide. “Have you… been drinking?”

Fuck. He’d never once been able to hide something from Marnie, but regardless, he had to give it a valiant effort. “No,” he insisted, averting his eyes from her. “I just didn’t sleep much last night.” That part wasn’t necessarily a lie — he and Litha stayed up until 5:00AM, exploring one another until exhaustion finally took them.

“I’ve never known sleep deprivation to make one reek of wine, Shane.” Marnie shook her head in that special way of hers, letting him know that something was brewing in her head. “I don’t think that girl is good for you.”

Unexpectedly, he felt his temper flare. “She’s more than good for me, Marnie. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, actually — not that it’s any of your fucking business.”

Marnie’s jaw nearly hit the floor. “She’s clouding your judgement, son! What about Jas? Charlie?” Marnie raked a hand through her hair in exasperation. “Even me, Shane! There are people that count on you — and we haven’t seen hide nor hair of you since mid summer!” A tear slipped down Marnie’s cheek, and it hit him like a shit ton of bricks.

For a moment he was silent, but finally, he said, “You’re right — I’m sorry. I forgot what it was like to feel this fucking good, and I got carried away.”

Marnie’s eyes softened, and she pulled him into a bear hug, smothering him with the smell of cloves and fresh hay. “We all get carried away sometimes, my boy — just don’t ever lose your way back home.” She patted him on the cheek and turned to pick up a box. “Now come on and help me load the cart — times a wastin’.”

“Where’s Jas?” Shane asked suddenly upon realizing that he hadn’t seen his daughter in days. He heaved the largest box off the ground — it was full of cheese.

Marnie held the door open for him. “She spent the night at Vincent’s house. I knew I wouldn’t have time to tend to her this morning.”

Shane dropped the box in the cart and turned to face his aunt as she gently placed her box of wool next to the cheese. “Shit, Marnie — I’m really sorry. I should have been here,” he surrendered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m gonna do better, I promise. I’ll let Litha know not to expect me tonight when I see her at the fair.”

Marnie only nodded. “I think that’s for the best, Shane.”

They loaded a few of their best animals into the cart, and they were off.

***********

Shane and Marnie set up their display according to a very specific plan Marnie had drawn up. As she placed each item strategically, she’d periodically glance toward Litha’s table, and each time, she’d scoff.

“Out with it, Marnie,” Shane said with an exasperated sigh.

“Your girlfriend’s display sure does look nice,” she mocked, throwing it another glance over her shoulder.

She wasn’t wrong. The SunnyVale Farm booth was jam packed full of verdant produce, massive white and brown eggs, cheeses, wools, cloth, wines, jellies, juices, oils, smelted bars of fine metals — Shane wasn’t even aware that Litha’s farm produced such a variety — yet Litha herself was nowhere to be found.

Once Shane unfolded and settled into a seat next to the chicken coops, he spotted Olivia chatting with her friends near the entrance to Pierre’s. She placed a hand on Caroline’s shoulder and nodded, apparently excusing herself. She gave Shane a very pointed look before slowly making her way toward her house. Shane felt a lump form in his throat. Did she… want him to follow? Fuck.

He didn’t bother to even entertain the possibility. He turned his head in the opposite direction, and just then, Litha materialized, dropping into Shane’s lap and wrapping her arms around his neck as she smacked a kiss on his cheek. Her breath smelled off, and he knew right away that she’d been drinking. Shane couldn’t help but notice that her skin looked different than usual — sallow, maybe. Everyone was staring at them — and Litha didn’t care.

From across the booth, Marnie’s eyes were nearly popping out of her skull. At her side, Jas looked confused.

Shane wrapped his arms around Litha’s waist and rested his head against her shoulder. It felt nice — to love her publicly. “What’s up, pinkie?”

“Waiting for Lewis to give me my prize,” Litha teased, smirking at him. She crossed her legs, and her short floral dress slid up her thigh. She put her mouth next to his ear. “Wanna sneak off somewhere in the meantime?”

He righted her dress, and she frowned. “I can’t, Li. I have to watch the booth.”

“Marnie is watching the booth,” Litha pouted. “You can’t make time for a quickie?”

He felt himself beginning to harden as she rubbed his chest, and then, the panic set in. There were so many fucking people watching them — or at least, it felt that way. “Litha, please. Not right now.”

She huffed and swung her legs off of him. “Aye.”

Shane tightened his grip on her waist, holding her in place. “Don’t stand up yet,” he pleaded.

“Why not?” She pouted, leaning against him and brushing her lips against his ear. “Is something wrong, Shane?”

“No,” he strained as she ground her ass against him.

“Poor lad,” Litha crooned. “I could fix it, if you’d let me.”

Shane glanced around, feeling himself throb beneath her. He resigned. “Where?”

She smiled triumphantly. “Back room at the saloon? Just like old times.”

“I can’t stand up right now,” Shane informed her.

“It’s fine, Shane — just pick up a box and carry it low. No one will know.” Litha hopped off of his lap, and as instructed, Shane picked up the nearest box full of random bullshit.

Marnie balked at him, but Shane ignored her as he and Litha cut around the back of the saloon and slipped through the door. As predicted, the bar was vacant.

Shane dropped the box by the door and Litha took his hand, tugging him toward the back. He hadn’t seen the storage space since Sean rearranged it, but it was still just as dusty — though everything was in neat stacks against the far wall, now.

He didn’t waste a second before pulling Litha into his arms and crushing his mouth against hers. She laughed as she frantically stumbled out of her underwear, and Shane caught her elbow just before gravity took over. Despite the unwelcome diversion from his day, Shane couldn’t help but smile at her — couldn’t help but to revel in these stolen moments with her, when shit just seemed… simple.

She slid her jacket off her shoulders, and as it fell down her arms, Shane planted kisses in its wake, all the way down from her neck to the top of her shoulder. Her skin tasted of hard work, and her hair smelled like crisp leaves, and since Shane had met her, he’d learned to love what the planet had to offer, and the way that the aromas of the elements mingled with her very being. He was smitten with the soot, and salt, and dirt — he was smitten with her, in general.

She tangled her hands in his hair, and he undid the button on his pants, and all the while, his mouth remained at her neck. His hands engulfed her soft hips, and he spun her, pressing her upper body down against a stack of crates.

Litha spread her legs for him hungrily as he shoved the hem of her dress up over her ass and gave it a firm smack before burying himself inside her, gritting his teeth against the white hot tension within her.

She yelped as Shane reached the back of her walls, and he decided right then that he could never love another sound more. Her knees buckled as he slammed into her over and over again, but Shane kept her upright, squeezing her hips tight as he held on for dear life. “Yes, Shane,” she breathed. “Fuck me like you paid for me.”

He’d never understand how she knew exactly what to say to make his balls tighten. He took a hand off her hip and wrapped it around the back of her neck, holding her down as their skin collided loudly and rapidly. “You’re such a fucking whore, Litha. Fuck, I love you,” he growled as he felt her walls tighten and her breathing become uneven. “I love you so fucking much.”

Suddenly, Litha’s body jerked, and Shane barely heard her whisper “oh, no” as liquid splashed against the floor, their shoes, and Litha’s shins. It was all Shane needed to come undone, filling her as his legs trembled beneath him.

For a moment, they stayed like that, with him inside of her and a puddle at their feet, their breath syncing up as Shane hunched over Litha’s back. But finally, they knew it was time to go. Shane fixed his pants and picked her pink thong up off the ground as she slid her jacket back into place. Litha reached for her underwear, and Shane quickly snatched his hand away, jamming the little scrap of lace into his pocket.

“I’ll keep these,” he whispered into her ear before kissing it. “I’m gonna stay at the ranch for a little while, so I’ll need them to hold me over.”

Litha’s smile faltered, and her head tilted to the side. “Why?”

“Marnie needs my help around the ranch, and Jas needs her dad,” he explained carefully.

“Oh,” she mumbled, looking dismayed. “I understand.”

“I’ll miss you, though,” he supplied.

“And I’ll miss you,” Litha said, trailing off as her eyes cast down to the puddle at her feet and the droplets on her black boots.

“I’ll go grab some paper towels,” Shane offered. “Stay still, or you’ll track it across the floor.”

She nodded and he dipped out into the bar, creeping slowly and quietly, as if he’d be caught. Once he came to the end of the long hall that led to the storage room and rounded the corner, he saw Marnie, standing with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face in the main room. Shane knew damn well that he’d been found out — considering his unruly hair, swollen mouth, and red cheeks.

“Shane Michael! Do you have no shame, my boy?” She shouted, throwing her arms in the air.

Shane approached her quickly. “Keep your voice down,” he demanded, embarrassment heating the backs of his ears.

“I will do no such thing, Shane! I can’t believe you! This is a family event, and you’re off canoodling with the town harlot while your daughter is outside wondering where you are!” A tear slid down Marnie’s cheek, and while Shane would generally back down at the sight of his aunt crying, this time was different.

Shane slammed a flat palm against the bar, and the sound echoed through the full building. “Don’t you ever fucking call her that again, Marnie,” he seethed, his face just inches from hers. “Never again. Do you hear me?”

Marnie was taken aback. She and Shane had their fair share of arguments, but for him to be so violent… she was terrified. “I hear you,” she whispered as her nephew towered over her, red in the face and fuming with rage.

Some of the tension left Shane. He wasn’t sure exactly what had come over him. “Good,” he whispered. “Now, go back to our booth and tell Jas that I had to help Litha get supplies from the saloon.”

Marnie nodded and scurried away. Shane located a roll of paper towels and took them back to Litha, who looked extremely uneasy.

“If I thought Marnie hated me before, she really hates me now,” Litha sighed.

“Don’t worry about her,” Shane grumbled as he dropped to his knees at her feet and began wiping off her boots and clearing the small puddle.

“You look nice on your knees,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair lovingly.

Shane looked up at her and noticed that her skin had regained its glow. He lifted up the front of her dress and pressed a kiss right above her bare slit. “For no one but you, Li.”

She bent down and kissed the top of his head, and then they returned to the fair hand in hand, as if nothing had ever happened.

***********

Shane hadn’t seen nor spoken to Litha in over twenty four hours. He was miserable.

The ranch was so fucking boring. Shane had never noticed just how boring it actually was before Litha had flipped his world upside down. And on top of the mind numbing monotony of it all, Shane and Marnie were tiptoeing around one another, and tensions were higher than ever.

Marnie was upset that Shane hadn’t apologized for his behavior, or his outburst, or anything at all really — and Shane was content to let her stew in it, because he’d never been so on edge in his entire life.

He’d adopted his old vices. There was no way or reason to sugar coat it — Shane was in the throes of a full blown relapse, because he was bored. And Marnie, being who she was, wouldn’t let him hear the end of it.

“It’s not enough just to be here, Shane!” Marnie yelled through his closed door on the day of her birthday. “You have a child to care for, and you have work to do! Take Jas to the park, tend to the chickens, call Ian or Sean to see if they need any help — just do something!”

She was right — but he simply didn’t want to do anything that didn’t involve Litha or whisky. So he stayed in bed, and he stayed fucking trashed. Even Litha’s pink thong couldn’t console him, no matter how many times he jerked off with it wrapped around his face. It was all the proof Shane needed to be sure that he really loved her — she was more than a pair of dirty panties to him.

Four days post-Litha, Shane was tangled up in his oily sheets in the early hours of the day when he heard something slide under his door, followed by small footsteps retreating through the kitchen. He hadn’t yet been to sleep, but instead, he’d been nursing a fifth, staring blankly at the ceiling as he took inventory of his body, trying to figure out what the fuck had gone missing and why he felt so damn hollow.

He propped himself up on his elbows to find a folded sheet of notebook paper sitting in front of his door. He swung his legs out of bed and stood — maybe a bit too quickly, because as soon as his body was upright, his head spun out of control, and Shane hit the ground — hard.

He was drowning — maybe? Maybe not. But whatever the fuck was going on, his face and neck were soaked, and there was water flowing over them, still. He opened his eyes, and there was Litha, standing over him like an angel, watering can in hand. Maybe he did drown, and this was heaven.

“Shane!” Marnie called, hoisting him out of his trance. His head started pounding. “Shane, are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and leaving his face plastered against the floor for a moment longer. “I’m good.”

“All you’ve done for the past three days is mope around and drink, Shane. I’m worried about you!”

“You wouldn’t understand,” was all he could manage.

“Shane, you can’t keep on this way, my dear boy! You haven’t any plans for your future! What will become of you?” Marnie begged, kneeling down to place a hand on his upper back.

“Ideally, I won’t be around long enough to have a future, Marnie. Lay off of it,” he bit out, looking up to glare at her, only to find Jas peeking her head around the corner, looking utterly fucking heartbroken.

Jas jerked her head away from the door and Shane could hear her sobbing as she ran away. Marnie gave him a disdainful look before following, and without a single word, Litha disappeared with them, her face twisted with concern and shock.

Shane wouldn’t be content until he’d successfully fucked up his entire life.

***********

The next afternoon, Shane awoke with an unexpected sense of resoluteness. It could have had something to do with the fact that he’d gotten some sleep after embarrassing his own ass off the day before, but regardless of where it had come from, he decided to use it while he had it.

It was a Sunday, which Shane happened to know was Litha’s one day a week that she took off work. She’d generally fill her day with random activities that she didn’t have time to partake in during the week, and then, once the sun began to set, she’d take to the bar to spend her night drinking and dancing.

After what she’d seen the previous day, Shane decided to surprise her, in a bleak attempt at trying to win back whatever favor he’d lost. So once the sky began to darken, he set his plan in motion.

He put on nice clothes — well, not nice, but nice for Shane. Some clean black jeans and the only button up shirt he owned — a blue one. He combed his hair and brushed his teeth, and on the way out the door, he left his hoodie in favor of a nice dark leather jacket he found buried in his closet. It fit him — barely.

His first stop was Pierre’s. As usual, he ignored every single person that he passed by on his way, but today, he noticed that most of them weren’t even looking at him. Maybe they’d never actually been looking at him in the first place, and it had only seemed that way because he was so fucking paranoid about it.

He stepped into the general store right before close, and he walked straight to the counter. “I need a bouquet,” he said firmly. “Please.”

Pierre looked genuinely confused, but he took one out of the fridge and handed it over. Shane paid him, and he was on his way.

Just as the sun had finally set, Shane arrived at Stardrop, pushing his hair back with one hand as he gripped the flowers with the other. He was about to look like a damn fool showing up at the bar on a Sunday night with a bouquet of flowers in hand, but still, he didn’t give a shit.

He tugged open the door and stepped into the music filled main room. His eyes navigated to Litha’s usual spot, but he found it empty. Maybe she hadn’t arrived yet.

Shane took a seat at the bar, setting the flowers down on the surface beside him. Emily saw him immediately, and had the decency not to mention the flowers at all.

“Shane, hey!” Emily said warmly, leaning against the bar and giving him a smile. “What’ll it be?”

“Just a beer, Em — thanks.”

“Coming right up.” Emily promised with a wink.

From the next room over, Shane heard a giggle. Typically, he would have just minded his own business, but something inside him suggested otherwise.

The giggle had come from Abigail, who sat in her usual spot on a couch near the pool table, but when Shane craned his neck a little further, he saw her — Litha.

Her arm was draped around Abigail’s shoulder, and her tongue was down her throat in some crude display of PDA. Maybe he was a hypocrite, but the girl genuinely had no fucking shame. Shane felt like he was going to throw up.

He stood up abruptly, the stool underneath him groaning against the wood floors. Litha’s eyes flicked up, and she saw him standing there like a fucking fool, flowers in hand and jaw on the ground. She didn’t have the decency to stop — or even to look alarmed. Instead, she maintained eye contact as she slid a hand into Abigail’s hair, tugging to tilt her head back as her lips worked their way down the purple haired girl’s throat.

Shane slammed the beer that Emily had just delivered him. He paid for it, thanked her, and walked right out the door, discarding the bouquet into the garbage bin outside the door.

He’d been such a fucking idiot.

Chapter Text

The weather had finally become cold enough for Shane to wear his hoodie again without looking like a fucking weirdo. He tried not to think about how chilly his fingers were as he kept them buried in his pockets, because paying mind to it would only give way to the urge to reach his destination faster.

Word travels fast in Pelican Town. Just as quickly as the village gossip hounds had caught wind of his involvement with the new farmer, they’d caught wind that she’d betrayed him. So, naturally, Marnie was aware of Litha’s disloyalty within one day, though Shane hadn’t spoken a word about it, and then the following day, Shane received a call from Ian.

“Hey, man, Olivia asked us to have you come over and move some boxes for her.” Ian went quiet for a moment, and Shane could feel the conversation turning awkward. “I don’t know if you’re, uh —”

Shane was still in bed. It was almost 2:00PM, yet he hadn’t even got up to piss. “Yeah, I’ll be there,” he grumbled, hanging up on Ian and fixing his eyes on the sagging ceiling fan above him.

He knew it was no coincidence that Olivia needed boxes moved today — but what he didn’t know was whether or not he had it in him to make that trek across town and give her what she’d been pining for since that fucking day in her dark, eerie cellar.

As his feet carried him down Willow Lane, he realized he was about to discover just how strong of a hold Litha truly had on him.

**********

When Shane arrived at the Jenkins’ Estate, the door was slightly ajar — which Shane found surprising in contrast to the locks that Victor had undone last time Shane had visited. He peeked through the crack, and the door squeaked open further, echoing through the seemingly vacant foyer.

“Hello?” Shane called reluctantly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Victor? Mrs. Jenkins?”

“Come in, Shane,” he heard Olivia call from a distance, her voice carrying through the narrow halls like that of a ghost.

His spine stiffened at the sound of her, but still, he gathered up every ounce of courage in his body, and navigated toward the stairs. The estate was quiet like a fucking tomb, and all of the thick, opaque curtains were drawn tightly, leaving the rooms dark. Once he stepped into the library, he noticed that only the sitting room to its right was illuminated, the flickering light of a fire dancing along the walls that Shane himself had painted red.

He stepped cautiously into the room, yet nothing could have prepared him for what he saw: Olivia, lying leisurely atop a bear skin rug, dressed only in black lace lingerie and glittering diamonds at her neck and ears. She unsnapped a garter strap as he approached, mischief swimming in her dark eyes as the buckle whipped against her skin. “Hello, Shane.”

Shane couldn’t move as he took in the sight of her, lying exposed before him while the light of the crackling fire glowed gold against her pale skin and shining black curls. She had at least fifteen years on him, but right then, he didn’t give a fuck. Maybe it was only vengeance whispering in his ear, or maybe it was his mommy issues at play, but all the same, he felt himself throbbing as he passed by the couch to stand at the edge of the rug. The bear's face seemed to taunt him with its grotesquely open mouth and sharp teeth. He tried to ignore it.

Shane cleared his throat. “Are you sure you want this?”

Olivia’s smile was purely sardonic as she undid the front closure of her bra. “I’ve wanted this since I first laid eyes on you,” she purred, freeing her round and very clearly enhanced tits from her bra as she slid it off her shoulders. “I know your type, dear. Sad, lonely, depraved — low inhibitions make for a formidable lover, you see. There’s a good reason why I’ve never remarried.” She reached a hand up toward him as she ground her thighs together. “My son has gone to the city today for an array of job interviews that I arranged — I wanted the estate all to myself.”

Shane discarded his shirt and pants hastily, trying not to think about Litha, and the fact that the only thing he’d really been able to get off to in the comfort of his bedroom lately had been her little pink thong. Porn hadn’t been doing it for him the way it used to. He glanced down at Olivia, whose red mouth was rounded into a perfect O shape as she watched him undress.

She chuckled, fixing herself on her knees in front of him. “It’s bigger than I would have guessed,” she mused as she ran a finger across the length of him. “Do you think it will fit?” Olivia teased.

“I’ll make it fit,” Shane growled as he worked a hand into her hair and tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “I don’t want anyone to know about this,” he informed her.

Olivia only looked amused. “I won’t tell your aunt, Shane. She’s a decent woman — it would bring me no joy to upset her.”

Shane nodded and released his hold on her. “Good.”

“Now, be quiet, and me help you,” she crooned softly as she slowly took him into her mouth.

Shane gasped as Olivia’s teeth scraped his cock and her red lipstick smeared on his skin. He’d never been one to like it toothy, but as she swallowed him deeper and deeper without a single cough or gag, he decided he didn’t mind. All things considered, he was getting a pretty fucking great blowjob from a very attractive older woman — yet still, at the back of his mind, there was only Litha, and the way that Shane kind of actually liked the way she gagged when he hit the back of her throat. Maybe it was a little rewarding, in a way.

He squeezed his eyes closed and focused as hard as he could manage on the task at hand — lasting long enough to ensure that Olivia didn’t laugh him out of the estate. Though admittedly, she was sucking at a speed he found suspect. Did she actually want him to come quickly? She looked up at him expectantly through her dark lashes, and Shane knew it to be true — yet there was no way in hell he’d give her the satisfaction.

He wove his fingers into her hair again, holding her head in place. “Did you order me here because you wanted to get fucked, or not, Olivia?” He asked boldly.

“I invited you here,” she started slowly, wiping her mouth with the back of her wrist, “to help you get over that little farmer girl that broke your heart.”

Shane’s heart ached in his chest. “Bringing her up won’t help,” he bit out, dropping to his knees before her. “But if you think you can help me… please.” To his own surprise, he was being sincere. He couldn’t take this fatigue that came along with missing her — this mental and physical depletion that burned holes through his already teetering will to live.

Olivia placed a hand on either side of his face. “I can help you, Shane,” she whispered, something between triumph and pity in her eyes. “Permitting that you’ll let me.”

Shane only nodded, and Olivia Jenkins pulled him down onto the rug, embarking on her first of many fruitless attempts to fix him. They always wanted to fucking fix him.

**********

Shane had never worked so many consecutive days in his life. Well — calling it work was a stretch, but either way, he was showing up, faithfully.

Olivia had requested him every day for the past four days, and without hesitation, he went to her — at any time of the day she beckoned him. Twice, when he walked through town toward the estate, he passed Litha, who he dutifully ignored without so much as a glance in her direction. On those days in particular, he’d fuck Olivia so roughly that she’d reprimand him. But after the first time, Shane realized that he liked to be reprimanded. He considered occasionally acting out of turn just for fun.

Even in his bitterness, he had to admit — the sex was damn good. Granted, Olivia was not Litha. Her pussy wasn’t as sweet, or tight, and she didn’t make that cute little noise when Shane did that one thing with his tongue — but at the forefront of it all, he didn’t love her.

Yet regardless, he enjoyed himself — thoroughly. The sneaking around, the power play, the animalistic nature of it all — it had become one of the only things he looked forward to anymore. But still, when he’d go home after work, Litha remained the only thing on his mind as he lay awake in bed. If he could just talk to her, only once, maybe he’d feel better — but his pride wouldn’t let him.

Though nighttime had been reserved specifically for brooding over Litha, Olivia and her absolute willingness for him bookended each of those sleepless nights pretty fucking faithfully. Shane still wasn’t sure why exactly Olivia had come to lust for him, but he’d been tossing around the idea of her simply getting off on the depravity of it all — the prospect of being caught. Because, after all, what was more scandalous than someone of Olivia’s status stooping so fucking low? It seemed as good of a reason as any — certainly no better than him using her as his own personal distraction. And just when he’d thought their little game was actually starting to pay off — Spirit’s Eve rolled around.

Marnie spent the day perfecting Jas’s butterfly costume, and Shane supervised. Spirit’s Eve was one of Jas’s favorite holidays, so he played along as expected — not that it was hard to play along. The pumpkin ale was a fucking delicacy, after all.

Jas insisted that Shane and Marnie dress up, as well. Marnie was delighted to let Jas put a cow ear headband in her red hair, but when it came time for Shane to put a chicken hat on his head, things got rocky.

“You have to do it, Shae. If you don’t dress up, the spirits will know it’s you, and they’ll get you!” Jas explained theatrically, the sparkly makeup on her eyelids making it difficult to take her seriously.

Shane chuckled and glanced sidelong at his aunt as Jas ran off in search of other costume options. “Where does she get this shit?” Shane whispered.

“Many still believe it to be true,” she informed him, her brows raising slowly.

Shane shrugged. “Weirder shit has happened.”

What a fucking understatement.

*********

A cow, chicken, and butterfly all walk into a festival — and it’s not the setup for a lewd joke. It’s just Shane and his ragtag bunch attending Spirit’s Eve.

In light of the chicken hat strapped firmly to his head, Shane headed straight for the refreshments, filled a plastic cup, and sulked off into a dark corner. He just as easily could have removed the hat, but it seemed that Jas was genuinely concerned that her godfather would be eaten by spirits without it. He wasn’t a total asshole, so he left it on, but still, he hoped with all his might that he wouldn’t be faced with Litha or Olivia.

Within moments, Sean and Ian somehow located him. They were both dressed as superheroes, complete with tin foil armor and capes made of sheets.

“Chicken man!” Sean bellowed as they approached, sloshing liquid out of the cup in his hand. “That’s the coolest hat I’ve ever seen.”

Shane scoffed. “Thanks.” He raised his cup toward them with a nod.

“So,” Ian started, clearing his throat awkwardly. “How’s Mrs. Jenkins estate coming along?”

Shane narrowed his eyes at them as Sean stifled a laugh. “It’s going to… require a lot more attention,” Shane decided, shrugging like he wasn’t caught up in some seriously scandalous shit. He cast his eyes over toward Olivia and Victor, who were dressed very ironically as vampires.

Sean snickered. “Heard. I’d say to let us know if you need any help, but please don’t.”

Ian’s cheeks turned red. “Please don’t,” he reiterated.

Suddenly, the three of them heard a delighted squeal, and before they could even locate the source, Shane knew it was Litha. Within seconds, he spotted her on the steps leading toward the maze, and his posture stiffened. Ian and Sean’s eyes followed Shane’s, and the air became thick with tension.

Litha, who was dressed up as something reminiscent of a white cat, had jumped into the arms of the same magenta haired man that Shane had spotted her with once or twice before. He wasn’t wearing a costume, but he might as well have been, with armor like that.

“Who the fuck is that guy?” Shane grumbled to no one in particular. It was rare for him to not know someone’s name — he was a people watcher, after all, always on the sidelines.

Ian’s mouth hung open. “That’s Lance,” he said expectantly.

“Who the fuck is Lance?” Shane demanded. “Some random guy from the guild, or what?”

Sean chuckled awkwardly. “He’s kind of a big deal. I overheard Marlon talking about him one time when I was up at the summit doing some repairs on the guild clubhouse — apparently he’s a real badass.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He downed the rest of the ale in his cup and moved past them.

He refilled his cup and then claimed a seat near the caged skeleton, but rather than watching the bony anomaly that lumbered around behind the bars, he fixed his eyes on Litha, who must have been freezing her ass off in her skimpy white costume. Her feet and lower legs were engulfed in white furry boots, and her hands were covered by furry white gloves, but as for her shoulders, thighs, and midsection… they were fully exposed, as she was dressed in only a fuzzy little tube shirt and skirt combo. Leave it to Litha to make a cat look slutty. At least she was wearing a pair of ears in her hair, which wasn’t in pigtails for once.

He was sick and fucking tired of hiding from her, even though she was still talking to Lance as the two of them leaned against the railing of the stairs and huddled in close. Litha kept giggling — but not like Shane was used to. The Litha that Shane had become familiar with had the laugh of a rabid hyena, and oddly, it had become one of his favorite sounds. Whatever this watered down bullshit was… it was an act.

He watched her until Lance ultimately kissed her cheek and excused himself, heading straight for the pitchers of ale. Shane couldn’t help but think that she had to be fucking everyone in town at this point, despite the fact that he could feel Olivia’s eyes on his back, and he’d forgone his right to be judgemental. He felt like an asshole, but Litha deserved as much.

Finally, she stepped off the stairs and began scanning the crowd — inevitably searching for her next target — when her eyes caught on Shane, and she immediately looked flustered. She crossed her arms and came strutting in his direction. Shane braced himself as she stopped in front of him. Only then did he remember that he was wearing a chicken hat.

She scrunched her face, the whiskers painted on her cheeks crinkling. “Can we talk?” Litha snapped.

Shane shrugged and took a long drink. “Sure — but if you think my dick is coming out of my pants, you’ve lost your fucking mind.”

Litha’s mouth fell open as Shane climbed out of his seat, but she recovered quickly. “Fine, fine,” she assured him. “Let’s walk the maze.”

Shane didn’t bother pointing out how appropriate that seemed. He assumed she was already aware. “Go on, then,” he mumbled, gesturing toward the stairs where she’d been buttering up Lance Badass just moments ago.

Once they were immersed within the winding rat trap of hedges, Litha sighed dramatically. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly mercurial, Shane?”

Shane felt the back of his ears heat up. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re not supposed to make out with other people when you have a boyfriend, Litha?” He snapped.

Litha scoffed, dragging her fingers through her hair. “Yes, of course. Fortunately, I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah, not anymore.”

Litha froze in place and spun to face him. He nearly tripped trying to halt himself. “Is that what this is all about, Shane? You’ve been avoiding me again because you’re jealous?”

“Of course I’m fucking jealous, Li! How could I not be?” He cried. “This past season has been the first time in a long time that I’ve felt alive. Did you really expect me not to fucking fall in love with you?”

“You’re not in love with me, Shane,” she mumbled, her face falling.

Shane could feel his blood boiling. How fucking dare she? “I do love you, Litha. Do you want to know how I know that? Do you even give a fuck?”

“Please, Shane — educate me.”

“Even burying my dick in Olivia Jenkins hasn’t gotten you out of my goddamn head,” he seethed, leaning in close enough that he could smell her skin. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve done to my brain, Li — but it’s love. I know it is.”

For a moment, she only stared at him, their faces just inches apart. “You fucked Olivia Jenkins?” She asked, so deathly quiet that it actually frightened him.

He nodded — the words just weren’t coming to him.

To his surprise, Litha looked hurt. “You’re a fucking asshole, Shane.”

“And you’re a fucking hypocrite.”

“No, I am not. I wasn’t aware that you were expecting monogamy from me, Shane — especially after telling me about your relationship with your goddaughter's parents. I was just going about my life — but you fucked Olivia to hurt my feelings,” Litha insisted, furry fists balled at her sides. “It’s different.”

While Shane had disclosed the nature of his relationship with Dray and Annemarie to the pissed off fairy girl standing before him, he sure as fuck hadn’t mentioned the shitty nature in which it began. “So you just thought you’d fuck everyone in town, and I wouldn’t have a damn thing to say about it?”

“I’m just doing what I need to do to survive, Shane,” Litha said through clenched teeth. “You weren’t meant to take it personally.”

“Oh, so it’s about survival, now! Does Lance give you a treat every time you suck his dick? What is it, Litha?” Shane cried in frustration as he threw his hands in the air. “I don’t see the point in being so fucking cryptic.”

“It’s a fucking curse, Shane!” Litha bellowed, desperation swimming in her eyes. “I’m fucking cursed, and every day I live, I’m merely surviving by any means necessary. I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s the truth.”

Despite his anger, he did understand, in some small way. Not that he could disclose it — not that he believed her. “You’re full of shit. ”

Her face fell into her hands. “In Galdora, they call it the Serpent’s Claim, but for all intents and purposes, I’m a succubus, Shane, and everything about me is made to appeal to you. I’m a walking mouse trap — it isn’t my fault that you took the bait.”

For a moment, Shane forgot how to talk, but the look in her eyes begged him to say something. “What does any of that mean, Li?”

“It means that my primary source of nourishment is lust, and you’ve spent the past season feeding me,” she explained in a deadpan tone, tears brimming in her distant eyes. For the first time since he’d known her, she had the decency to look ashamed.

“So… you used me. You literally chewed me up and spit me out. And what do I have to show for it?” Shane couldn’t keep his mind from roaming back to their night spent at the abandoned vineyard. She’d even told him then that he was simply in love with a chemical that seeped from her body. He hadn’t understood then, but now…

She shook her head. “You have absolutely nothing to show for it, Shane, and though you might not truly love me, I do love you.”

“It is love, Litha. I’m not going to let you convince me otherwise,” Shane insisted, catching her fingers in his. “Where do we go from here?”

She laid a gloved hand on his cheek. “Go home, Shane. I’ll do the same.” Litha brushed a kiss against his lips. “I think it’s for the best.”

Shane nodded, willing himself not to cry. He wasn’t even sure why he had the urge to — what the point was anymore.

So they navigated through the maze hand in hand, and when they emerged on the other end, the first face Shane saw through the hedges was Olivia’s, and she did not look amused. Fuck.

**********

Was Shane actually stupid enough to have fallen for a fucking succubus? A creature that he hadn’t even known was real at the beginning of the day? And how was he to know that she’d even been telling the truth?

As Shane and Jas walked hand in hand back toward the ranch, he couldn’t stop thinking about Litha — couldn’t stop considering all the wrong avenues he’d taken. Mercifully, he’d managed to avoid not only Olivia, but also Marnie, as Lewis had asked her to stay behind and help clean up. Shane made up some bullshit about needing to get Jas into bed, despite the fact that the kid was so hopped up on sugar that she hadn’t stopped talking in over an hour.

When they finally arrived at the ranch, Shane wrestled with her on the ground for about twenty minutes before she was spent. His body was really not a fan of the physical exertion after he’d had more cups of pumpkin ale than he could count, but it was worth it to tire her out, because truthfully, he just wanted to fucking go to bed. He had no interest in sneaking off to Olivia’s house, or even burying his face in Litha’s pink thong — the only thing that appealed to him was sleep. So he put Jas to bed and headed straight for his own, where he stripped all his clothes off and buried himself in his squeaky mattress.

***********

He couldn’t have been asleep for more than four hours when his phone rang. It was Ian.

“Someone better be dead or dying,” Shane grunted into the speaker, his sweaty face still pressed into his pillow.

“Yoba, you sound like shit,” Ian observed. “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s not a matter of life and death. Mrs. Jenkins called a little while ago — she wants you to come clean her pipes,” he said in a perfectly level voice.

Shane almost swallowed his tongue. He propped himself up on his elbows. “You’re fucking with me. Is that what she really said?”

In the background, Shane could hear laughter. “That is literally what she said!” Sean called in from a distance.

“It’s dirty gutter season,” Ian said matter-of-a-factly.

“Sure it is, man,” Shane surrendered, fighting a smile. “But either way, you can tell her I’m not up for it today.”

“She’s our best customer lately,” Ian warned.

“Then you can go clean her fucking pipes yourself, kid,” Shane teased. “If you think you’re up for the job.”

“Point taken,” Ian said. “I’ll let her down easy.”

“Thanks.” Shane hung up.

It was too early for this shit. He had better things to be doing — like spiraling. It was a great day to lay in bed and do absolutely nothing apart from getting shitfaced and wallowing in self pity, so that’s exactly what he did — that day, and every day that followed, for maybe like, a week or two.

The air outside had grown frigid as winter finally crept over the valley. The crops had died out, the animals were confined to their barns, and Shane was buried deep in the throes of his annual seasonal depression. Not to be mistaken for his regular depression — because while he was still sad, now he was also cold.

It was hard to get out of bed. Like really, really fucking hard. No matter how much Jas knocked on his door, or Marnie called him to dinner, or Olivia requested his service — it was just so fucking hard. And what’s worse — he hadn’t heard a fucking peep from Litha. By the time that the frost had settled over his windows and the freezing drafts began creeping through the worn clapboards to chill the marrows of his bones, he’d convinced himself that Litha Rosenhaal didn’t give a shit whether he was alive or dead. And no sooner did he realize, he didn’t really give a shit, either.

It was Winter 12 when Shane finally managed to drag himself out of his bed for more than his once daily piss, pizza, and whisky run. He’d slept all fucking day. It was just past dusk when he crept out of his room, and the ranch house was quiet, apart from the crackling fire in the living room that served in place of central heat. Shane braced his hands against a chair in the kitchen and twisted his body, feeling each vertebra in his back snap and decompress. He wished he could do the same to his stiff limbs. He considered going back to bed — considered letting the darkness of his room and the warmth of his dirty sheets lull him back into a false sense of security. He’d be awake all night, he knew, staring at the limp ceiling fan above his bed. He dreaded the thought of watching the sunlight begin to permeate his curtains once morning came, bringing with it another goddamn day that he was doomed to live in his broken, fucked up head. He couldn’t bear it — couldn’t even entertain the notion.

He peeked out the window and noticed that snow was falling, on top of an already very thick and pristine looking layer of existing snow. He doubled back to his bedroom, where he put jeans on over his pajama pants, and a leather jacket on over his hoodie. He pulled on an old pair of boots, stuffed a pint of whisky in his hoodie pocket, and ducked out the door.

Shane didn’t really know where he was going — just that he needed to go. His muscles were achy, his brain felt like it was made of soup, and his stomach was utterly fucking empty. He probably should have stayed in bed — but he just couldn’t. So instead, he listened carefully to the way that his feet crunched against the snow, and how the sound of it was the only sound that filled the night. The wildflowers had died, the screaming birds had migrated, and there was absolutely nothing left in their wake — cold, unforgiving nothing.

By the time that Shane realized where his feet were carrying him, he’d cleared almost half of Cindersap Forest, and all but a few drops of his pint. His cheeks were cold, and his breathing was ragged, and he was so fucking hungry, but if he could just make it to Aurora Vineyard, everything would be okay. He wasn’t even sure what he was hoping to find. Maybe Litha, maybe some sort of brute or golem that would inevitably eat him and finally end it all — it didn’t really matter, now.

He kept his eyes down, focusing on his feet as his vision spun and blurred and reality threatened to dissipate around him. The snow had begun falling heavier than before, and visibility had become low, but still, he watched his footing, and trusted his vague sense of direction to get him to the abandoned vineyard that he’d never actually navigated to on his own.

Maybe it was a fool's errand, but he only kept walking.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

He wasn’t quite sure when it had happened, or where, but without a doubt, he’d fallen. It wasn’t a hard fall, because nothing seemed to hurt, so maybe he’d simply… laid down? Regardless, he remained on the ground, staring up at the puffs of falling snow as they drifted toward his face. Even as his stomach rumbled and turned over, sending acid up into his throat, he felt oddly peaceful — and tired.

He knew better than to fall asleep in the middle of the forest during a snowstorm with a stomach that was empty, save for hard liquor. He knew better — yet it had been way too fucking long since he last felt this peaceful. In all the deep, dark fathoms of his whisky steeped brain, Shane couldn’t find the willpower to make himself get up off the ground.

So he stayed. He didn’t really care to do anything but stay.

*********

Hell felt a lot like a hospital. He should have guessed as much. It was warm, deathly quiet save for a steady beeping noise, and it smelled unnaturally sanitary.

“He’s awake,” Shane heard a low male voice mumble.

There was a sigh. It sounded like someone had been holding their breath for hours. “Shane? Can you hear me, son?”

He opened his eyes — just a crack — and Yoba be damned, he was in the fucking clinic. His least favorite place. “I’m… alive?” He managed.

Marnie and Dr. Harvey were hovering in his periphery. Marnie stifled a sob as she grabbed his hand. “Yes, Shane, you’re alive — and lucky to be.”

“Lucky,” he scoffed, fixing his wavering vision on the ceiling tile above him.

Harvey cleared his throat. “Mr. Slater —”

“Shane,” Marnie corrected swiftly. “Just call him Shane.”

Harvey nodded. “Well, Shane, like your aunt said — you are lucky to have kept your life, tonight. As it stands, we’re treating you for hypothermia and alcohol poisoning, but for future reference, I would highly recommend that you seek counseling. I’d like to keep you overnight for observation, but once tomorrow morning comes, I’ll have to discharge you.”

Shane looked up at the IV bags hanging above his head, and then looked down at his body cocooned in blankets. Lastly, he looked at Marnie, who he’d never seen more distraught during all the years he’d spent putting her through the ringer. He couldn’t talk — didn’t really want to, and didn’t really know how.

“Thank you, doctor,” Marnie breathed, patting Havrey’s shoulder.

“I’ll leave the two of you to talk,” Harvey said, taking his leave. “Please, let me know if you need anything.”

As soon as Harvey left the room, Marnie grabbed Shane’s hand so hard that his stiffened fingers felt as though they’d shatter. “Shane Michael, if you ever scare me like this again, I will lock you in your bedroom until you’re old and gray,” she mumbled, staring at him so intensely that he felt sick.

Finally, he found words. “Where’s Jas?”

“I dropped her off at Jodi’s. I called so many times, I woke their whole house up — but I couldn’t let her see you like this, Shane. It would break her little heart.”

“Thank you,” Shane managed.

“What were you thinking, son?” Marnie asked lightly. Shane knew that she wasn’t trying to grill him, but rather, she was concerned for his mental state.

“I didn’t do it on purpose,” Shane said, looking away from her face as relief washed over it. “I don’t want to kill myself, Marnie. I just don’t want to be alive anymore.”

“I don’t know if there’s much of a difference, Shane,” she admitted, adjusting his blankets up around his shoulders.

“Cowardice,” he mumbled, trailing off.

“What?”

“Cowardice is the difference. I don’t want to be alive, but that doesn’t mean I have the guts to kill myself.” Never once had Shane spoken so plainly to his aunt, and as soon as her usual ferocity washed over her features, he regretted it.

“Don’t be stupid, son. Killing yourself isn’t the part that takes guts — keeping on when you don’t want to, though… that’s brave, Shane. I just need you to keep being brave.”

He rested his head against his pillow as sleep came to drag him back down. “I don’t care to be brave, Marnie. I don’t care to be anything at all.”

Marnie rested her head against her nephew's chest, listening for the rise and fall. “Tell me what you need, Shane — tell me how to make you better,” she pleaded softly, stifling a sob.

“Litha,” he breathed as the remainder of his consciousness slipped away. He hadn’t meant to say it, but for once in his life, he’d spoken the truth. Even if it was all only succubi juju, she was the only thing at the end of his dark tunnel. The light.

Chapter Text

It was 2:00AM when Shane was startled awake by an abrupt slamming sound. He’d been in and out of sleep for hours, and Marnie was huddled into a chair in the corner of his room, snoring softly.

And then, like a flash of lightning, there she was. Litha — the apparent cause of the slamming — came barreling through the treatment area doors in a frenzied state. She was dirty and red faced, the sword at her back dripping green slime and the boots on her feet tracking in snow and grime.

Harvey was directly behind her. “Miss Litha! You can’t —”

“I can do whatever I want,” she snapped as her eyes scanned the room frantically. Shane only watched her in his half asleep state, reveling in her concern for him while he waited for her eyes to find his. It only took a split second.

“Shane,” she whispered, her mouth falling slack as she rushed toward him. “I’ve died a million deaths on my way here. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“Why are you here?” He asked tightly as she sat on the edge of the bed and buried her face in his neck. She smelled earthy, like decay, and her soot coated hands dirtied his medically white sheets. Though he’d ordered her by name, he didn’t expect anyone to deliver.

“I asked Dr. Harvey to call her,” Marnie said flatly from her corner, lips pressed into a line as she watched Litha embrace him.

Litha pulled away to look at his face, studying every line and imperfection carefully. “I would have come sooner, but I was in the mines,” she said softly. “Not much reception down there, laddy.”

“You didn’t have to come,” Shane said, averting his eyes from her worried gaze.

She placed her hands on either of his cheeks and forced him to look at her. Her fearful countenance had been replaced by determination. “What happens when you die, Shane? How are any of us meant to go on?” She demanded with an uncompromising glare.

Marnie shuffled awkwardly out of her seat. “I’ll go grab a coffee, I think.” She gave the two of them a pointed look on her way out, though neither of them paid her any mind.

Shane was silent for a moment, just watching her emotions cycle through her eyes as she processed it all. Maybe she did love him. “I don’t know, Li,” he said dryly. “What happens when the clouds run out of rain?”

“What do you think happens?” Litha prompted, her brows bunching in frustration.

“There are no more rainy days. Everyone moves on,” he said, shrugging slowly.

She kissed his chest. “No, Shane. The rivers dry up, the flowers die, and nothing is ever the same again.” Litha kicked off her boots and discarded her slimy sword haphazardly onto the floor before wedging herself in bed beside him, careful not to disturb the IV stuck in his arm. “You can’t leave me, sweet boy — you just can’t.”

He pressed his nose into her dirty hair, unbothered by her musty cave smell. He was just glad to be near her. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Tell me a story,” Shane mumbled, inhaling slowly.

Litha huffed a laugh. “About what?”

“Tell me about your home,” he prompted, stalling the inevitable fact that she’d eventually have to climb out of his hospital bed and leave him to stew in it all. He wrapped an arm around her back, hauling her closer.

“My home,” Litha sighed. “Okay.” She looked up at him. “Galdora is a terrible, spectacular place full of beautiful, cruel people. The air reeks of magic, the sun shines for days at a time, and sometimes, when I think about the fact that I’ll never see it again, I want to die.”

Shane’s breath caught in his throat. “Why will you never see it again?”

“I told you, Shane — I was banished,” she explained, sounding far away.

“That seems inconsequential for someone like you,” he admitted. Litha was above all rules — she had to be. “What did you do, anyway?”

“I brought shame to my family,” she said with a scoff. “And my father — he’s a powerful man. Once he’s made up his mind, there is no appealing to him.”

“But how did you end up in the valley? Out of all the places you could go, you chose Pelican Town?”

She shrugged. “This was my punishment. I was given the choice between a mundane life working a corporate job in Zuzu City, or taking over the farm. I chose Zuzu City, assuming that nothing could be as bad as farming — but I chose wrong. I kept the deed to the farm in my desk drawer for three years before I finally opened it — and truthfully, I dinnae regret my decision. There are aspects of this life that I’m not meant for, sure — but every day, I find a new reason to keep it up, despite the fact that my magic is fading, and I’m fading with it.”

“You seem pretty magic to me,” he supplied.

She laughed quietly. “It’s not like it used to be. The more time I spend away from Galdora, the more it seems to fade — though the worst parts of my nature still remain, like my source of sustenance, and my… urges,” she strained.

“Your urges,” he scoffed under his breath, taking a moment to process it all. It was the most information about herself that she’d bothered to give him. “You’re brave,” he said finally. “I’ve always wanted to be brave.”

“Yoba doesn’t want you to be brave, Shane — he just wants you to be alive.”

Shane groaned. “Marnie said that being alive is brave,” he mused.

“Being alive is just being alive,” she said in a hushed tone, followed by a yawn.

Shane tried not to think about what was keeping Litha alive in his absence. Surely, she hadn’t gone weeks without feeding — he wasn’t stupid enough to let himself believe that she had. He stared up at the ceiling as her breathing evened out and her body became slack. Minutes later, Marnie returned, likely taking their silence as her que. Shane tightened his arm across Litha’s back.

Marnie reclaimed her chair, watching him carefully as she sipped her coffee. “History will repeat itself for as long as you let it, son,” she whispered.

He looked down at Litha, whose dirty, tear streaked face was smashed awkwardly against the side of his chest. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he insisted, brushing a piece of hair from her forehead. He looked back up at Marnie. “You can go home, if you want.”

His aunt shook her head slowly. “What am I going to do with you, Shane?” She sighed as she rose from her chair again. “I want you to call me before you leave here tomorrow morning. I’ll be expecting you.”

He only nodded as Marnie shuffled out of the room, listening to her thank Harvey on her way out.

**********

The next morning came way too fucking quickly, and Litha, on her farmer’s schedule, awoke long before Shane was discharged.

“How are you feeling, sweet boy? Better?” She asked softly, caressing his stubbly cheek as their bodies remained entwined.

He sighed. “As best as I can,” he supplied.

She nodded as she wiggled out from under his arm. “I hate to go, love, but I’ve got a farm to tend to.”

He held her in place, pressing a kiss into her hair. “What happens now?” He struggled, willing her to stay.

She propped herself up on her elbow and kissed him deeply, her fingers swirling in the hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled away, but kept her nose pressed against his. “Whatever is meant to happen will happen, Shane. ‘You and I’ isn’t something that we can force — I think the universe has proved as much by this point.”

He nodded, but he didn’t understand.

Wordlessly, Litha climbed out of the creaky bed and tugged on her boots before strapping her sword back in place. Who the fuck brings a sword to a hospital? She threw him one last longing look over her shoulder, and then she was gone.

Every time she left, it was like she’d never existed in the first place, but rather than allowing himself to think about it, he emptied his brain and fixed his eyes on the cloudy window. He stared at it until the sun finished rising, and Harvey stepped silently into his room.

“How are you feeling this morning?” Harvey asked absentmindedly, scanning his clipboard idly.

Shane shrugged as he propped himself up in bed. His limbs were stiff, his stomach was empty, and his head was foggy. “Like I’ve been hit by a train.”

Harvey nodded. “To be expected, I’m afraid. I’m recommending hydration, rest, and bland foods — since we had to give you charcoal to neutralize the toxins in your stomach.”

Shane decided to try his luck. “And for the pain?”

Harvey smiled tightly. “Over the counter muscle relief should do the trick.” He stepped up to Shane’s bedside and unhooked his IV, placing a bandage over the small wound. “Maru laundered your clothes. Stop by the desk on your way out, I’ve prepared some pamphlets for you to take home.” Harvey nodded to Shane’s folded clothes on the chair in the corner, and dismissed himself meekly.

Shane dressed quickly, gathered his new reading material from the desk, purchased a bottle of muscle relief, and ducked out the door quickly. He texted Marnie as soon as he stepped foot outside, but he didn’t make it two paces before he heard his name.

“Shane.” It wasn’t a question, but rather a command.

He turned slowly to find Olivia exiting the general store, dressed snugly in an expensive looking red peacoat. She stared at him blankly for a moment, until her eyes traveled down to his wrist, where the white hospital band remained intact.

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Olivia looked enraged. Shane wasn’t sure why. “You were hospitalized?” She demanded, jerking her hand away when she instinctively reached for him.

“I’m fine,” he bit out. He wasn’t in the mood for Olivia’s antics today.

She inched closer, just barely. “Come by later,” she whispered. “After sundown.”

“Fine,” he said tightly.

Satisfied, she nodded, whirling away from him as if the conversation hadn’t happened. Shane shook his head and walked away.

Just as he was nearing the ranch, he realized that his teeth were chattering, despite the layers he was dressed in, and the morning sun that shone brightly. The cold was really taking its toll on him after the night he’d had, so when he stepped inside to find a roaring fire going in the living room, he immediately took to the couch directly in front of the hearth after discarding the pamphlets onto the kitchen table. He felt like shit, and the shivering wouldn’t stop.

Suddenly, Jas poked her head out of her door. “Shae!” She cried, her shrill voice piercing his skull.

“Shhh,” he pleaded, holding out his arms as she threw herself into him. “Don’t yell, bug — I’m feeling sick today.”

“Sorry,” she whispered, cuddling up against him, as if she knew he needed the warmth.

“Where’s your aunt Marnie?” He asked.

“In the barn,” Jas replied.

“Can you go tell her I’m home, kiddo?”

Jas nodded and climbed out of his lap. Before she left the room, she grabbed a wooly blanket from the rack and unfolded it clumsily, splaying her arms as wide as they could go when she attempted to drape it over him.

Moments later, Jas returned with Marnie.

“How are you feeling, son?” Marnie asked tentatively.

Shane was really starting to hate that question. “Hungry,” he said gruffly.

Jas perked up, tugging on Marnie’s skirt. “He needs some soup, aunt Marnie,” she insisted.

Marnie smiled down at her. “That’s a wonderful idea, Jas. Would you like to help me make him some?”

“Yes!” She shrieked before slapping her hands over her mouth, followed immediately by a whispered “Sorry.”

Shane only smiled at her weakly as Marnie corralled her into the kitchen. He listened for several minutes as they clattered around, resting his head against the back of the couch as his body acclimated to the warm fire. Once the shivering subsided, he stripped off his jeans and jacket in favor of the hoodie and pajama pants underneath them. He draped his discarded clothes over the back of a chair and bundled himself up in a ball beneath the wooly blanket.

He dozed off for a moment, but eventually, he heard the front door creak open, and the muffled sound of Marnie wishing Jas a good day. Shane made a mental note to thank Penny for all that she did once he finally got around to it. She was a real saint for picking up a child whose parent couldn’t be bothered to drop her off for school. Briefly, Shane wondered if he reminded Penny of her mother, and if her caring for Jas went deeper than her merely being good natured. The thought made his stomach churn — Pam was a real fucking waste of breath, but how was Shane any better?

Finally, Marnie returned with a tray, toting chicken soup, fresh bread, fruit salad, and a steaming mug of green tea. “Sit up, son. I can’t have you making a mess.”

Shane did as instructed, and Marnie sat the tray in his lap. She plopped down in a chair next to the couch and fished his pamphlets from her apron pocket. “Tomorrow, I want you to make some phone calls.”

He nodded as he scalded his tongue on his soup. “I will.”

“I mean it, Shane. I have no desire to explain to that baby that the only parent she’s ever really known has passed away. We can’t even explain what happened to her real parents, son,” Marnie fussed, wringing her sleeves anxiously.

For a moment, Shane was silent. She was right. After all these years, Shane had been telling Jas that Dray and Annemarie were dead. It was easier that way. When they left, all Shane could think about was how he hadn’t been good enough for them — he knew what kind of toll that mentality would take on a child. “I know, Marnie. I know.”

She nodded. “Good. Now, eat up. When you’re done, I want you to go get some sleep.” Marnie pushed out of her seat and left the room.

Shane waited until he heard the barn door close to pull out his phone.

Ian answered on the second ring. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I need you to call Olivia and tell her I’m not available to do any work for her today,” Shane insisted, feeling his cheeks heat up.

“I didn’t know you were expected, anyway,” Ian said suspiciously.

“Well, yeah — she asked me when I was in town,” he scrambled awkwardly. “Can you just tell her, man?”

Ian sighed. “Yeah, Shane, I’ll tell her.”

“Thanks. Oh, and while I’ve got you here, do you need any extra hands at SunnyVale?”

“I thought you’d sworn off SunnyVale for good.”

“I changed my mind,” Shane insisted. “Do you need help, or not?”

“Well, yeah, Litha always has something going on. If you’re willing, we could definitely use the manpower,” Ian explained tentatively. “Come by the farm on Monday morning. Litha has Robin putting together some giant stone building — Sean and I have been pitching in.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you on Monday.” Shane hung up.

Litha might have been waiting for fate to bring them back together, but Shane had never been a patient man.

************

Monday morning came so fucking slowly. Though he was grateful to have a few days to recover from his little… incident, he hated that he had to wait so long to set fate in motion. Come Sunday, his body felt less weak, and the chill had finally left his bones — though, honestly, he hadn’t really slowed down on the liquid self-sabotage. He’d set up an appointment with a counselor, as Marnie requested — but that appointment wasn’t until the beginning of spring. He had a week and some change to act fucking stupid before he hung that hat up for good — he intended to make the most of it.

On Sunday night, he set his alarm and went to bed early, eager for the next day to come, but it wasn’t the alarm that woke him — it was Marnie.

“Shane!” She called, knocking in an obnoxiously cheery fashion. “Door for you!”

For a moment, he was terrified that he’d overslept, but then it occurred to him that Marnie, who’d been angry with him since he mentioned his upcoming workday, would gladly let him sleep through his alarm if it meant missing this particular job. He glanced at his alarm clock — 6:00AM. Who the fuck…

He hauled himself out of bed and tugged on some flannel pants. He didn’t bother with a shirt as he shut his bedroom door behind him and turned to find Olivia standing in his kitchen. His brain came to a screeching halt as he looked around for Marnie or Jas.

Olivia took off her black leather gloves and helped herself to a seat at the table, her eyes scanning him up and down as she sat.

“What are you doing here?” Shane hissed under his breath.

“You’re avoiding me,” Olivia said musically. “Why?”

Shane was growing really fucking tired of this narrative. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. I found you slipping out of the clinic, and you’ve wanted nothing to do with me since then. Tell me, Shane, should I be worried? Did you contract a disease from the Rosenhaal girl? What is it?” She asked deftly, speaking at full volume as she examined her blood red nails like the accusation was nothing at all.

Shane yanked out a chair and dropped into it, leaning close enough to her that she backed away. “First off, lower your fucking voice,” he demanded. “Secondly, if you really need to know, I was hospitalized the night before. Hypothermia and alcohol poisoning. And lastly, Litha doesn’t concern you, and don’t you fucking dare act like she does.”

Olivia’s hands dropped to her lap and her hooded eyes widened. People didn’t speak to Olivia like he just had — Shane knew it. “I — I didn’t realize…”

“No, you didn’t realize,” he muttered, dropping his face into his hand. “You shouldn’t be here, Olivia.”

She straightened in her seat. “Why haven’t you sought help, Shane? If it’s a matter of funding, obviously I will gladly contribute. There are a number of wonderful inpatient —”

“No,” he cut in swiftly. “I’m not going to rehab. There are people here that depend on me — I can’t just leave.”

She reached across the table and took his hands. He glanced around the room nervously. Marnie could walk in at any minute and he’d be caught. “There are absolutely people here that depend on you, Shane — which is all the more reason for you to go.”

“I don’t need this from you. I get if from Marnie enough,” Shane insisted.

Olivia shook her head, releasing his hands and standing. “Give it some thought, Shane. If you choose to admit yourself, I will pay for it — I mean it.” She kissed his cheek softly, and whispered into his ear: “Come by later today, if you find the time. I do miss you, dear.”

He wasn’t sure why, in particular, he was so fucking angry with Olivia — but even as she shut the door behind herself, his vision danced in red, and he knew right then that there was no way in hell he’d be able to fall back asleep. So, reluctantly, he got dressed.

He woke Jas up, dressed her for school, made her a bowl of cereal, and saw her off when Penny picked her up. He even managed to smile at Penny when he opened the door — it wasn’t well received.

Once he sent Jas on her way, he made breakfast for himself and Marnie — though he burned most of it. Regardless, Marnie scarfed it down without complaint, but she did stare at him while they ate.

“Mrs. Jenkins said you’ve been doing some great work for her lately, Shane. I’m proud of you,” Marnie remarked as she nibbled on a piece of blackened toast.

Shane nearly choked on his eggs. “Yeah — thanks.”

“She said she came by to deliver a ‘thank you’ gift. What did she bring you?” Marnie nosed.

Shane panicked. “Uh — salt,” he stammered, clearing his throat.

Marnie hesitated. “Salt? What kind of gift is that?”

“A salty one,” he said, shrugging.

Marnie shook her head and finished her plate. When she was done, she piled the leftover eggs, bacon, and toast onto a paper plate and covered it with tin foil. She put the plate in the fridge and headed back out to the barn.

Suddenly, Shane had an idea — and an excuse to head up to SunnyVale earlier than expected. He cleared his plate, took the leftovers from the fridge, and started his walk up the hill after bundling up in his coat and blue scarf.

He trudged through the snow slowly in a bleak attempt to look less eager, despite the full plate of food in his hands that threatened to freeze before he reached the farm. The snow had finally stopped falling, and the sun was shining bright and clear, reflecting in prisms off of each snowflake. Shane was nearly blinded by the brilliant white.

Finally, he came up over the hill, and he was unsurprised to find that SunnyVale looked like a dream under the thick blanket of white. The lampposts glowed like fairy orbs under the translucent ice, the stone ponds had frozen over, and everything was eerily silent as the cabin’s jaunty chimney puffed thick clouds of smoke into the frigid air. Just as Litha’s front door came into view, Shane heard it creak open across the echoey terrain before he saw who stepped out of it.

Tall. Tan skin. Pink hair, darker and shorter than Litha’s. Lance.

Shane felt the breath leave his lungs as if something had slammed full force into the center of his chest. He was grateful for the barn that partially obscured his field of vision as he huddled into its shadow, watching as Lance took Litha into his arms. He dipped her gracefully and leaned in for an obnoxiously theatrical kiss that she returned along with that fake fucking giggle of hers. Shane felt like he’d be sick, but rather than mind his instincts and retreat back to the ranch, he remained, pressing his back against the barn and working to steady his heart rate.

Once he got a grip on himself, he craned his neck around the corner to find that Lance had vanished into thin air, leaving Litha standing on the porch in her shorts and furry slipper combo, looking annoyingly dreamy. After a few moments, she stepped back inside. As much as Shane just wanted to go back to bed, he schooled his expression into neutrality and strode right up to the porch.

He knocked on the door hard — like he meant it. As expected, Litha opened it within seconds. She couldn’t have gone far after seeing Lance off.

“Did you forget some—” Litha started before realizing who stood at her doorstep, cutting herself off once she noticed it was Shane. “Aye, hello, Shane,” she veered, her full lips curving into a sly smile.

He walked right past her into the cabin, struggling to keep his cool as his eyes scanned the room. “I brought you breakfast,” he informed her, dropping the plate on the table for emphasis.

“I see that,” Litha said tentatively, shutting the door behind him. “How have you been, Shane?”

He ignored her question. It didn’t really matter, anyway. “Are you still mad at me?” He blurted.

Litha scoffed as she padded over to where he stood in the kitchen. She fixed her eyes on his, studying him carefully. “No,” she said finally. “I’m not mad at you, Shane. But if you wanted to fuck Olivia Jenkins, you could have told me. I would have been up for it.” She shrugged.

Immediately, he regretted bringing it up. The subject still boiled his blood. “And what about Lance?”

Litha cocked her head to the side — a viper sizing up its prey. “What about him? Are you implying that you would have been up for it?” She teased.

Shane crossed his arms. “No! Well — maybe. I don’t know — but that isn’t the point.”

“Pray tell, sweet boy, what is the point, then?”

“Why am I not good enough for you?” There it was — the real bane of his existence. Insufficiency. It slipped out unintentionally, but he couldn’t take it back.

Litha shook her head, slowly raising her hand toward his face, cradling his cheek. “You and I were meant to fuck each other one way or another, Shane — but with Lance, it’s different. He’s easy — you’re… harder.”

Shane felt like his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. He never would have guessed that he’d be considered difficult in comparison to someone like Lance, the badass highland adventurer. “How the fuck am I any harder than him, Li?”

“The pressure to do right by you is overwhelming, Shane. I fear that each thing I say to you will be the last thing I say to you. It’s nerve-wracking — especially because I know I’m not good for you,” Litha admitted softly, her red rimmed teal eyes cast down. “Seeing you in that hospital bed… it was polarizing. I never want to see it again.”

“What are you saying?” He ground out, catching her raised hand in his own and willing the tears that threatened his eyes not to flow.

“I’m saying that I love you, sweet boy — but for you and I, there’s nothing left,” she whispered, keeping her eyes on the ground.

Shane tightened his fists at his sides. Sadness, he expected — but anger? It overcame him like a virus. He’d barely even had a drink before he left the ranch — just enough to take the edge off. “You’re just gonna throw me away, then? For Lance? For Abigail?” He drew in a deep breath, steadying his wavering voice. “No. I don’t fucking accept that. Tell me, Litha — tell me what I have to do to be good enough for you.”

When she finally looked up at him, tears were flowing down her smooth cheeks, her swirling irises offset by the bloodshot whites of her eyes. It briefly occurred to him that he’d never found her more beautiful than he did right then, despite the fact that she’d torn out his heart and taken a bite of it. Unexpectedly, she kissed him, softly yet insistently on the lips.

“Take care of yourself, Shane,” she breathed.

Shane gathered what was left of his dignity and walked out the door.

**********

He’d been at the saloon since it opened. At exactly noon, he’d walked right through the door and slumped into his usual seat at the bar. Emily took one look at him and knew the drill — keep them coming. So she did — for about seven hours until the sun finally set. At some point, the amount that Emily had served him must have been considered irresponsible.

When Shane finally stumbled out of the saloon, it occurred to him right then that he hadn’t been so drunk in a very, very long time — not even the night he’d been hospitalized. Despite the aftermath of that night, Shane had convinced himself that he’d simply succumbed to the cold and his own stupidity — not the pint of whisky sloshing around in his empty stomach.

It took him far longer than necessary to reach Olivia’s front door, but once he finally did, he sort of just… slumped against it, opposed to knocking. Within seconds, he heard the locks click open, and when Olivia opened the door that he was leaning against, he stumbled inside and nearly hit the floor. Before he could lose his balance, he caught himself on a wall.

“Shane!” Olivia gasped, taken aback as she stepped away from him. “What’s the matter with you?”

He pressed his back against the wall in an attempt to steady himself. “You wanted me here,” he growled. “So here I am.”

Olivia sighed. Her frustration was palpable. “Not like —”

“Not like this, Olivia?” Shane ground out, fixing his glare on her twisted features. “You can’t have one part of me and not the others. That isn’t how this works,” he slurred.

“This isn’t who you are — it doesn’t define you,” Olivia whispered through her fingers.

“This is exactly who I fucking am, and it’s the only thing that defines me,” Shane spat under his breath. “Take it or fucking leave it, Olivia.”

In an instant, she was by his side, supporting his weight to the best of her abilities with an arm around his shoulders. “I’ll take it. You. All of you,” she said into his ear. “Let’s get you into bed, dear.”

As Olivia steered Shane toward the treacherous stairs, he was disgusted by himself when he realized that her kind declaration didn’t mean a goddamn thing to him.

After much effort on both of their behalves, they finally made it to Olivia’s bedroom, and without hesitation, Shane bent her over the bed to the best of his drunken abilities and flipped the hem of her silky red nightgown up onto her back.

He fumbled with his belt for several seconds before loosing an exasperated sigh. Olivia looked over her shoulder at him, but for once, she didn’t have anything to say. Once he finally managed the belt, he was mortified to discover that his dick was completely fucking soft. Olivia saw it, too — yet still, she said nothing.

In a panicked state, Shane spit into his hand and began working himself, his chin tilted to the ceiling as he focused.

Right then, he estimated that he’d spent just as many years drunk as he had sexually active, yet he’d never once been plagued with whisky dick. Maybe he was beating his own records, or maybe he was just getting old — but either way, he was fucking annoyed.

After several minutes of awkward, fruitless jerking, Olivia finally stepped in. “If you want, I could —”

“No,” he snapped, releasing his stranglehold on his comically soft penis. “I should leave.”

Olivia maneuvered into an upright position. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Shane. It would be best for you to stay here.”

“No,” he repeated, refastening the belt he’d worked so hard on.

“But you were just hospitalized for the same —”

Shane took her chin in his hand — a bit harder than he’d meant to. He tilted her head back to force eye contact. Her mouth had gone silent, and her eyes had gone wide.

“I’m going home,” he growled.

Olivia managed a nod, and Shane released his grasp on her chin.

He tried to ignore the way that reality spun all around him as he staggered down the stairs, but he couldn’t ignore the hot tears that trickled down his cheeks. He’d never been so embarrassed in his entire fucking life — especially not over something so inconsequential.

As Shane left the Jenkins estate and made his way through the town square, he couldn’t help but notice how quiet of a night it was. Granted, it was well past midnight and colder than a witches tit outside, but still, there always seemed to be music in the valley. Something about the silence instilled an unease in him, and that unease prompted haste in his step.

Shane was just past the graveyard when he heard it — a sort of… chittering noise from behind a group of bushes.

Shane froze in place. The grouping of bushes in question was just past the fence line, and in the dark, he could scarcely make out the slight shifting of the leaves. Against his better judgment, he stepped closer to it, curiosity getting the better of him and his blurred inhibitions.

He reached out toward it — though he wasn’t sure what he hoped to find. All he could imagine was the possibility of it being an animal. What if the animal was injured? Before he could even part the branches, there was a guttural moan followed by a sludge covered subhuman hand stretching toward him.

Shane’s heart stopped for a moment as he stumbled backward, his foot losing traction on a sheet of ice. His head hit the ground — not hard enough to render him unconscious, but hard enough to make the world spin. He fixed his shaky vision on the bush, just in time to see an ambiguous figure emerge from it and slowly round the fence in his direction. It wasn’t human — or maybe it was? The only thing he could envision was the intricately camouflaged tactical gear that the Republic troops wore to safely navigate the dense jungles of the Gotoro Empire. He’d seen them in a magazine, once or twice — they looked like suites made of yard debris and sewer slime.

Even as he tried to rationalize the creature advancing toward him, Shane knew damn well that he wasn’t being pranked by someone in tactical camouflage. Surely, if he was, the alarm bells in his amygdala wouldn’t be blaring. Primal instinct would know better, right? He tried to push himself off the ground, but his dizzied, drunken brain wasn’t seeming to send the proper signals to his limbs. As it inched closer and closer to him at snail speed, Shane could only scoot back.

Who would find his body? Would there even be a body left to find? Shane squeezed his eyes closed. Yoba, if you’re listening, I’m sorry that I never got my shit together —

Suddenly, there was a cracking sound nearby, and Shane thought that it might be one of his legs somehow — but then, he opened his eyes, and he saw it — a flash of brilliant purple metal, slicing diagonally through the torso of the bush creature. The slimy upper half of its body fell to the side, and behind it was Litha, fists clasped firmly around the hilt of her blade and a wild look in her aqua eyes.

“Fucking golem,” she muttered, shaking the ooze off her sword as she rushed toward him. “Are you alright, laddy?”

She was the most incredible thing he’d ever witnessed. Unexpectedly, Shane began sobbing. “What the fuck was that?” He half shouted as she helped him sit up.

“A cave dweller escaped from the guild,” she murmured, smoothing the hair away from his face. “I’ve been tracking it all night, the slippery bastard.”

“It could have killed me,” Shane whispered senselessly, fully aware of the fact that Litha grasped the situation.

For a moment, she was silent, peering down at him thoughtfully. Finally, she kissed his brow, and whispered “I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if it had.”

“Maybe it would have saved you some trouble,” Shane grunted as Litha helped him off the ground.

Suddenly, her hand found his chin, and she jerked his face toward hers. Her eyes were alight with resolve. “You’re no trouble, Shane. You never could be — even if you’re the most accident prone man I’ve ever met.”

Shane blew out a breath and maneuvered out of her grasp. Before he could second guess himself, he kissed her, hard and deep as his arm snaked around her waist. He moved his mouth from hers, but kept his forehead pressed against her brow. “Has fate spoken loudly enough for you to hear it, Li?”

She looked up at him, and her resolve had turned to awe. She kissed him again. “I think so, Shane.”

He nodded tightly, fighting off the ball of emotion brewing at the base of his throat. “Then let’s go home.”

Home.

Chapter Text

“I want to show you something, Shane,” Litha said during their walk back to her cabin. Their arms were interlocked, and Shane was still stumbling slightly, despite his sobering run in with an actual fucking golem. His cheeks were freezing and wind burnt, snot had long crusted around his nose, and his head still ached and spun.

“What is it?” He asked, though the question was essentially moot. She could show him a bucket of week old fish heads and he’d think it was cool as long as she did, too.

As they came up on the cabin, Litha led them past it, stopping in front of that creepy mouse statue again. She took his hand, and Shane knew the drill — he closed his eyes until she gave the signal. He waited for the two telltale gusts of wind on his face, and then, she spoke.

“We’re here,” Litha whispered.

Shane opened his eyes and looked around. The two of them stood in a densely wooded area, overtaken wholly by massive snow dusted pines, save for the shimmering, foggy spring carved out near the center. A waterfall wept gently against the water's surface, sounding a soft trickling melody between the echoing trees.

It took a moment for Shane’s eyes to adjust to the setting, lit only by the glow of the crescent moon and several strange orbs of light that danced above the still waters.

Like Litha, it was magic.

“Where are we?” Shane asked slowly, stepping away from the warp rune toward the water.

“This spring has special healing properties,” Litha explained. “I thought we could take a dip.”

Shane looked at Litha as if she’d grown an extra eye, and then up toward the sky, where clumps of snow were falling sparsely. “It’s freezing out here, Li,” he insisted rather obviously.

Litha chuckled, stepping close to him and kissing his cheek. “It’s a geothermal spring, love. There’s an underground cave beneath the water, and it regulates the temperature year ‘round.”

Shane was skeptical, but all the same, as Litha’s clothes began falling into the snow, Shane couldn’t help but to oblige her. As he descended the stone steps into the water, Shane was surprised to find that, indeed, it felt like bath water. Litha waded in behind him and wrapped her weightless body around his back, squeezing his neck gently with her arms while her head rested on his shoulder.

“Lately, I’ve been coming here after long nights in the caves,” she said wistfully. “When I emerge from this spring, my wounds are closed up, and my muscles are soothed. It makes me feel safe, in a way — like I could be on the brink of certain death, and these waters would revive me.”

Shane looked intrinsically, taking a mental inventory of his tired, beaten to shit body. After mere seconds in the water, he could feel the tension leaving his muscles, and the dull, tingly feeling leaving the back of his head. He felt closer to sober, too, which he wasn’t sure if he hated or appreciated.

For nearly an hour, they waded around the spring in total silence, and once Litha declared it was time to leave, Shane felt like a new man.

************

Though he’d been standing in the very same cabin earlier that day with the very same woman, Shane felt an overwhelming sense of resoluteness from it all, now. To whatever end, he was willing to bend for her. He flopped down onto the ugly green couch next to the wicked orange barn cat, who purred upon his arrival.

“Satsuma missed me,” he said as he ruffled the cat's ears.

Litha only watched him from the kitchen, arms crossed and booted foot tapping against the hardwood as the glow of a fat beeswax candle illuminated her profile. “Aye. Satsuma is a menace — kindred spirits and all.”

Shane chuckled, surprised to find himself in such a good mood after the night he’d had. Maybe it was thanks to the spring, or maybe it was the whisky still filling out his veins. He patted the cat’s butt and she jumped off the couch. “Why don’t you come sit with me?” He beckoned Litha, who looked more exhausted than anything.

Slowly, she crept over to the couch, kicking her dirty boots off on the way. She sat stiffly beside him, crossing her legs underneath herself. “We need to have a conversation, Shane — a long one.”

“Let’s talk, then,” he mumbled, eager to get it over with so they could finally start their fucking lives together, or whatever it was that two people do when they finally decide they find eachother tolerable.

She sucked in a deep breath and braced her hands on her knees. “Singularity is not something I’m good at,” Litha said in a slow, concise voice — as much without an accent as he’d ever heard it.

“Why not?” He asked, willing the question not to sound too sharp.

“Because it’s unsafe, Shane,” she insisted, turning to face him. “Do you remember the weeks that we spent together over the Summer? At that point, it was only you warming my bed, and as much as I loved every waking moment of it, I knew that I was being selfish — irresponsible. I was taking a toll on you.”

Shane rubbed the heat at the back of his neck as he felt Litha’s ten ton stare weigh on him. “I’d never felt better in my life during those weeks.”

Litha chuckled, but it was a melancholic sort of sound. “That’s because you’re an addict, Shane. My curse is designed to deplete you, while simultaneously lulling you into a state of euphoria. With multiple partners fulfilling my appetites, I’m able to ensure that no one person is carrying too much of my burden — but during those weeks, you, alone, were sating me. It wasn’t healthy, love.”

Shane could feel his heartbeat behind his eyes. This felt… familiar — but not. Though it was easy enough to chalk it all up to being fabricated, he couldn’t quite ignore the fact that lately, he’d become numb to pretty much anything that didn’t involve Litha. It couldn’t be a coincidence. He swallowed hard, regretting his next words before they left his mouth. “We’ll make it work.” Come hell or high water.

“You know, when you first mentioned that you had been in a non-monogamous relationship before, it shocked me. You strike me as a very singular kind of man,” Litha said.

Shane shrugged. “There’s a lot that you don’t know about me.”

“I resent that,” she mumbled. “I want to know everything about you.”

“There isn’t much to know,” he said lowly, resting his head against the back couch cushion. “But you, on the other hand — you’re an unread book, Litha.”

She shrugged. “I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Shane braced himself before he asked his first question. “How many others, and who are they?”

Litha scooted closer to him, resting her head against his shoulder. She still smelled like a cave, despite their dip in the spring — it was a scent that had become oddly endearing. “There are two others, currently — Lance and Abigail. Lance has been spending his nights here when he’s stationed in the valley, but Abby only comes around when she can get away from her parents.”

Shane laughed awkwardly — he wasn’t sure why it slipped out. “Damn — I’m really the odd man out, huh?”

Litha craned her neck to look at him. “What do you mean?”

He hesitated for a moment. “Sometimes, when I stay at the saloon until last call, I’ll see Abby swinging a rusty sword around in the graveyard on my way back to the ranch. She’s always been pretty out-there. And Lance is, well — Lance.”

Litha nodded, running her finger along his stubbly jaw as she watched his face carefully. “Abby is Abby, Lance is Lance, and you’re you.”

Could it really be so simple for her? He didn’t know how to ask as much, so instead, he diverted. “You’re not going to make me learn to sword fight, are you?”

Litha laughed. It was her authentic, hideous laugh. Shane’s heart melted. “I won’t, but Lance might. He’s rather taken with the concept of protecting me, lately.”

Shane scoffed. He didn’t like the idea of anyone protecting Litha except for him — which was stupid, because he was pretty fucking useless, and she’d saved his life less than an hour ago. “That’s pointless. You don’t need protecting.”

She gave him a small smile. “We all need to be protected in one way or another, Shane — though Lance does have a tendency to forget that I know my way around a blade. Ye can’t hold it against him, though — he’s a good lad, and I think the two of you will get along well.”

As much as Shane wanted to tell her that it would be impossible for him to get along with anyone he was sharing her affection with, he thought back to Dray and Annemarie, and the way that he loved them both unconditionally. Nothing would ever replace them, but the comparison assured him that harmony was at least mildly feasible.

“I’ve never really met him,” Shane muttered.

Litha only smiled. “You will tomorrow. He’s stationed on Ginger Island today,” she supplied. “So you and I have the cabin to ourselves tonight.”

Shane felt the undeniable tingle throughout his spine as her voice dropped to a low, husky octave. Every nerve ending in his body stood to attention at the sound of it, and just as she propped herself up to kiss him, his hand was already cradling the side of her face, tangling in her smooth hair and tugging her closer.

“I missed you so fucking much, Li,” he said between kisses as she swung one leg around to straddle him. He felt himself growing hard immediately, and Litha felt it too. “I feel like I’m burning alive when I’m with you — but missing you is so fucking cold.” Shane’s hands traveled up underneath her shirt, each one settling into the curves of her waist where his fingers pressed hard into her soft flesh.

Relentlessly, she ground down on him, and through her leggings, he could feel her warmth, more nurturing than the sun itself. “It’s you and I, sweet boy — for as long as you’ll let it be,” she whispered, her tongue tracing the side of his ear. “Would you care to have a shower with me?”

Shane could barely manage a nod as the anticipation actively drowned out his thoughts, but no sooner than he agreed, Litha had grabbed his arm and was tugging him up off the couch. Her eyes snagged on his tented pants, and he liked to think that her mouth had dried up at the sight. As she dragged him off toward the bathroom, he had high hopes that his whisky dick had subsided — or maybe that it hadn’t been whisky dick at all.

The cabin’s bathroom was scarcely larger than a closet, barely housing the two of them as Litha tugged her sweater over her head and Shane impatiently unfastened his pants. He lost track of himself as he watched Litha remove her bra, his gaze catching on her small nipples as they hardened against the cold air. He couldn’t help himself when he stopped midway through wrestling with the button on his jeans to take her in his arms and wrap his lips around one of those nipples. He knocked all sorts of toiletries onto the floor in the process, but neither of them cared.

For weeks, all he’d thought about was the taste of her skin on his tongue — he couldn’t afford to waste another second. So for a moment, he only kissed and suckled at her chest, feeling her pebbled skin beneath his grasp while her fingers found their way into his hair. The heightening crescendo of her panting assured Shane that, had he continued, he could have likely made her come — but he had other things in mind.

The shower was a curtain, a faucet, and a drain in the cracked tile floor, but Shane couldn’t have given a shit less as he cranked the water as hot as it would go and shoved Litha’s bare back against the wall, fixing himself in between her soft thighs.

“Stay with me, Shane. I need you with me,” she breathed through the steaming water that poured between them, Shane’s hands exploring her body while his lips explored her neck.

“There’s nothing left to keep me away,” he mumbled, pulling away momentarily to look at her face. Her bright eyes were rimmed in red, her full lips were parted, and a few wet strands of pink clung to her face. She was an angel. Shane’s brain short circuited as his mouth found hers, and her tongue slipped past his lips.

She tasted like wine, and Litha — and it was all Shane needed to grip the backs of her thighs and haul her legs up around his waist. Distinctly, it reminded him of their first time together in the saloon’s storage room, but this time, as he pushed into her slowly and was rewarded by her sweet, breathy gasp of pleasure, it was different. For the first time since they met, Shane fucked her like he loved her — softly and gently, savoring the feeling of her smooth, wet skin slipping against his own. It was pure, unfiltered bliss as she wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest, yielding for him entirely.

He set his rhythm slowly and torturously, withdrawing himself unhurriedly only to slam back in, earning sharp cries from Litha and the incredible sound of their slick skin colliding.

“I want to listen to those sounds of yours for the rest of my fucking life,” Shane growled into the foggy air once her glorious moans began to quicken and her innermost walls squeezed his cock firmly. His arms ached and he was short of breath, but he gave her everything he had left as she held on for dear life.

For the first time in far too fucking long, Shane spilled himself into her and shuddered upon his release, feeling Litha’s fingernails carve depressions into his back as she cried out his name sharply. Shane had never really liked his name before — gift from Yoba, what a fucking joke — but hearing it sound on Litha’s lips in the form of a ragged, breathy moan made it truly sound like a prayer.

She pressed a soft kiss against his lips as he withdrew from her and lowered her back onto her feet. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her face against his chest. “You’re so special to me,” she said quietly against his wet skin, as if in contemplation.

Shane rested his chin atop her head, savoring her nearness and the hot water that washed away their proverbial sins. “You’re the most special thing,” he murmured.

For the remainder of their shower, they took turns washing one another with the same loofa sponge and a sweet smelling soap that Litha informed him she’d made from honey and goat's milk. Never in his life had Shane considered himself easily impressed, but in the brief amount of time he’d spent knowing Litha, that tide had certainly turned. He’d never known of a thing more impressive than her.

He lathered up her hair, and she lathered his, and once they were all free of suds, they dried each other off and took to the bed without clothing, where Shane buried his face in her pussy and dined until he reached heaven’s gates. He fell asleep face down at the apex of her thighs, his cheek pressed against the pale, soft hair between her legs and his hand cupping one of her tits.

He’d never slept so peacefully in all his life.

**********

“Well, good morning,” crooned a smooth, deep male voice that Shane had never before heard.

For a moment, he was confused as that voice beckoned him from his sleep, but that confusion quickly turned to unease, directly followed by anger when he realized that his bare ass was fully visible and his head was still between Litha’s thighs. His eyes snapped open, and he cast his gaze upward to find a lazy smile upon Litha’s sleep mussed face.

“Good morning to you,” she purred, her eyes fixed on the owner of that voice somewhere outside of Shane’s periphery.

Shane craned his neck to look over his shoulder and immediately yanked a blanket up over himself. “What the fuck?” He growled.

None other than Lance leaned against the shoddy door jamb of the bedroom, watching Shane and Litha with an amused smirk. “I’m elated to see you here, Shane — truly,” Lance announced, bowing his head gracefully. “Our sweet Litha has been pining for you quite ceaselessly.”

“Ceaselessly, indeed,” Litha teased, dragging a hand through Shane’s tangled hair lovingly. “All is well at the caldera, I presume?” She asked Lance, stretching her arms above her head like a cat.

Lance strode over to the bedside, where Shane regarded him defensively. He sat down beside Litha, placing a hand on her bare belly. “Well enough to bring me home to you, my beloved,” he soothed, dropping a kiss onto her forehead as Shane watched in horror at Lance’s boldness. Lance looked over at Shane, who was still holding a blanket up around himself. “Litha and I were planning to spend the day on Ginger Island today — just to get a break from this dreadfully cold weather. We’ve just recently finished restoring a little hut on the western portion of the island. Would you like to join us, Shane?”

Shane hesitated, studying Lance carefully. Though Shane definitely wouldn’t consider himself to be straight, he’d never really seen a man as stupidly pretty as Lance, with his tan skin, high cheekbones, dark eyes, and sharp jaw. It was no fucking wonder Litha was so into him. “What’s there to do on Ginger Island?” Shane asked dimly.

“You’ve never been, Shane?” Litha asked.

Shane shrugged. “Never got around to it, I guess.”

“It’s a marvelous place,” Lance announced grandly. “Of course, Litha and I had initially planned a cave dive, but there’s also the white sand beaches, the mysterious ruins, and even a pirate cove that’s alive with music most nights of the week,” he supplied indulgently, giving Shane a warm and oddly very seductive smile.

The guy was charming as fuck — Shane wasn’t ashamed to admit it. “I’m down,” he said finally. “When do we go?”

Lance grinned lazily, tracing a finger across Litha’s cheek. “Whenever the two of you would like,” he promised, standing from the bed and making his way toward the door. “By all means, take your time. I’ll be in the kitchen whipping up some breakfast — but please, let me know if you need anything at all.” Lance winked at them and shut the door behind himself.

Shane was really fucking confused. He looked over at Litha. “Does he want —”

Litha cut him off with a kiss. “Lance wants what I want — and what I want is you.”

Shane was still propped up on his elbows near the bottom of the bed. Litha, who remained stark naked, reclined back onto her pillow, opening her legs wide. Her pussy looked all too fucking appealing in the watery morning light, and despite his weird awakening, he figured that there was absolutely no better way to start his day.

**********

Ginger Island was like a dream.

Though Shane knew that Litha and Lance could have simply warped right to the island, they boarded Willy’s boat instead — for Shane’s sake. That first morning they’d gone, Shane hadn’t really known what to expect, but after a full day of slamming rum drinks on the beach and a full night of chugging ale by the gallon in a musty pirate cove, Shane was pretty taken with it all.

When they finally retired to the little grass hut, Lance took the couch, allowing Shane and Litha the bed. Shane was surprised by the calm, caring demeanor that Lance maintained not only with Litha, but also with Shane himself.

The next morning, Shane awoke with a sense of resoluteness. He snuck out of Litha’s bed, hauled on his pants, and took to the kitchen, where he quietly made breakfast over a quaint wood burning stove.

Lance awoke from the couch before Litha got out of bed. The adventurer regarded Shane with an inviting smile. “You look refreshed, Shane. I trust you slept well?” Lance prompted, claiming a seat at the small bamboo table.

Shane tried to ignore Lance’s tan, ridiculously chiseled six pack. He wasn’t really drooling over the guy — but more or less, thinking back on his own stupidly defined abs before he’d grown to find beer and whisky more appealing than excercise.

Shane shrugged, fixing his eyes firmly on the eggs he was scrambling. “I always sleep well with her.”

Shane could hear Lance fumbling with something behind him, almost nervously. “That’s part of her curse, you know. The Serpent’s Claim. Everything about her is designed to appeal to you.”

Shane sighed, shoving down the frustration blooming in his throat. “I don’t give a fuck about her curse.”

Suddenly, Shane felt Lance approach at his back. Lance put his mouth near Shane’s ear, dropping his voice to a whisper. “You should give fuck, Shane. It’s a vital part of who she is, and something that you should not take lightly.”

“It doesn’t matter either way. I’ll still love her,” Shane said tightly.

“There is no debating that,” Lance soothed. “In no way do I wish to diminish your love for her. You’re important to her, and therefore, you’re important to me. I’m simply suggesting that you know whose bed you're warming — because there’s more to Litha than you think.”

“Yeah? And you’re an expert?”

Lance stepped back, and Shane looked over his shoulder. “One could consider me well informed, I suppose.”

“Because you’ve had so much time to study?” Shane seethed, turning fully to face Lance as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Lance speared Shane with a glare, but it seemed more out of annoyance than anger. “I was stationed in the valley for the sole purpose of studying and observing Litha’s behaviors, actually. The First Slash Clan believes her a threat, and they’re not far off — yet it hasn’t hindered my love for her. I fell for her almost immediately, because just like you, I am a fool for her affections.”

Shane was at a loss. “How could we not be?”

“That is exactly my point.” Lance shook his head. “She’s a monster — prettier, softer, and more sensuous than the ones in the caves, by far — but a monster, nonetheless. Do us all a favor, Shane — inform yourself.”

“She’s just a girl,” Shane muttered. It wasn’t very convincing — for Lance or even Shane himself.

“Is she?” Lance prompted.

Lance reclaimed his seat at the table just as Litha emerged from the bedroom. She took a seat across from Lance, propping her feet up on the table lesiurely. Shane placed a plate of food in front of her, and then another in front of Lance. He filled his own plate and took the third chair.

“Good morning, lads,” Litha mused, a smile splitting her face.

Shane watched her as she pushed food around on her plate. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her consume anything other than alcohol and hallucinogenic roots.

“Why don’t you ever eat?” Shane asked. He’d never really had much of a filter.

Litha looked over at Shane slowly. Through the tension, Shane could feel that Lance was holding his breath. Maybe that’s why Litha found him so easy — he was willing to tiptoe around her.

She speared a piece of egg with her fork and put it in her mouth. She chewed it and swallowed. “Food doesn’t really serve me much of a purpose, I’m afraid,” Litha said with a shrug. “I could eat everything on this plate, if I wanted — but I don’t really see a point.”

Shane nodded. “You’re already full,” he said under his breath, recalling the previous night, which the two of them had spent rolling under blankets.

“You’re filling. What can I say?” Litha simpered, turning her attention to Lance. “Though, admittedly, I could be fuller.”

Oddly, Shane pitied Lance as he watched all sense leave the adventurer’s deep, dark eyes. Shane wondered to himself if that was how he usually looked while deepest in the throes of Litha’s hold on him. Lance’s fingers traced over the back of Litha’s hand, and suddenly, Shane was surprised to find that all the blood from his brain had begun racing toward his cock. He could only imagine the artful way that Lance and Litha’s bodies must look while entwined — and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find the notion appealing.

Just as the two of them rose from their seats and Shane followed suit in a haze, his fucking phone rang. It might as well have doused them all in ice water. Marnie’s name flashed across his screen.

Shane excused himself out the door. Lance and Litha took to the bedroom still, and to his own surprise, Shane didn’t mind. If she was truly just sustaining herself, how could he possibly be angry? Did breakfast get jealous of lunch? It was all so fucking confusing.

“Hey, Marnie,” Shane answered on the last ring.

“Shane! I’ve been calling you for the better part of a day, son! I thought you were dead!” Her frantic voice crackled over the speaker.

Shane pulled the phone away from his ear and spotted the single bar of reception. “Yeah, I haven’t gotten any calls. The signal here is shit. Sorry.”

Marnie sighed. “Where are you, Shane?”

“Ginger Island,” he strained, praying for the call to drop so he could avoid a scolding and perhaps still have time to join in on whatever Lance and Litha had going on.

“How did you get to Ginger Island?” Marnie demanded, her voice fading into static. “Jas is worried sick about you. You really should come home.”

Shane was the shittiest parent on the fucking planet. He resigned. “Okay — yeah. I’ll head home now.”

Shane stood up and smoothed his hair back in frustration. He jerked open the front door. “I’m catching a boat back home, I’ll see you guys at the cabin later, save some energy for me!” He called quickly, slamming the door closed before he could hear any enticing noises that might distract him.

He boarded Willy’s boat hastily, trying not to give life to the giddiness swimming through his head over whatever his night might consist of once he returned to the cabin as promised.

***********

He found Jas and Marnie in the barn. Jas wore boots that were comically too large for her, and Shane recognized them as his own. Marnie, per usual, seemed frustrated.

“Shae!” Jas shrieked, waddling over to him awkwardly. He was surprised that the boots didn’t trip her up. “Aunt Marnie said you were at Ginger Island. Can you take me someday?”

“Sure thing, bug,” he said tentatively, picking Jas up and wiping mud from her cheek with his thumb. He looked to Marnie. “Why don’t we go inside? I’ll throw a pizza in the oven.”

Marnie pulled off her gloves and sighed. “Alright, Shane.”

Within minutes, Marnie and Shane sat at the kitchen table. Jas had run off to play with her dolls.

“How’s Miss Litha?” Marnie asked begrudgingly.

Shane raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t wanna have this argument with you anymore, Marnie. I know you don’t like her — but you’re going to have to get used to it. I love her.”

“She’s got you not acting like yourself, son. It’s not that I don’t like her — I just don’t like her with you.”

“I like her with me,” Shane grumbled. “She’s good for me. She keeps me on my toes.”

“You don’t need to be kept on your toes, my boy. You need peace,” Marnie said softly, taking Shane’s hand. “I think that if you let yourself find peace, you might learn how to be happy, too.”

Shane dropped his head into his hands. It was always this same narrative with Marnie. He’d said it a million times before — “You don’t understand.”

“Of course I don’t, son. How could I?” Marnie fussed. “I just worry for you — and I worry for Jas.”

“I don’t need you to worry for me,” he said. “I just need you to accept the fact I’m going to be dividing my time between here and the farm. I know that I still need to be around for Jas, but I’m thirty-two years old, Marnie — it’s time I find somewhere that I belong.”

As usual, Marnie appeared to be on the verge of tears. “You don’t feel like you belong here?”

“I know that I don’t belong here.”

“So you’re leaving us, then?” She whispered, apparently struggling to maintain composure.

“No — well, kind of. I don’t know, Marnie. I’ll still be around. SunnyVale is just right up the path — it’s not like I’m moving to Galdora,” Shane explained, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

Marnie’s eyes narrowed. “But if Litha moved back to Galdora, you’d follow, wouldn’t you?”

“How did you know?” And how much did she know?

“That your lady friend is a witch? Word gets around, Shane.”

Apparently, not very much. “Don’t be stupid. Litha moved here from Zuzu, just like me.”

Marnie only shook her head, and before she could dig any deeper, Shane hopped out of his seat and left. He knew that Litha and Lance probably hadn’t returned from the island, but he didn’t mind waiting for them.

***********

At long last, Spring had come, and Shane had returned to bliss — well, maybe not bliss, but his pheromone and alcohol induced version of it, at least.

It had been weeks since he’d last been down to the ranch. Since he’d been to work. Since he’d done anything, really, other than hang around SunnyVale with Litha, Lance, and the occasional Abigail. He felt like a real sack of garbage for essentially abandoning his entire life, but this was what real adults did, right? Find their person and stick to them at all costs? Even after his weeks spent holed up in Litha’s cabin, Shane was still really fucking confused — but his confusion went by the wayside pretty constantly, considering that he couldn’t seem to keep his head on straight lately.

Shane had been drowning in his vices. No one seemed to notice, and no one seemed to care. He’d returned to Litha’s fancy wines, and when it wasn’t the wine, it was her. Shane’s days were divided into Litha days, and not Litha days. When she was around, he’d fawn over her, following her from one room to the other, working the farm with her, fucking her, fucking Lance, fucking her and Lance together — and then when she wasn’t around, he’d drink. It was really that simple.

And Litha seemed happy enough. That’s really what mattered to Shane. On one particular warm spring morning, Shane was out in the fields helping Litha with harvest. Spring had only just begun, but the farm was already verdant. Shane had never seen such a rapid rise in production.

Lance was in the Highlands on this specific day, so it was just the two of them. Shane’s eyes were bloodshot, his skin was itchy, and his stomach was in knots — but he had work to do on the farm, so he did it.

Litha was harvesting potatoes while Shane harvested green beans. She was wearing loose overalls and a big floppy straw hat. In light of the spring sunshine, her freckles had come out, and her pale skin had a pink flush to it — but most notably, Litha was smiling.

She dug up a potato and laughed, dusting the dirt off of it and holding it up for Shane to see. It was… oddly very phallic. “Magic certainly has its uses on a farm,” Litha teased, dropping the root into her basket. “I can’t wait to see what sort of eggplants I’ll grow this Fall.”

Shane smirked. “You seem happier, Li. Is it the abundance of dick shaped produce, or do you finally feel like you’ve found your place?”

Litha shrugged, keeping at her work. “Hm. Maybe both — maybe neither.”

Things had changed lately, but Litha was just as cryptic as ever — and Shane hadn’t taken Lance’s advice. He hadn’t read up on Litha’s affliction, because he decided that he didn’t want to know. The more he was reminded of it, the more he only felt like a pawn, and at the root of all things, Shane only wanted to feel like he truly mattered — so he stayed in the dark. He was beginning to feel comfortable in the dark.

As the sun set, they left the fields with their baskets of produce and returned to the cabin just as Lance was arriving home. Shane poured a glass of wine for each of them as they took to the living room. Litha drained hers in a single gulp, and then she turned her attention to Lance.

“We missed you today,” Litha said lowly as she kissed her way up Lance’s neck, her hand traveling skillfully under his armor.

Lance took a long drink of his wine. “And I missed you,” he said, pressing a kiss to Litha’s forehead and glancing over at Shane. “How was the harvest?”

Shane raised his glass. “Li is growing dick shaped vegetables now. I think you and I are about to become obsolete.”

Litha laughed, and Lance feigned shock. “Is it true, my beloved? Have Shane and I gone out of style?”

“I could be convinced to keep you around,” she purred, licking the column of Lance’s neck before standing and removing her tight white shirt which had nothing underneath it.

Shane had watched her nipples poke through that shirt all fucking day, so he didn’t need anymore of a reason to stand right along with her and follow as she took to the bedroom, Lance trailing close behind them.

Shane couldn’t recall the first time that the three of them had sex — all he knew was that, at some point, it had become the norm. They were pretty creative in their endeavors, but one thing remained constant — Litha was the center of attention. Sometimes, she’d lay atop Shane’s body, reclining her back against him while he held her legs in the air, drilling her ass as Lance knelt in front of them, buried deep in her pussy. Other times, they’d take to the couch, where she’d ride Shane’s cock as Lance feasted upon her ass.

At some point, in the midst of their continuous lust fueled days and nights, Shane was railroaded with the realization that, just as Marnie had promised, history was repeating itself. How would any of them cope if Litha became pregnant? Neither he nor Lance ever wore a condom, and to his knowledge, Litha wasn’t on any form of birth control. Come to think of it, it was a wonder that she wasn’t already with child. The thought ate at him for the rest of the night, long after they were all spent and exhausted.

The next morning, Shane was still stewing on the thought. It was one of Lance’s few days off, so Litha and Shane spoke silently in the kitchen, happy to let the hardworking adventurer get some well deserved sleep.

“What if you get pregnant, Li?” Shane said without wasting a second.

Litha was taken aback. “I won’t,” she said simply.

“What do you mean? How can you know?” Shane insisted, pouring his breakfast wine.

“It’s part of The Serpent’s Claim. I’ll never have a child,” Litha explained in a way that seemed suspiciously nonchalant.

Fuck. Maybe Shane should have done his research after all. “I’m sorry,” was all he could manage.

“For what? I’d make a shit mother.”

“I don’t think you would.” Shane had never formed an opinion on the matter, but the words came out autonomously. It seemed like the right thing to say.

Litha shook her head. She seemed annoyed. “I don’t know why you’d think —”

Suddenly, Litha was cut off by a knock at the door. Shane looked at the clock — it was only 7:00AM. He had a bad feeling.

“I’ll get it,” Shane said, pushing out of his seat.

He tugged open the door and nearly slammed it when he saw who stood in the threshold. Olivia.

“Hello, Shane,” Olivia sneered, her arms crossed over her chest and her sultry face fixed into a scowl. “Aren’t you supposed to be in rehab, dear?”

Shane could only see red as Olivia stepped right past him and directly into the cabin. He wasn’t sure what she’d come for, but he was sure what she’d leave with — anger, and a spicy new bit of gossip for Tuesday aerobics.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Shane was really fucking hung over, and everyone was yelling.

Everyone was yelling — yet all Shane could seem to focus on was Olivia’s flashy diamond jewelry glinting in the morning light with each thrust of her finger and turn of her head.

“Who do you think you are?” Litha cried. “Get out of my house!”

Olivia was right in Litha’s face. Shane would never have imagined that she was capable of acting so fucking childishly, but as much as he wanted to demand that she turn around and walk out the door, he was caught in a stalemate with his own brain. Shane was about as useful as a legless horse.

For the millionth time, Olivia waggled her finger at Litha, who was wholly in defense mode. “I know what game you’re playing at, you pretty little jezebel — and I want you to leave Shane out of it!”

Litha looked to Shane for assistance, but he’d backed himself into a corner. He could barely hear their voices over the sound of his heartbeat pounding in his ears — but luckily for him, Lance woke up just in time.

Lance rushed into the room and stepped between the two women, shielding Litha with his own body. “What is the meaning of this?” He demanded.

Shane was fascinated by the way that Litha seemed comfortable and content within the protection that Lance offered her. Shane wondered if he, himself, would ever get the opportunity to protect her.

Litha looked up at Lance from behind his shoulder. “Mrs. Jenkins thinks that I’m soiling our dear Shane’s virtue,” she said in a mocking tone, ever the fucking smartass.

Lance’s brows shot nearly to his hairline as he looked Olivia over. “What business is it of yours?” He inquired, sounding more confused than anything.

Olivia’s posture relaxed slightly as she crossed her arms over her chest. She fixed her dark eyes on Lance with a smirk. “Shane and I are lovers — or at least we were, until the village whore swooped in and stole him away.”

Lance’s lips pressed into a thin line as Litha chuckled dryly, and then, like a strike of lightning, she was on the move. Shane could barely register the blur of her limbs as she ducked around Lance and advanced toward Olivia.

Shane marked the way that Olivia’s regal face twisted with shock, just a fraction of a second before Litha’s fist made contact with her nose, resulting in a horrific wet crunching noise. Shane’s stomach turned over, but now was not the time for vomit.

Just as Olivia started shrieking, Lance moved to contain Litha, who immediately began squirming like a captured animal when his arms went around her.

“Shane!” Lance called. “Get her out of here, now!” He demanded, nodding firmly toward a screaming, bleeding Olivia as he frantically attempted to drag the feral, wriggling Litha off toward the bedroom.

Lance’s voice cut through Shane’s stupor like a hot knife. Within seconds, he was across the room, taking Olivia’s slumping shoulders in his hands and guiding her out the door as she sobbed and wretched.

Once they stood on the porch, Shane pivoted her to face him. Her nose was dripping blood and tears were streaming from her red, rage simmering eyes. “Why did you come here, Olivia?” He asked tightly. “I’m happy. Can’t you just leave good enough be?”

Olivia’s eyes narrowed and her lips curved into a sinister smirk. Blood flowed into her mouth, staining her teeth red. Shane was ashamed to admit how fucking creepy she looked. “Happiness is fleeting, Shane,” she seethed. “I want you to remember that.”

Shane scoffed. He hadn’t expected it to sound so malicious. “It’s all fucking fleeting, Olivia.”

Olivia straightened her spine and uselessly wiped the blood from her face. She didn’t say another word as she strutted down the stairs and away from the cabin.

Shane remained on the front porch for a moment, just mulling it all over. He had no fucking idea that Olivia had become so taken with him — especially not taken enough to come all the way across town just to make an ass of herself and then threaten him. He wondered what kind of man her husband had been, and if he’d given her some sort of weird complex for irreparable men.

Shane shook off his unease and stepped back into the cabin. The kitchen and living room were deceptively silent. The only evidence of what had occurred came in the form of a few small drops of blood on the stained linoleum. Shane navigated toward their bedroom, where he found Litha curled up in a tight ball on Lance’s lap in the center of the wide bed. Her head rested on his shoulder, and her teary eyes stared blankly off into the distance as Lance petted her hair, shushing and soothing her like a child.

Lance’s dark eyes snapped up to Shane as he crossed the threshold — the adventurer was in defense mode.

“Li…” Shane started as he approached her cautiously. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe her.”

Litha was silent and disassociated for a moment, but then, her eyes wandered up to Shane’s face. “I’ve done a bad thing,” she whispered, her voice hollow and monotone.

Lance, to his credit, looked concerned, despite his apparent frustration. He laid a hand on her cheek and pulled her closer to kiss her brow before easing out from beneath her and situating her still, shock ridden body underneath the comforter. “Hush now, my beloved. Try to get some sleep,” he crooned, stepping away from the bedside and toward the door.

Lance beckoned Shane to join him as he moved toward the front door, and once they were on the porch, he fixed his eyes on Shane. “This can never happen again,” Lance said simply.

Shane rubbed his brow hard. “We’re lucky Litha didn’t fucking stab her,” he said, feeling particularly fortunate that Litha’s sword hadn’t been within arms reach.

“This isn’t a joke, Shane,” Lance insisted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Litha is… too valuable to be subjected to such nonsense.”

Shane couldn’t believe it. “She spends half her time killing monsters in the fucking caves,” he spat. “You can’t honestly tell me that Olivia poses any actual threat to her.”

“Olivia Jenkins has a lot of influence. This incident will not stand without consequence,” Lance warned, stepping off the porch onto the cobblestone. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make a trip to the guild. Keep an eye on Litha — I’ll be back before sun down.”

Shane nodded, and within the blink of an eye, Lance had vanished.

Shane sulked back into the cabin and climbed in bed next to Litha. She was still and silent, but her eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the wall. Shane curled up against her back, resting his head against her shoulder.

“I’m ruining your life, aren’t I?” She said suddenly, so softly that it was barely a whisper.

Shane craned his neck to look at her. “The furthest from it,” he assured her.

“I think I’m an enabler, Shane,” she said, pulling further into herself as he put an arm around her.

Shane considered for a moment. Maybe she was an enabler, but so was everyone else he’d ever met — ever loved. “What difference does it make?” He knew it sounded stupid as he said it aloud, but he meant it. If he was going to be enabled by someone, why not her?

“You’re the most self destructive person I’ve ever met, sweet boy — that’s what difference it makes,” Litha insisted, her voice sounding dry and hollow. “Olivia had no right coming here, but I think she’s actually concerned for you.”

“I’m happy, Li,” he grumbled, raking a hand through his hair. “Why isn’t that enough?”

“Because I want to do right by you, Shane. It doesn’t make sense for me to worry over you while also helping you see yourself to an early grave,” she sighed, rolling over to face him. “Will you just let me try to be good for you?”

He marked the way that her teal colored irises looked so much brighter against the red tinged white of her eyes, and the tiny splatters of blood across her nose and forehead that looked almost like freckles. “You can do whatever you want, Litha,” Shane said gruffly. It sounded apathetic, but he meant it — though he had no idea what her resolution entailed.

“Okay,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

Litha cuddled against Shane’s chest, and without another word, they drifted peacefully off to sleep.

***********

Days passed, and even though Litha’s incident with Olivia wasn’t spoken another word of, Shane could still feel the tension hanging heavy in the air. He wasn’t quite sure why, exactly — but he could feel it, and tiptoeing around it was becoming more tedious with every passing hour.

Litha was brooding. There wasn’t a more accurate way to describe it. She’d gone silent, which was a feat for her in itself, and she’d been doing the bare minimum of her farm work, so in turn, Shane was picking up her slack — mostly socializing the animals, which he didn’t mind, but most notably of all, Litha hadn’t been out adventuring since the incident. Shane didn’t really mind that either, selfishly, because she’d been spending most of her time at his side — though that time was almost entirely spent in silence. Shane was content to sit with her in solitude, until Lance pulled him off to the side and slapped him with the fat fucking reality check that adventuring was Litha’s favorite thing in the world, and that watching her sit on her ass was clearly a cause for concern — so they made a resolve, just between the two of them.

The next morning, Lance woke Litha and Shane up at 6:00AM sharp, throwing the curtains open with one hand as he held Litha’s shining sword in the other.

Shane fought the urge to groan, but Litha did it for him, her face mashed straight into her pillow. “If you know what’s best for you, you’ll draw those curtains,” she growled.

Shane squinted his eyes open to find Lance grinning, his perfectly white teeth glinting in the morning sun. The guy was stupidly hot, and Shane had no problem admitting that. “Do your worst, Litha — I’m not drawing the curtains,” he murmured, dropping a kiss onto the back of her head. “It’s time to wake up, love.”

“Shane can feed the damn chickens,” she grumbled, turning her head just enough to peek at him. “Can’t you, Shane?”

Shane really sucked at telling her no, so he put on his big boy voice and hoped it would sound convincing. “I can, Li — but you still have to get up.”

“Everything else can wait.”

“No, it can’t,” Lance insisted. “You know that we have to get an early start in the Skull Cavern, of course.”

Litha lifted her head enough to side-eye Lance. “I’m not in the mood today, lads.”

Lance loosed a long, heavy sigh. “You’re probably starving, Litha,” he said gently, sitting on the bed next to her sprawled out body and dragging his fingers across the bare small of her back.

Shane watched her skin pebble beneath those fingers, and in turn, his did as well. “You haven’t eaten in days,” Shane whispered into her ear. He knew how shitty she must have felt — because he felt the same.

“I know that,” she said breathily, arching her back against Lance’s touch.

Shane glanced up at Lance — a silent inquiry as to which of them had the honors. He gave Shane a small smile. “I’ll go get our packs ready, my beloved —”

“I want you both,” she insisted, rolling onto her back and taking each of their hands. “Please.”

Shane looked her over thoroughly. He couldn’t really focus on anything other than the sallow gray undertone of her usually rosy skin. It really had been days. Without another thought, he rolled onto his stomach and fixed his head between her legs, wrapping his arms around her thighs and jerking her closer to him. A gasp left her throat as Shane dragged his tongue up the length of her pussy, and he liked to think it was a sound of anticipation.

Lance may have been hotter than Shane — buffer, more tan, taller, smarter, and a damn good lay — but it didn’t matter. Shane knew, in his heart, that no one could hit Litha’s sweet spot quite like he could. Not even Lance. He liked to think that Lance knew it too, especially as he slid himself behind Litha’s reclined body and watched them lovingly, holding her back close against himself as Shane lapped up her precious wetness and she panted wildly.

Shane glanced up just in time to see Lance cup her chin and tilt her face up toward his. “Is Shane going to make you come, my love?” He asked tenderly as he held her tit firmly with his unoccupied hand, rolling her nipple between his thumb as forefinger.

“Only if he asks you nicely,” Litha whimpered to Lance, just as his mouth descended on hers.

Shane slowed his pace. He’d been devouring her, driving his tongue in and out of her exquisitely tight hole as quickly as his aching jaw allowed. He kept his eyes on Lance, watching as he explored Litha’s mouth hungrily. When his eyes finally found Shane’s, they were dark, and heavy lidded. Shane drove his tongue into her again, as deeply as it would go.

She cried out. “Please!”

Lance’s hand found its way to her throat, where his long fingers squeezed gently. “Not yet, Shane,” he said, his voice smooth and smoky. “I want her dripping by the time I’m ready to fuck her.”

Shane’s dick was so hard that he feared it might pierce a fucking hole in the old mattress. He wasn’t sure exactly what came over him, but he moved his mouth away from her pussy and bit down on her inner thigh — hard.

Litha’s body jerked under his grasp. He feared he’d be in trouble, until he heard her sharp intake of breath, followed by “Fuck.”

He pressed a kiss against the indentations of his teeth on her soft thigh, and then another. His hand found its way to her pussy, where he plunged two thick fingers inside and looked up at her, as if for permission. Among all other ways, this was his favorite to make her come. Something about the way that her wetness pooled in the palm of his hand…

Lance smirked, never taking his eyes off Shane as his fingers tightened around Litha’s neck. “Go on, Shane,” he said, his voice sounding amused as Litha panted softly beneath his grasp. “I think she’s ready.”

Without hesitation, Shane pressed his flattened tongue against her clit, immediately feeling a tremor radiate through her as his fingers began to curl and uncurl slowly. He waited until that tremor had turned to trembling, and then, he picked up his pace, pumping his fingers so rapidly that his wrist ached and Litha’s whimpering rose to a sharp octave.

“Shane, please! Don’t stop!” She pleaded, her hips rising and bucking as Shane and Lance held her effortlessly in place.

He didn’t stop — he wouldn’t dare to — not until he’d had his fill of her. Only seconds later, her back arched off the bed, and her legs nearly slammed shut — but Shane held them open, lapping up every fucking drop of pure heaven until her orgasm came to a close and her body fell slack.

As usual, Shane was overcome with a prickling tidal wave of euphoria, but as Lance slid out from behind Litha’s back, Shane still managed to roll away from her. He fought like hell to keep his eyes open as Lance flipped Litha over onto her belly and roughly hauled her ass up toward his hips. He gave each of her asscheeks a loud smack, drug the palm of his hand up along her pussy, and licked that hand as he drove his impressive length into her mercilessly.

Shane looked up at Litha’s face pressed against the bed. Her eyes were closed, almost peacefully, and her lips were curved into a dreamy smile as Lance slammed into her, rocking her entire body while the bed squeaked incessantly beneath them.

Shane wasn’t sure when it happened, but at some point, his hand wrapped itself around his cock — and he was now stroking steadily as he watched Lance use Litha just the way she liked it. Shane was mesmerized by her bouncing tits, her pink flushed cheeks, and the way that every single muscle on Lance’s body seemed to stand to attention as he hunched over her, fucking her like it was the last thing he’d ever do in his life.

Shane came within minutes, rolling in wave after wave of pheromone induced bliss as his orgasm dragged him under and his come leaked over his hand. Apparently it was all too much for him, because before he could even watch Lance spill himself into her, Shane fell asleep.

*********

Shane awoke with a start, still sprawled out on the white stain splotched sheets in the bedroom. There was a handwritten note beside his head.

‘Gone adventuring — be back before sunrise. Love, L & L.’

Shane chuckled and flipped the paper over.

‘P.s Can you still feed the chickens?’

He only shook his head as he hauled himself out of bed and tugged his pants on. Just as he was approaching the front door, he heard a knock. His heart dropped into his stomach — it couldn’t be anything good.

He took a deep breath and swung the door open, only to find… no one. Shane stepped onto the porch and looked around, but there was nothing — only beams of bright afternoon sunshine and a few fat cows grazing the pasture. He thought he was being pranked, until he heard the rustling of paper beneath his booted foot.

He looked down, and there was a fancy looking black envelope sticking out from underneath his boot. It was stuck closed with red wax, sealed with the letter A. Shane didn’t hesitate to open the envelope.

Inside, there was only a small white letter card. It was blank, save for an elongated twelve point star in the center. Shane shrugged and replaced the card in its envelope. He placed it on the kitchen table and locked the door behind him on his way out to the chicken coops.

********

Like the fool he was, Shane waited up for Lance and Litha. Mostly because he missed them, but also because he’d been wondering about the envelope — all fucking day.

When the duo walked through the cabin door at exactly 1:50AM, Litha’s eyes honed in on the black envelope immediately, even in the darkened room. Shane wondered if she could smell it.

Her face immediately went paler than he’d ever seen it. The three of them approached the table together, as if waiting for a bomb to detonate.

“This is very, very bad,” Litha choked out as she picked it up and drew the letter card from it.

Shane glanced over at Lance, who also appeared frightened. Shane couldn’t recall ever once seeing Lance look frightened before.

Shane, himself, was beginning to panic. “I don’t see what the big deal is, Li,” he diverted, rubbing the back of his neck.

Litha only stared at the twelve point star in silence, but it was Lance who said, “It’s a summons.”

Shane was at a loss. “A summons to..?”

“Galdora,” Litha said tightly, crumpling the card in her hand.

The silence that befell the room around him was more smothering than anything he’d ever experienced.

“For… what?” Shane asked dimly, trying desperately to gauge their faces.

Litha dropped the envelope on the table and looked up at Lance. Lance nodded, and then she looked at Shane as she pulled out a chair from underneath the table. “Sit down, sweet boy — the three of us need to talk.”

Shane followed suit hesitantly, as did Lance. “What’s this all about?” Shane asked suspiciously, eying Lance and Litha from across the table — who were both still armed to the teeth.

Litha swallowed hard, and Lance rubbed her shoulder reassuringly. “Go on, Litha. He’ll love you all the same.”

Shane wasn’t sure what the fuck Lance meant, but he was right. Whatever it was, Shane would love her.

Litha drew in a deep breath. “I haven’t been… honest — about my background.”

Shane’s face fell deadpan. “No shit, Li?”

Lance slammed a flat palm against the table, shaking its entirety — and catching Shane’s attention. “Don’t patronize her, Shane. This is a sensitive matter.”

Shane eyed Lance carefully. “So, whatever this is about… you already know?” Of course he fucking did. It was a waste of breath to even ask. For weeks on end, Lance had prattled on and on about her curse, and her value, and all that other cryptic shit that Shane had never bothered to blink an eye at. Before Lance could reply, Shane bit out, “Don’t answer that.”

Lance shook his head slowly, but Litha pressed on. “I’ll start from the beginning, lad,” she said through a long sigh.

Abruptly, Shane pushed out of his seat and took to the fridge, from which he took a half empty bottle of wine. He uncorked it and set it on the table, keeping his fingers wrapped around the bottle neck as he reclaimed his seat. He knocked back a few gulps, and fixed his eyes on Litha, who only looked sad. “From the beginning, then,” Shane muttered.

“Twenty four years ago this Summer, I was born the first daughter of Rhonar and Ismeeri Annehaen, King and Queen of Galdora,” Litha said concisely, her plucky accent wrapping around each slow spoken consonant.

Shane took a moment to connect the dots — an embarrassingly long moment. “So you’re…—”

“A princess,” Lance cut in proudly. “Princess Litha Annehaen, to be specific. The Fairy Rose of Galdora.”

Litha speared Lance with the most withering glare Shane had ever seen in his life. “But that’s all behind me, now,” she said grittily, swiping Shane’s bottle from him and taking a long swig.

“How the fuck does a Galdoran Princess end up working for Joja? And then… taking over a farm?” Shane spat, looking around at the cabin as if it’d been cast in a whole new light.

“I told you before, I was banished from Galdora — given two mundane options in which I’d live to serve my punishment,” she explained, raking a hand through her sooty hair. “I never wanted to be a princess, so in my mind, I simply wasn’t one. I preferred blades over politics, adventure over court, boots over slippers — and on one fine sunny day, my lust for a life truly lived got the better of me.”

“I stole a ship and a crew of thirteen men from my father’s naval fleet in the dead of night. Two days prior, I heard about a gem so precious buried in the rugged wilderness of the Gotoro jungle, I knew that I had to find it for myself. Not for the riches it may bring, or the good fortune I’d supposedly incur — but for the glory. The ship sailed for four days and three nights before we were marooned on a desolate island in the middle of the fucking Gem Sea.”

Shane was on the edge of his seat, and to his surprise, Lance was as well. Maybe Shane wasn’t much more in the dark than Lance, after all.

Litha pressed on, toying with the tip of the scarf around her neck. “We were stranded for days — weeks, maybe. I don’t know. I watched the sun rise and set five times, but it felt like years. The island was entirely fruitless — no fish, no berries, no game — and my men and I were starving. During that fateful morning of the sixth sun, something changed in me — or rather, something grew teeth.”

“They say those with The Serpent’s Claim are born with it — that from the moment they exit the womb, they’re doomed to a life of decadence, and shame — but up until that sixth sunrise on that fucking barren, sandy wasteland, I was just a girl. I’ve thought about it every day since then, and I think that, somewhere deep in my DNA, the curse was buried — and through the hunger that I experienced after no fewer than five fruitless days baking in the sun and starving, it was triggered. I cannot discount the fact that whatever triggered my curse saved my life — allowing me an alternate source of sustenance — but as for that crew of thirteen men… I killed them. Each and every last one, I drained until they were nothing more than husks — and what’s more, they let me. Willingly.”

Litha went silent for a moment, searching Shane’s eyes for any sign of dismay, or disgust — but Shane knew she wouldn’t find it. No matter how deep she looked, she’d only find love.

She shook her head slowly, and kept on. “Some time later, they found me. Galdora came for me, by order of royal decree. My father had placed a bounty on my head for stealing one of his precious ships, but what those henchmen found was so much more than the ship thief they bargained for, because after Yoba knows how long I spent on that island, I wasn’t a woman anymore — just as none of those thirteen men were men. I was no longer Litha Annehaen — I was a monster. And I have been, every day since.”

“Those early years with the Serpent were brutal. I was insatiable — ravenous. After I was spirited back to Galdora, my father kept me under lock and key, angry over the shame I’d already brought him, and fearful over the shame that whatever I’d turned into might bring him further. But ultimately, word got out that the Fairy Rose of Galdora was being held in the dungeons, and my father had enough. I was banished, given the mercy of choosing my own punishment, and sent away with two stipulations — I was to never bring physical harm to another sentient being for as long as I live, and I was to carry my mothers maiden name, opposed to my royal name.”

“And you punched Olivia in the nose,” Shane supplied, trailing off as his brain struggled to sort through the overload of information he’d just been given.

Lance nodded. “Yes. Olivia, who has strong ties with Galdora, and has for longer than Litha has drawn breath.”

Litha rolled her eyes. “I don’t want to hear anymore, Lance.”

“So you’ll go to Galdora, and then what?” Shane demanded. He didn’t know much about the magical continent, but he’d heard tales of their cruel savagery since he was a boy.

Litha shrugged. “They’ll hang me, I suppose. Bury my body in an unmarked grave, send my belongings out to sea, and burn my farm to the ground.”

Shane shot out of his seat. He could have sworn that his throat was closing up. “I’m going to fix this,” he choked out aimlessly. “This is my fault, Li — and I’m going to fix it.”

Litha’s head only fell into her hands, but Lance stood as well. “I plan to submit an appeal on your behalf, Litha — I’ll explain that you were provoked, and insist that the summons be dropped.”

Shane admired Lance’s diplomacy, but he had something entirely different in mind.

**********

Within ten minutes, Shane was standing on Olivia’s doorstep in the dead of night, pounding on the sturdy door so hard that his knuckles threatened to bleed. Seconds passed, and eventually, Shane heard the locks click open. Victor.

“Shane,” Victor said tightly. “I think it’s best that you go.”

Shane could only see red as he shoved past Victor, propelling the younger man’s body into the wall. “I think it’s best that you get the fuck out of my way,” Shane growled, stepping toward the center of the foyer. “Olivia!” He called. “I don’t know where the fuck you are, but I’ll tear this whole goddamn house down if you don’t get in here and look me in the fucking eyes!”

Shane waited for a few moments, spearing Victor with a glare that kept his ass firmly on the fucking ground. Finally, he heard the telltale clicking of Olivia’s heels against hardwood. She stopped at the top of the stairs, folding her arms over her ample chest as the light from the overhead candles made her jewelry twinkle and dance.

“Face me,” he demanded, nodding to the floor directly in front of him. “I want to see your fucking shame.”

Slowly — leisurely, Olivia crept down the stairs, stopping right before Shane. Her full red lips were set into a scowl, and a harsh yellow bruise crept out from beneath her bandaged nose, outward to her under eyes. “Why are you here, Shane?”

Shane yanked the crumpled black envelope from his hoodie pocket. “We got a summons today. From Galdora.”

Olivia chuckled. “Yes, I’m sure you did. Little Miss Litha has really gotten herself into a bit of a mess, hasn’t she?”

Shane could have strangled her. Right then and there. “Whatever complaint you lodged against her — I want you to redact it. Right now.”

Olivia’s fingertips grazed the cast covering her nose. She flinched. “Why on earth would I do that, Shane?”

Shane inched closer to her — close enough that she could undoubtedly smell the alcohol on his breath. “Because, Olivia, if any harm comes to Litha, I will die making sure that you suffer ten fucking fold.” He could feel the rage simmering in his eyes as he said it. Shane had lived in his own head for a long fucking time, but never once had he felt such white hot, unrelenting anger. For Litha, he’d kill and die — it was really that simple, and he knew that Olivia could see as much.

Olivia took a step back, and just then, Victor shot up off the ground and threw himself between Shane and his mother. “This is unacceptable, Shane. Wherever your mother is, I’m sure she would be ashamed of you — threatening an innocent woman in her own home. You need to leave — right now.”

After all the stupid, terrible shit that Shane had learned that night, for whatever reason, the mention of his mother really hit home, dousing him in a bucket of cold water. Without another word, Shane turned on his heel and slipped out the door.

Chapter Text

Shane’s mom was pretty.

Obviously, that isn’t all she ever was, but it’s all she ever cared to be.

He was only a small boy the first time that one of his mother’s friends pinched his cheek and told his mother that he looked just like her. He scarcely understood the concept of beauty at the time, but even then, his toddler sized brain had taken it as a compliment. Deena’s little boy, they’d call him. As he aged, he understood that they’d likely just never remembered his name, but when he was small, they might as well have been calling him a prince.

Deena Slater was too good for this fucked up world, even though Marnie wouldn’t agree, and Shane’s father specifically said that the Fern Islands were better off without her. In Shane’s eyes, Deena was a saint, simply because she was all he had. It’s easy to assume that someone hung the stars when you’re made to believe they invented the whole damn sky.

To Shane, his mother was… home. Granted, that home may have been frightening, and dirty, and littered with cigarette butts, but home is home. He learned to grow comfortable in what was known. He learned to idolize what he feared.

Even well into his adult life, Shane could still vividly recall those days that Deena would pull up in front of his school, blasting retro rock music in her beat up old sports car with all the windows down. She’d have a long cigarette hanging from her smiling lips, and knots in her long black hair from the wind. The other boys would tease him for having a pretty mother, and eventually, Shane came to resent her for it. Why did she always have to be the center of attention? Why couldn’t she just be normal, like the moms in their clunky minivans with their bobbed hair and snack-filled purses the size of duffel bags?

Shane was eight years old when the resentment finally grew roots. He still loved her — he still worried for her — but more than anything, he was angry with her. He was angry with her for being reckless, and careless — and he was angry that she got herself killed.

Just as quickly as she lived, she died, and Shane grieved. Not just for the wild animal that served as a placeholder for a mother, but for all that she’d never been, and all she’d never have the chance to be. Shane never really forgave her for all of it — not that she’d apologized.

Once Deena had passed, Shane and his piece of shit father, Michael, moved into a small, sleazy apartment on the bad side of town, and for a little while, things weren’t so bad. Life carried on. Michael drank a fifth a day, and Shane fell in love with gridball. They weren’t tiptoeing around each other — they were living two separate lives. Shane preferred it that way, because when Michael did bother to acknowledge him, it was just cruel.

Even then, Shane had known why his father was cruel, apart from Michael simply being a shitty person. Shane looked like his mother, with his black hair and his round nose, and he acted like her, with his hair trigger impulses and powder keg temper. Despite his father’s disdain, Shane had actually liked himself, then — if only because he believed he was keeping Deena’s memory alive.

Shane grappled for anything that kept Deena’s memory alive, really. He liked to spray her old perfume on his pillow, and keep her hairbrush in a box under his bed. He liked to listen to her CDs when his father wasn’t home. He liked to pretend that she hadn’t died at all, because really, Shane had never felt so alone.

Their new apartment was quiet, and nothing had ever felt so foreign. When Deena had still been alive, every day was like a circus, and every night was like a bank robbery. Shane could distinctly remember the way that he used to lie awake at night and listen to his parents scream at one another. He remembered the sobbed threats, the crashing sounds, and the dread in his gut that made his head hurt and his limbs feel spacey. He’d count the seconds between the front door slamming and the red of his father’s tail lights illuminating the small window above his dresser. He’d watch the crimson glow fade to nothingness as the tension went with it, and then, his mother would come into his room.

Deena would crawl in bed next to him and take him into her arms. He could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she sobbed silently, and the trembling that radiated through her body like shockwaves. She never said a word, but Shane liked to imagine what it would sound like if she said she was sorry. If she told him that no little boy should have to hear those things. If she told him she loved him. But it was all in his head.

And now, she was all in his head, and he missed her. He missed feeling anything other than alone. But eventually, Winter would come, and with Winter came Marnie.

Shane loved his Aunt Marnie more than anyone on the planet, and the weeks that he spent at her ranch made all the other weeks worth living. He had fun with the chickens, and the little girls that lived on Willow Lane. The old farmer, Marnie’s neighbor to the north, taught him how to pickle eggs and make juice. Life was good for those two weeks out of every year, but when the Spring sun began shining, reality would take its hold, and his perfect little life in Pelican Town would collapse in favor of the gray monotony of Grampleton — in favor of his father.

Michael was a criminal defense lawyer, serving the saltiest salt of the Fern Islands. Shane always thought his father was a snake, but apparently, he was good at his job — or at least he had been, before he met Deena, Deena had Shane, and Shane fucked everything up for the both of them.

Every time Michael celebrated a win, Shane liked to believe that, someday, karma would get him back — especially when those clients would reoffend, and something heinous would happen, all because his father was too damn good at his job. With time, Shane began to fear that same karma — scared that it would come for him, too, which ate at him well into his adult years.

When Shane was ten, Michael was fired from the law firm he’d been employed at since before Shane was born. He’d blamed the incident on one of his female coworkers, but Shane could still remember the change that he’d noticed in his father long before he’d been fired — the way that he’d sometimes fall asleep at the park, or swerve into oncoming traffic, or get a little bit too angry and break something. Shane had also noticed a sort of… smell. It was a smell that he’d been unable to identify until the day he smelled it on himself. Decay. Rot. Yellowed eyes, sallow skin, inflamed gums. The family curse, coming to fruition. Shane was fucking repulsed by it, but still, he kept on.

After Michael lost his job, he never found another. He landed himself in the hospital so many fucking times that, eventually, the disability checks started flowing. Shane could remember being so fucking angry at whoever signed off on that dumbass ruling — because now, not only could his father see himself straight to his early dotage, he could do it comfortably.

Around that same time, Shane began to notice a change in himself, too. By all accounts — or at least, according to Marnie — Shane had been a happy child. But once Deena had passed, and Michael began working tirelessly at carving out that bloated, body shaped depression in his stained recliner, Shane darkened — drastically. He had all the best parts of his mother, and all the worst parts of his father — he was equally as erratic as he was full of rage, and it made for a messy, messy fucking teenager.

Around the age of fifteen, his darkness, his trauma, his grief — it all turned to ego. Shane started working out — every fucking day. He became obsessed with it quickly, and with his obsession came an idealization of immortality. Surely, if his body was in peak condition, it would never fail him. He would never wither and rot, like his father, and he’d never fly too close to the sun, like his mother. In a way, he feared death, but to a greater extent, he feared fading.

So, to the best of his abilities, Shane immortalized himself. He worked his body to the bone, he honed his skills on the field, and he became the biggest, most swaggering meathead that the likes of Grampleton Senior High School had ever seen.

It was all going according to planned, until the summer before his senior year of high school. He fucked up.

Shane had never been drunk in his life, but that summer, there was a house party. From the beginning, he was hesitant to even go, but a group of friends insisted, and Shane was a weak, pandering moron for their approval.

The night progressed quickly. There were pretty girls, kegs, weed, and liquor, and Shane was uncomfortable as fuck — that is, until he wasn’t.

Shortly after Shane and his friends had arrived, a girl caught his eye. She was tall and tan skinned with long black curls and warm golden eyes — and Shane couldn’t take his eyes off her. He liked how she danced, and the way that she had a bandana tied around her chest in place of an actual shirt. Something about it felt daring as he watched her lift her arms above her head and sway her hips, her dark hair shifting across her back to reveal the tenuous knotting of thin fabric which kept her modesty barely intact.

There was a wild, carefree look in her eyes that called to something deep, deep within him. Shane tried not to acknowledge the fact that the girl resembled his mother — especially not as he begrudgingly knocked back a shot of liquid courage and left his friends behind after thirty minutes of watching her from across the room.

Her name was Amanda, and shortly after Shane had introduced himself, the two of them were cozied up in a quiet corner with a half full vodka bottle, away from prying eyes and bumping music. Shane thought she was fucking breathtaking, undoubtedly, but what’s more — Amanda was a great listener.

He barely knew her, but that didn’t keep him from oversharing. It didn’t keep her, either. With each traumatizing anecdote, they each took a shot, and by the time that Amanda was explaining why her father was in prison for the fifth time in her life, Shane was so fucking wasted that he could barely sit up straight. He almost didn’t notice when she crushed her lips against his and dragged him out of his seat. As they stumbled down the hall toward the ground level bathroom, Shane couldn’t keep up with his own mind as it raced a mile a minute. Was he about to lose his virginity in a fucking bathroom while he was too shit faced to even feel what was happening? He was terrified to even consider it, and ultimately, that terror won out, because when Amanda yanked down his shorts and dropped to her knees in front of him, his dick had never been softer in his entire life. He was mortified — but maybe a little relieved?

At the end of that night, as Shane lay face down in his bed resenting his own existence, he began to sort through it all in his head. At first, he held the liquor responsible for his limp dick, but then, he considered his racing heart and anxiety crippled brain, and decided that nerves could have been the culprit just as well. It couldn’t have been whisky dick — he was just scared. Of course.

That was the first night that Shane started making excuses for himself — the first of many.

*************

“Shane! Your boots! You’ll track mud in!” Litha cried as Shane came through the front door, freezing in his tracks with Lance in tow. The two men nearly collided as Shane peeked over the wet, disintegrating paper bag in his arms, down at his sodden boots atop the already filthy wood flooring, and the drops of water that had fallen from his clothes and hair.

Litha was sitting in the center of the couch with a blanket wrapped around her back. Days had passed since the summons, and there was no word regarding Lance’s appeal, or Shane’s threatening Olivia. Litha was spiraling still — even worse than she’d been before. Shane and Lance were doing their best to keep her grounded, but they’d quickly learned that their best wasn’t good enough. Shane knew that Lance was doing a better job, regardless. So it goes.

“Sorry, Li. It’s pouring out there,” Shane muttered, kicking off his boots as Lance strode over to the fireplace and tossed a log into the flame.

Lance dropped onto the couch next to Litha, slinging an arm around her as he gave Shane a pointed look.

Shane cleared his throat and sat the bag down on the rickety table. “We got you some — uh — things,” he said awkwardly.

Litha sighed in frustration as Lance narrowed his eyes. Shane loved them both, but fuck, could they be difficult. “Is it food?” Litha asked flatly.

Shane chuckled uncomfortably, recalling the day he’d had, and where he’d gone to purchase the substances inside the bag. “Elixirs and wine, actually. We figured you could use them.” He knew better than to get her food — he’d made that mistake once before. Turns out that Serpents don’t like chocolate — who would have guessed.

Litha’s eyes went wide as Shane began removing items from the bag. The Blue Moon wine had been easy enough to get ahold of, but while Lance had gone to Castle Village for something to cheer Litha up, Shane had gone to see the dwarf that hid in the mines to find some weak little potions of his own. He knew that Litha didn’t like the dwarf potions nearly as much as the ones from her homeland, but he got them for her anyway. Shane just wanted to feel useful.

Once they met back up at the farm, Shane felt vastly inferior as Lance plucked a shining crystal tincture bottle from his pocket. The two of them stood at the bottom of the porch steps, disregarding the sheets of rain that fell from the sky.

Lance shrugged as he dropped the fancy bottle into the paper bag that Shane had gotten from Sophia. “You don’t have to tell her it’s from me.”

“What do these things even do?” Shane asked in a deadpan tone. Magic was confusing — he didn’t pretend to understand it.

“Most of them are simple spells for energy, vitality, sleep… this one, though — I’m not sure. I ran into a potion peddler in Castle Village — she said that she’d seen my future, and that my lover was in danger.” Lance chuckled a little, his cheeks blushing pink. “She said that this elixir, in particular, could help her. I think I might have been swindled, because I didn’t even ask how it would help her — I just bought it.”

Shane only shook his head. Lance was such a fucking sucker — but Shane had no room to judge. “You went out of your way for this shit. I didn’t even leave town. Plus, I doubt she’d ever believe that I was the one that bought it.” Namely because Lance had brought Litha such fancy elixirs several times before. Shane didn’t even know how, exactly, one could go about purchasing them.

Lance crossed his arms over his armored chest, spearing Shane with a tired yet very knowing look. “You’ve gotten the worst of her discontentment lately, Shane. I don’t know why, but it seems that you have to work twice as hard for her approval. I just want us all to be happy.”

Though Shane couldn’t discount Lance’s observation, it made his skin crawl all the same. He was right. “Yeah, well sometimes I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I’ll never fit in with you two.”

Unexpectedly, Lance raised his hand to Shane’s face, where he slicked a piece of wet black hair away from his forehead. He’d never really noticed before, but Lance’s eyes weren’t simply brown. They were purple, maroon, mahogany, and every shade in between. “You’re here because you belong, Shane,” Lance said lowly, those fathoms deep eyes boring straight through Shane’s soul. “You’re here because you’re loved.”

While Shane hadn’t considered himself a straight man since he was a teenager, he never really envisioned himself loving another man. Sure, he liked fucking them well enough — but love? Never in a million years. Not until he met Lance, that is.

Shane had loved Dray, sure, but despite all the turmoil and crossed wires, that love boiled down to something that, at its core, was closer to familial than anything else. But with Lance, it was different. Shane felt safe with him. Understood. Cared for. Sometimes, Lance made him feel those things to a greater extent than even Litha could.

Of course, like the coward he was, Shane hadn’t yet worked up the courage to admit such feelings to Lance, but as the adventure’s hands cupped either side of Shane’s jaw, he couldn’t help but jolt forward, crushing his lips into Lance’s so quickly that neither of them had time to react.

For several seconds, they stayed like that, Lance’s fingers weaving into the soaking wet hair at the nape of Shane’s neck, and their tongues exploring each other’s mouths as the kiss deepened. By this point, the rain had begun falling harder and harder, and as Shane dropped the paper bag onto the ground and ran his hands across Lance’s slippery armor, he liked to think that nature was just… giving them this moment to themselves, concealing them with a curtain of heavy rainfall. Lately, it had all been about Litha, and while Shane was generally content enough with it, he’d often fantasized about stolen moments with Lance.

Once Shane could feel the crotch of his shorts growing tighter, he pulled away from Lance with the knowledge that, presently, there wasn’t much to be done about his… condition. He collected the bag off the ground, pushed his hair back, and allowed himself one last look at Lance before they climbed the front porch steps and went inside.

***********

Litha had downed Lance’s elixir as soon as she snatched it hungrily from Shane’s hand. When she tipped back the faceted bottle and the shimmering blue liquid drained past her lips, Shane began wondering if he’d be able to reap the same benefits from the potions as she seemed to, what with her magical blood and Galdoran lineage. He wasn’t even really sure what the elixirs did for her, but any time that Lance had brought them, she’d been excited. She’d been especially excited for this bottle — the one with the dark blue liquid. Shane recalled that the rest of the elixirs had always been red, or pink. He hoped that the one she’d just drank would perhaps provide some mood improvement.

Litha gave him a soft smile as she replaced the cork on the tincture bottle and set it down on the table. “Thank you, sweet boy.”

Shane returned her smile. He appreciated her willingness to pretend that he was useful, though she knew better. “What’s that one do, Li?”

Lance and Shane both watched Litha carefully as she averted her eyes, looking down at her fingers tangled in her lap. “I don’t know,” she mumbled.

Shane’s eyes went wide. “Why the hell would you drink something if you don’t know what it is?” He snatched the bottle off the table and began examining it for any sort of labels or markings.

Immediately, Litha became defensive. “Why would you bring me something to drink if you don’t know what it is?”

Shane glanced over at Lance, whose lips were pressed into a line. Shane sighed. “Just let one of us know if you’ve been poisoned, I guess.” He wasn’t really sure why he expected anything different from her.

Litha reclined back into the couch, her pink locks pooling on the cushions beside her. She loosed a long breath. “Mail came while you two were out and about.”

Shane saw Lance’s back straighten. “And?”

From beneath her blanket, Litha drew another fancy black envelope. The red wax seal remained intact, but the paper had been torn, as if it had been opened in a frenzied state. “And the summons still stands. I have until the 1st of Summer to return to Galdora and receive my punishment,” she said in a listless tone, her eyes squeezed shut.

Lance and Shane were both brought to an utter standstill, but finally, Lance said, “I won’t let you go alone, Litha.”

“I don’t think you should go at all,” Shane chimed in. They both looked at him like he was stupid. He didn’t mind.

“It isn’t up to either of you,” Litha snapped. “But there’s a fair chance that I won’t be coming back.”

Lance shot to his feet, assuming a wide stance. It was his turn to get looked at like he was stupid. “Which is precisely why I won’t let you go alone. I don’t trust the Galdorans — especially not with you.”

“If Lance is going, so am I,” Shane said, though neither of them seemed to hear him.

“Lance, there’s nothing you can do for me that I can’t do for myself,” Litha said. She looked at them both. “But — I’ll think about it.”

Lance nodded, well aware that he wouldn’t be able to chip away at that matter anymore tonight. Shane, on the other hand, had only just begun formulating.

***********

Shane was no stranger to loss. He’d come to learn of it when he was just a boy, after all — and once he had his first taste, it seemed to follow him everywhere he went. While he resented it, he’d also grown accustomed to it. In other words, Shane had become adaptable, even when he desperately wished he didn’t need to be.

It was Spring 20 when he finally devised a plan — his birthday. He didn’t really give a shit about his birthday, but he did give a shit about Litha’s ominous suggestion that she may never return from her trip to Galdora. Lance had been driving himself mad for days on end trying to convince her to let him tag along, but Shane had thought up a different approach — a decidedly more cowardly one. If she was going to leave him behind, he at least wanted her to leave with a good memory of him. Perhaps the only good memory he’d ever be able to give her.

It was around 8:00AM when Shane poked his head into the barn, where he found Litha perched on a little stool, awkwardly milking a very uncomfortable looking cow. “Hey, Li? Anything I can help with?” He asked gently.

Litha sighed, dragging the back of her hand over her sweaty forehead. “No, laddy. I’m just finishing up here.”

Shane sucked in a breath. All these months later, and she still made him nervous. “Oh, good. I was just wondering, uh — would you possibly wanna come see a Tunnelers game with me?”

Litha looked over her shoulder, her cheeks flushed pink from the heat. “Gridball, right?”

Shane rubbed the nape of his neck, trying to ignore the way that her cropped shirt and low cut jeans exposed the artfully curved small of her back. “Yeah. I got a couple tickets and I just — I wanna take your mind off things.”

Litha stood from her stool and patted the poor cow’s back. “In Zuzu City? I can’t warp there, you know.”

Shane chuckled. He might not have understood magic, but she didn’t understand public transit. “We’ll take the bus, Li. The game starts at noon, so we’ll have to go pretty soon.”

She crossed the floor until she reached him, standing on her toes to wrap her long arms around his neck in a tight hug. She smelled like sweat, and his thoughts spun as he inhaled against her skin. It was a smell far more intoxicating than wine, whisky, or beer.

“I’d love to go with you, Shane,” she said into his ear. “Give me half an hour to wash up.” Litha pressed a kiss against his lips, and without another word, she left him in the barn.

**********

Shane met Litha back at the cabin after wasting half an hour in the coop playing with the chickens. When he walked through the door, Litha was hunched over the table, writing a note on the back of a piece of junk mail — presumably for Lance, who was stationed on Ginger Island that day. At her feet, there was a duffel bag.

“Hey, you. About ready to go?” He asked just as Litha spun around, picking up the bag and throwing it over her shoulder. “What’s the bag for?”

She gave him a sly smile, breezing past him. Shane noted that she had changed into her favorite overalls, ripped to bits at the knees and cuffed at the ankles to show off her worn black boots. Her red scarf was knotted around her neck, and her hair was tied off in her usual pigtails. Though Litha could wear a trash bag and still look hot, Shane couldn’t help but think that she certainly didn’t look like a Galdoran princess. Or maybe she did — he didn’t really have any realm of comparison.

“I made us reservations at a hotel,” she said sweetly, dropping a kiss on his cheek as he took the bag from her and put it over his own shoulder. “I thought we’d go to dinner after the game, and then spend the night in the city. I haven't been back since I quit Joja.”

Shane was taken aback. “You packed for both of us?” Was all he could manage.

Litha giggled, and Shane’s heart fluttered. He’d missed seeing the light in her eyes. “Of course, sweet boy. You didn’t think I’d forgotten your birthday, did you? Let’s get going.”

Shane didn’t have it in him to tell her that his birthday was, easily, his least favorite day of the year.

*********

The stadium was fucking packed to the brim. Shane wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting, but definitely not such a mass turnout. Within seconds of entering the bustling stadium, Shane could feel Litha tensing up beside him. He took her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“What’s the matter?” He said under his breath, glancing at her sidelong as her eyes darted from place to place, wider than he’d ever seen them.

“Nothing, laddy. It’s just been awhile since I’ve been out and about,” she lied, giving him a fake, forced smile.

Shane knew social anxiety when he saw it. “If this is too much, we can go.” Though he’d been looking forward to this ever since he bought the tickets, it wasn’t worth her misery. “Just say the word.”

“I’m alright, Shane,” Litha said, gripping his hand tight. “Today is about you, not me.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. But I mean it — say the word and we’ll go.” Shane slung an arm around her as they walked through the damp, fluorescent lit corridor. “But in the meantime, I wanna give you the full experience.”

Litha looked up at him, her aqua eyes alight. “Please don’t tell me you’re wearing body paint underneath that shirt.”

Shane tipped his head back and laughed, and then looked down at his hideous neon blue and green Tunnelers jersey, which was slightly too small for him and stained from years of beer spills and pizza grease. He glanced over at Litha’s pale denim overalls and the perfectly white little tank top underneath them. “If you think I could paint legible letters on my own chest and back, you’re grossly overestimating me — but actually, I was going to say that you’re, like, really under-dressed, Li.”

Her mouth fell open. “I didnae know there was a dress code,” she whispered, looking around at all the other beer toting Tunnelers clad patrons.

“You didn’t ask,” he teased, just as he spotted a merch table off to the side. “Nothing we can’t fix, though.”

“Oh, blessed Yoba,” Litha muttered as she scanned the neon-fucked booth that Shane immediately began steering them toward. “Do your worst.”

Within ten minutes, Litha and Shane found their seats. Shane had chosen the ugliest shirt at the booth for her, which she’d put on atop her overalls. Shane himself, though already wearing the fanfare, took it a step further when he purchased a propeller hat. He’d also ordered each of them a comically large hotdog, which Litha was examining as if it might bite her.

“Why… is it called a hotdog?” She asked in horror, tearing a tiny piece off the bun and putting it into her mouth, as if to test the waters.

Shane snickered under his breath. “It’s not made of dog, if that’s what you’re asking,” he assured her before immediately backtracking. “Wait, well — it might be. Who fucking knows, honestly — it’s a mystery meat-log. Just try it.”

Litha shook her head slowly, closing her eyes tight as she hastily chomped down on said mystery meat-log. She glanced over at Shane, who was watching eagerly. “I… don’t hate this,” she said, sounding more surprised than anything.

Shane belted a full-bellied laugh as they settled into their seats, signing along obnoxiously with the fanfare as it crackled over the loudspeakers. Ever since he was a little boy, he’d always get the same butterflies in his belly right before a game. As Shane whooped and cheered and sloshed cheap beer out of his cup, he could tell out of the corner of his eye that Litha wasn’t paying a lick of attention to the pre-game theatrics, but was instead watching him. She had a smile on her face unlike any he’d ever seen, and it made it damn hard to keep his eyes on the field.

“What are you thinking so far, sweet cheeks? Your first gridball game, what a trip!” He bellowed over the cheering and music, nudging Litha’s shoulder with his own.

She flicked the propeller on his hat and laughed. “Did you just call me sweet cheeks?”

“Yeah. I guess I did!” He shouted back. “Don’t avoid my question — what do you think?”

“Noisy!” She yelled. “Makes me appreciate how peaceful it is back home.”

Home. It was the first time that Shane had ever heard her refer to Pelican Town as home. It melted his heart, but he tried to ignore it. “Oh, yeah? I guess that makes sense. Pelican Town is so fucking boring, but it has it charms. Peace and quiet never hurt anyone,” he affirmed.

Litha leaned into him, resting her face against his neck. “It has very few charms, but you’re certainly one of them. I wouldn’t have been able to work though the monotony had it not been for you, Shane.”

Shane felt his heart flutter, and he knew that it wasn’t because the team was taking the field. “Li, I’ve been meaning to say… thanks for sticking with me through everything,” He said through the lump in his throat. “The anxiety, depression… you know. You’ve been really good to me.”

She cozied up closer to him, and Shane knocked back the rest of his beer. He hadn’t planned on getting sentimental at a fucking gridball game, but hey, shit happens. “I’ve been no easier, sweet boy. Don’t thank me — I wouldn’t change a thing about you.”

Just as peace crept over him, he glanced back toward the field — and his heart leapt into his throat. He threw an arm around Litha and pulled her forward in her seat, wagging his free hand toward the field. “Look! The Tunnelers are on the attack!” Litha laughed at his side, and Shane liked to think that she was basking in his excitement as he cheered and yelled. Seconds later, Shane watched as the ball soared through the goal at the very last minute. “Fuck yeah, goal!” He cried, turning toward Litha and smacking a sloppy kiss against her lips as the crowd around them worked themselves into a deafening frenzy.

Her fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck as she deepened the kiss, disregarding the booze on his breath. She pulled away after a minute, but her awed eyes never left his. “I wish I could bottle your happiness,” she murmured, so quietly that he barely heard her.

For just the briefest of moments, as Shane watched his favorite players dance and celebrate out on the field while the woman he’d grown to be truly and purely in love with cuddled against his side, he realized that his life kind of felt like a movie.

********

“Well, that was definitely a good game. Oh, yeah… and we won, too,” Shane mused as he and Litha walked down the ambiently lit sidewalk off the main stretch of Downtown Zuzu. The sun was beginning to set as they left the stadium, and the streets were lit up like a carnival as patrons poured out of the narrow corridors and out into the balmy dusk.

He’d had a few too many beers, for sure — but as the two of them walked arm in arm, he’d really never felt so steady.

“It was a very good game,” Litha confirmed with a smile. “The hotel that I made our reservation at is just down the road here. I’d like to check in and change out of my neons before dinner,” she explained.

Shane nodded, pretending like his head wasn’t stuck in the clouds. The simple kindness hidden behind the fact that she’d made them dinner reservations wasn’t lost on Shane, because after all, food was somewhat of a frivolity for Litha. No one had ever really tried to make Shane feel special on his birthday — not since his mother passed, at least. He wasn’t sure what to do with the giddy feeling in his chest.

The hotel in question was far more ritzy than Shane imagined it to be. He wasn’t sure why he’d expected anything different from her, though. She’d probably grown up in a castle or some shit — it wasn’t unreasonable to think that she might want to stay somewhere fancy for a change, opposed to her modest little cabin in the valley. Shane was a little bewildered, but he didn’t question her.

Their room was near the top floor, and unsurprisingly, it was pretty fucking impressive — complete with a wide fire place, an inground hot tub in the center of the floor, and a king sized bed big enough for ten people with an unnecessary amount of fluffy white pillows and an ivory comforter than he didn’t trust his greasy fingers within a mile of.

Shane set the duffel bag on a table and sank into a chair as Litha walked over to the curtains, throwing them open to reveal a massive panoramic window. She leaned against it and sighed, the city lights below illuminating her profile artfully. “I hate this city, but it really is beautiful from up high.”

“It’s beautiful at ground level, too,” Shane supplied. “If you know where to look.”

Litha only smiled at him as she left the window, padding over to where he sat and unzipping the bag next to him. She took out a smaller bag and a bundle of black clothing before dropping a kiss on his forehead and heading toward the bathroom. “I packed you some clothes, too. Get dressed — but no rush. I’ll need about an hour.”

Shane lazily rifled through the bag. “An hour?” He called after her. “For what?”

She only smiled at him over her shoulder before disappearing through the darkened threshold.

**********

Shane procrastinated getting dressed, but eventually, he got up off his ass and dug through the bag for any article of clothing that looked like his own. He didn’t recognize a single thing inside it, save for his chicken print pajama pants. Surely she didn’t want him to wear his chicken pants to dinner? After a few more seconds of digging, Shane came across a familiar feeling material, which he gently lifted out of the folded pile. It was a suit jacket. A really fucking nice suit jacket. Shane’s mouth fell open as he unearthed a pair of slacks, a black tie, and a crisp as fuck white button down shirt.

Hastily, he put them on, surprised to find that not a single article of clothing was wrinkled. He chalked it up to magic just as the bathroom door swung open and his attention was drawn elsewhere.

Up until that point, Shane had never seen Litha in anything other than farmer clothes, save for the occasional casual dress or stringy bikini. He hadn’t realized what he'd been missing out on as Litha approached him slowly. He felt his knees wobble beneath him. She stopped just feet in front of him, and while his immediate instinct was to close the gap, he couldn’t stop fucking staring at her.

In place of her overalls that Shane loved so dearly was a short, skin tight black dress. The fabric was made of a very touchable, expensive looking velvet, softly reflecting the light as if it was created specifically to accentuate every curve of her body. The deep plunging neckline revealed the center of her chest, trailing down nearly to her belly button, and Shane couldn’t stop thinking about how badly he wanted to put his face there and never take it away. Her legs looked incredible — longer than usual thanks to the simple yet very uncomfortable looking black heels on her feet, and her pale pink hair was loose, falling in thick waves around her back and shoulders.

For once, Shane noted, Litha was wearing makeup. She almost didn’t look like herself, with her shimmering cheekbones, darkened eyes, and deep red lips. He almost wanted to forfeit dinner, if only to see how that shade of lipstick would look smeared up and down his cock. Fuck. It was only then that Shane realized his mouth was literally hanging open.

“You look immaculate, Shane,” Litha said as she closed the gap between them, slicking his overgrown hair back with her hands.

“You’re so fucking far out of my league,” was all Shane could manage as he savored the feeling of her fingers against his skin.

“You’re in a league entirely of your own, laddy,” she murmured, looking down at his untied tie and frowning. “You don’t like the tie?”

Just like that, Shane felt embarrassed. “I love it, Li. I just… don’t know how to tie it.”

“Oh,” she huffed, sounding relieved. “I’ll do it for you, then.” Within seconds, Litha’s slim fingers had woven a perfect knot around his neck. She smoothed the fabric down one last time, satisfied with her handiwork.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Shane asked.

“My mother taught me. My younger brother, Alden, needed help sometimes,” Litha explained.

Shane hadn’t realized that Litha had siblings at all, but he only nodded, doing his best not to pry. “Are you ready to go, then?”

Her red painted lips curved into a smile as she caught his eyes with her own. With her heels, they were the same height, and Shane found it to be optimal for staring at her like a weirdo.

**********

The restaurant Litha had chosen was easily the most high end establishment that Shane had ever stepped foot in. It was dark, they had a waterfall, and some white haired old man was playing a shiny black piano. Fancy. Fancy as fuck.

Shane and Litha were seated immediately, and as they walked through the maze of white clothed tables, Shane marked the way that everyone’s eyes gravitated toward Litha. Shane grabbed her hand — not in a jealous or possessive sort of way, but just because he was proud to be seen with her — proud to be loved by her. While Shane felt kind of grubby in contrast, he knew he cleaned up well enough. The suit she’d given him was somehow a perfect fit, and his overgrown hair actually looked kind of nice once she slicked it back. He’d shaved yesterday, but by now, there was a coating of stubble across his jaw. Litha said she liked the stubble once, so Shane usually let it stick around for a few days extra.

The table they were sat at was perfect — small and dimly lit in the most quiet corner of the sleek steakhouse, complete with a single long stemmed rose in a frosted glass vase. As soon as their waitress came, Shane ordered wine for the table.

“Your finest bottle,” Litha chimed playfully, giving the young waitress a broad, winning smile.

Shane chuckled as the girl scurried off. Not a breathing soul was immune to Litha’s charm, and she knew as much. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Li,” Shane said, leaning back in his seat and dragging a hand through his hair. “This whole trip has been a dream.”

“Not every day is your birthday, Shane,” she reminded him.

“How’d you pull all this together so fast, though?” He asked, looking around at their ideal corner of the restaurant and down at his perfectly fitted suit.

“I pulled it together weeks ago, actually. You just happened to get the gridball tickets, so it worked out better than I could have hoped. I love seeing you enjoy life, Shane. It brings me more joy than I can tell you,” Litha explained, reaching across the table for his hands.

As Shane gazed back at her lovely freckled face, he felt his heart twist and turn in his chest. Worst case scenario, he had eight days left with her, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to help her. And what’s worse — it was all his fault. Unexpectedly, he felt his eyes beginning to water.

“What’s wrong, my love?” Litha asked, panic lacing her stunning features.

He squeezed her hands tight, willing the tears not to spill over. “Stay with me, Litha — please,” was all he could manage.

Litha only watched him for a moment, her stare calculating and confused. “I have to go, Shane. I haven’t another choice,” she said quietly — remorsefully.

“I know — I know. But… be with me. Just be with me. I need you,” Shane struggled, aware of the words that his brain was trying to form, even as his tongue was unwilling.

“I don’t know what you mean, Shane. I’ll always be with you.”

Shane sucked in a shaky breath. “The thought of you spiriting away to Galdora without having tied myself to you in any tangible way makes me want to fucking puke,” he said, cursing the alcohol that lingered in his bloodstream which was undoubtedly making him sound like a fucking idiot.

Litha’s spine visibly stiffened. “Are you asking me to marry you, Shane?” She asked lowly, leaning slightly forward as her eyes narrowed.

“No — yes. What if I was?” Shane stammered, tugging at the expertly tied knot around his neck. Suddenly, it felt smothering, and the backs of his ears grew hot. What the fuck was he doing?

For a split second, he couldn’t read the look in Litha’s eyes — which was a rarity, as Shane had become somewhat of a scholar in terms of her expressions and mannerisms, as of late. “What if you were…” she mused to herself, staring off into space. “I’d tell you that you must be insane — but still, I’d say yes.”

Shane could feel his throat constricting. He wasn’t good enough for her — he wasn’t enough in general. “What about Lance?” He asked hesitantly. “Abby?”

Finally, Litha fixed her eyes back on Shane. They were bright and beautiful with unmistakable determination, and Shane felt relieved under their stare. “What about them?” Litha asked.

“Don’t you think they’ll be… mad?”

“Why ever would they be angry, Shane? Lance will be over the moon for us,” she insisted, running her thumb over the back of Shane’s hand in a way that made chills creep over his arms.

“You’re right,” he said after a long pause. “He will be.”

Litha grinned at him just as their waitress returned. She poured their wine into long stemmed glasses and took their orders quickly. Shane ordered a medium-well steak, but Litha ordered hers extra-rare. When their food finally came, Shane tried to ignore his squeamishness as she tore into the bloody slab of meat like an animal. Everything about her was at odds with herself, and every day, he found a new reason to be fascinated by her.

They returned to their lavish hotel room just after 11:00PM, once they’d had steak, dessert, and three bottles of wine between the two of them. Shane was wasted, but not as wasted as he thought he’d be — maybe the ancient fruit wine had really built his tolerance.

Before Shane could even lock the door behind them, Litha flopped down onto the bed, sprawled out on her back with her feet hanging over the edge. Shane removed his jacket and draped it over a chair back, loosening his tie as Litha watched him intently.

“What is it?” He asked her, approaching the bedside.

“You’re very handsome, you know?” She mused, granting him a sardonic smile.

Shane raked his eyes over her outstretched body, marveling over the dips of her waist and the plane of her belly. He wondered how she saw him — if she thought he was as beautiful as he thought she was.

With a pouted lip, Litha lifted her leg toward him, bouncing her foot in the air. She was so fucking cute when she was drunk. “Help,” she whined.

Shane wrapped a broad hand around her smooth calf, gliding his fingers up and down the length of her leg as he took her shoe off. He pressed a kiss against the pad of her foot before picking up the other leg.

“Ew,” she teased. “Feet are gross.”

He tugged her other shoe off and kissed that foot, too. “Not a goddamn thing about you is gross, Litha,” he said lowly, watching the inviting way that her legs fell away from one another and her dress pulled tight against her soft thighs.

Suddenly, she leaned forward, catching Shane’s loosened tie in her hand and wrapping it around. Quicker than Shane’s spinning head could process, she tugged him on top of her, and her mouth found his.

She tasted like iron and expensive wine, and Shane’s alcohol steeped brain lost track of itself. He couldn’t help it as he moaned into her mouth, ready to come undone at the mere taste of her lips. His kisses grew more feverish with each passing second, and by the time that his hand found her throat and her legs wrapped around his waist, he was ready to fucking combust.

“I want you to fuck me, Shane,” she said against his swollen, kiss ravaged lips. “I want you to fuck me like you love me.”

Shane felt that telltale tingle whisper along his spine, and he almost couldn’t contain himself. He pulled back from her, just long enough to look her over — admiring the way that her slim jaw fit perfectly in the dip between his thumb and forefinger. Her parted lips were flushed pink, and her bright eyes were wide and swimming with adoration. Shane loved Litha’s typical assertiveness, but he’d be lying if he said that seeing her at his mercy didn’t make his cock twitch in his pants.

“Show me how bad you want me, baby,” Shane said roughly, feeling bolder with each soft pant and stifled moan that left her throat.

A daring smile crept over Litha’s lips as she untangled one of her hands from Shane’s hair. She pivoted to shift some of his weight off of her, sliding her hand down the length of her smooth velvet dress. Shane could feel her fingers trailing down, down, down, between their mingled bodies before finally slipping under the hem of her dress. Litha kept her eyes on his the whole time, even as she brought her fingers up to his mouth and plunged them inside.

Shane was instantaneously overcome by her arousal, feeling her exquisite salty slickness coat his tongue as he sucked every last bit of it off of her finger tips. Even as his head spun, Shane pushed up off her far enough to yank the hem of her dress up around her waist. Her pussy was fully bare and all too fucking inviting, and as Shane fiddled drunkenly with his belt, he feared he’d never be able to unfasten it fast enough, until finally, it gave way.

Shane grabbed a fluffy pillow from the head of the bed and maneuvered it under the small of her back. He took one last moment to look her over while he dragged the head of his cock up and down her gloriously wet slit, watching the way that her hips jolted and her lips formed into a perfect O every time he grazed her clit.

“Shane, please,” she whined, giving him her most innocent eyes. “Please fuck me.”

Shane ran the palms of his hands down from her knees to the dip where her thighs met her hips, and he grabbed on for dear life as he buried himself inside her in one swift motion. They could fuck a million times and Shane would still never believe how flawlessly he fit inside of her.

Litha threw her head back and cried out, and the sight of her bare neck only made him want a taste — so as he fucked her, he hunched over her, wrapping an arm around her back as his lips found the column of her throat.

Shane could feel each muscle in his body standing to attention as his senses were acutely aware of every twitch and moan that shook through her. Her sharp nails carved out prayers in his back as he drilled her, and when he finally scooped her body up off the bed and propped her up in his lap, he could feel blood trickling out of the wounds she’d inflicted. Her figure was languid as he draped her body over his own, her chin resting on his shoulder at an angle that provided a perfect earshot of her ragged, blissful breaths.

Once Shane was finally nearing his end, his lap was soaked with the evidence of her release, and her muscles were so loose that, had she not been incoherently whispering ‘yes’ into his ear, he would have thought she’d lost consciousness.

“Fuck,” he growled. “I’m about to come, Litha.”

“Fill me,” she whispered softly, trailing her fingers gently through the bloodied wounds on his back.

That sensation alone was enough to send Shane right over the edge. Head totally devoid of thoughts, he emptied himself deep within her walls. “I’m going to buy you a ring,” he ground out senselessly. “Fuck, I’m going to buy you a goddamn ring.”

Shane could almost hear the smile on Litha’s lips as their bodies remained glued together. He would have been content to sit there for the rest of his life still inside of her, but as she yawned in his ear, he knew it was time to let go.

Chapter Text

For the first time since he’d ever stepped foot in Zuzu City, Shane didn’t want to leave. Their brief, fleeting bubble of escape had admittedly become something of a fairytale for him, which was unsurprising, considering that he seemed to so rarely get her to himself, lately.

The next morning, when the sun lit up the panoramic window and shone down on them like the heavens, Shane audibly groaned. He wasn’t ready to let go of the day — or the night — they’d shared. But soon, they’d check out of the posh hotel and board the grimey bus back to Pelican Town — back to reality — where Shane would have to finally come to grips with the fact that Litha Rosenhaal was leaving — and perhaps never coming back.

One week remained, and Shane had already made up his mind — before her departure, he’d marry her. Even if the only witnesses were the forest's dense trees and the sky’s cluttered stars, he’d find a way, within the next seven days, to make her his wife. Of that much, he was certain.

***********

When they returned to the cabin, Lance was sprawled out on the couch, shirtless with a wine bottle in hand and a slime covered sword at his feet. He was staring blankly ahead. Litha and Shane had been lost in one another since they left the restaurant the previous night, and for a long moment, they were none the wiser to Lance’s uncharacteristic stupor — but finally, Litha peeled her eyes away from Shane long enough to read the room. It was, apparently, Lance’s turn to wallow.

Litha dropped onto the floor next to Lance, cradling his chin gently with one hand. She studied him cautiously for a moment before she spoke. “What’s wrong, my love?” She asked in a hushed tone.

Shane remained silent near the door, honed in on the mostly empty bottle in Lance’s calloused hand. It was unlike Lance to drown his sorrows, and the realization hit Shane like a shit ton of bricks — Litha’s inevitable departure was taking a greater toll on the adventurer than anyone had realized. Lance had a tendency to bottle it all up, unlike his companions.

“We’re all doomed,” Lance said in a hauntingly monotone voice, so at odds with his typically inviting tenor. His eyes remained forward. “I hate that you’re both pretending like we aren’t.”

Litha sighed, dragging a hand across his stubbly cheek. “It’s not all bad, love,” she crooned, looking to Shane for confirmation.

Lance’s brow bunched. “I don’t know how you can say that, Litha. When you’re gone from us, only darkness will remain in your stead.”

Shane couldn’t even act like Lance was laying it on heavy — because it was true. Being void of Litha’s light was a cold, cold place — Shane knew from experience.

An all too familiar look of determination creased Litha’s features. “Shane and I are getting married, Lance,” she said softly, lacing her fingers through his.

Amidst the silence that enveloped the room, Shane was surprised to feel like someone had just punched him in the gut. No amount of good days could ever convince him that he was enough for her — enough for anyone, really. He hadn’t been enough for his mother, or his father. He hadn’t been enough for Dray or Annemarie. He knew in his heart that he sure as fuck wasn’t enough for Jas — he’d all but nailed his own coffin shut on that front. How the hell could he ever even imagine that he could be what Litha needed? Shane pitied anyone that was doomed to spend a lifetime tethered to him.

Lance glanced up at Shane from the corner of his eye, and then back over to Litha. Finally, he said, “So the two of you will depart for Galdora at this week’s end, I suppose?”

Shane was holding his breath. He hoped she’d say yes — but he also hoped she’d say no. Did his love for her trump his cowardice? He wasn’t sure.

“No,” Litha said moments later. “I thought you’d go with me, Lance.”

Shane could only watch as Lance’s posture straightened, and as the stupor evaporated from his body. He gripped the hilt of his sword. “Nothing would honor me more.”

Despite the bone deep feeling of betrayal that rang through Shane’s entirety — he was glad. His love couldn’t keep Litha safe — but maybe Lance’s could.

**********

Three days later, Shane found himself standing in the verdant, overgrown clearing in front of the ruins of Aurora Vineyard. He was wearing his nice suit — the one that Litha had gotten him for their night out on the town — and Litha herself stood before him in a long white gown, a pearly veil, and her hair swept away from her face in flower adorned braids. The smile on her face was soft, if not a bit sad — wistful. Shane’s heart ached at the sight of her, moreso now than it ever had before.

Shane had pictured them marrying at night, for whatever reason, but as the sun shone watery at early dawn, and the grass was still wet with dew, he decided that this was preferable. After all, he could see her in perfect clarity, this way. A spring breeze brought with it the smell of petrichor as it blew Shane’s hair over his forehead. Litha tucked it behind his ear and kissed his cheek, and for a moment, he couldn’t believe this was happening at all. The past year had been nothing if not cruel, but now, by some innate blessing of Yoba, Shane got to marry her — Litha — a cursed Galdoran princess with a penchant for chaos. If he was truly in over his head, it was far too late, now.

He looked around, one last time as the sunrise finally crested the horizon in a great sphere of pink and orange fire, casting a reddish light over the small affair like an imminent promise of spilled blood. It was the most quaint, casual wedding Shane had ever seen in his life, but he really wouldn’t have it any other way. The privacy made it all the more special to him — not to mention, easier to wrap his head around.

Their only witnesses were Lance and Marnie. Marnie had been adamantly against bringing Jas, and while Shane was annoyed by it, he didn’t have any fight left in him. Marnie had also insisted that if they were going to marry at all, they do so in a traditional manner, in town square, officiated by Mayor Lewis — but Litha and Shane didn’t care for the idea, so instead, they were in the woods, and their ceremony was officiated by Magnus Rasmodius, who Marnie was unwilling to accept the authority of. Nothing about their marriage was traditional, apart from the fact that Litha had gone out in the rain the previous day and purchased a Mermaid’s Pendant from the ghost of some dead mariner. The swirly blue pendant now rested snugly against Shane’s breastbone, where he’d decided it would stay for an eternity.

The conversation with Marnie hadn’t gone well — not by a longshot. The night of Shane’s birthday, after he and Litha had returned from the city, he’d taken a few generous shots of whisky, gathered up every ounce of courage in his body, and walked down to the ranch to tell his aunt about his impending nuptials.

He’d gone late enough to ensure that Jas was already in bed, because as intended, Shane was in quite a state once he finally reached the ranch. He stumbled through Marnie’s front door at 12:00AM. As his eyes adjusted to the candle light, Shane noticed his aunt, sitting at the kitchen table with papers sprawled out in front of her, her forehead resting in the palms of her hands. Upon closer inspection, Shane noticed that the papers were bills, and audits. The ranch was drowning — had been for years.

Marnie peeked up at him. “Shane, my boy! How are you?” She cried, a genuine smile lighting up her sad, weathered features. It had been… awhile — since Shane had been home. Due primarily to shame.

He smiled back, hoping that it didn’t look as hollow as it felt, and sat down across from her. As soon as she got a good look at him, the corners of that smile tugged down.

“I’m doing good, Marnie,” Shane lied. It was a half-truth, really. Who knew it was possible for someone to be so happy as they withered away? Litha and Lance had cut back on their alcohol consumption drastically — or at least in front of Shane. But no matter, it didn’t stop him from occupying his spare minutes the same way he always had — and lately, he’d been worse than ever.

“You’re drunk,” Marnie said, her tone plainly deadpan.

“I’m getting married,” Shane supplied, hoping to derail her.

Marnie pushed her glasses up her nose. “Well, that’s just about the silliest damn thing I’ve ever heard, son.”

Shane was surprised. Not by her disapproval, but by the lack of an outburst. “That doesn’t matter. I want you and Jas at the ceremony.”

Marnie squinted at him, as if his audacity was blinding. She scoffed. “Surely you don’t mean to make a spectacle of this nonsense in front of the whole town?”

“No, actually. We’ll have the ceremony in the woods — by the old vineyard. It’s special to us.”

Another scoff. “Lewis won’t come all the way out there, Shane. He has better things to do.”

“To hell with Lewis,” Shane bit out. “We didn’t plan on having him officiate, anyway.”

“So you’ll get married in the woods with no officiate? That isn’t a wedding, at all.”

Shane was growing frustrated. “We have an officiate. Litha’s friend Magnus — the wizard.”

The laughter that escaped Marnie was cold, and mocking. Shane had never heard such a sound from her. “He has no authority, Shane. If you’re going to do it at all, you may as well do it right.”

Shane sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “So you don’t want me to get married in the woods, but you also don’t want me to embarrass you by getting married in front of the town. What do you want from me, Marnie? One way or another, I’m getting married.”

“I want you to come home and stop this nonsense, Shane. I miss you. Jas misses you. We need you home.”

Shane shot out of his seat shakily. “I’m making a home for myself, Marnie,” he seethed, heading for the door. “Just come to the fucking ceremony and be happy for me. It’s in three days' time, at dawn.”

Marnie only watched him as he yanked the door open. Just before it closed behind him, he heard her say, “I’m not bringing Jas.”

Three days later, as Shane stood on the clearing, Marnie watched him like a fucking hawk. She wouldn’t even speak to Litha — wouldn’t so much as glance in her direction.

Suddenly, Magnus cleared his throat and smoothed his long purple beard. “Before we begin the ceremony, I’d like to thank my dear friend Litha and her beloved Shane for allowing me to be a part of this special day.” He turned his eyes on Litha. “Litha, when you first arrived in Pelican Town, I was unsure of you. This valley boasts an unseemly amount of monsters and maladies, but you, my dear girl, are not one of them. I wish you the utmost happiness in this endeavor, and I manifest that it will be a fruitful one.”

Litha nodded, her smile growing brighter by the second in light of the wizard’s surprisingly paternal speech. Shane, obviously, had never met Litha’s father — but had come to understand that he was an asshole. Shane knew the gravity that having an asshole for a father held over a person, and he felt for her. Right then, he was glad that someone who seemed to care for her in a sort of familial way had come in support. Marnie had come for him — though she was still angry. At least she’d shown up.

“It is my great honor on this 23rd day of Spring to unite Litha and Shane in the bonds of marriage. As the Wizard of Pelican Town and a loyal servant of the Ministry of Magic, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

As Magnus spoke, Shane could feel the backs of his ears heating up as tears welled over and slid down his cheeks. He could feel eyes on him — but he didn’t care. Marnie’s. Lance’s. But most importantly — Litha’s. He could see the trust behind those dazzling springs of blue, and the hope, as well. As he slipped the silver and aquamarine ring on Litha’s finger, he pleaded to Yoba with everything he had left that he wouldn’t disappoint her — that he wouldn’t let her down.

“You may kiss,” Magnus said finally.

Shane didn’t waste a fucking millisecond before taking her waist in his hands and pressing his lips against hers. It felt different this time — like a promise being fulfilled, rather than perpetually nearing the end of a tauntingly endless race. As Shane held her cheek in his hand, he pulled away to look at her, and right then, she looked more like a girl than she ever had before. Not like a succubus, or a banished princess, or a fearless, cunning warrior — but just a girl.

His wife. Shane’s wife.

************

After the ceremony, Litha, Shane, and Lance walked back up to SunnyVale at an unhurried pace, despite the sun that now hung high in the sky, and the increasing heat of an impending summer.

As they walked, Shane suddenly noticed that wildflowers were in bloom yet again, and to his surprise, the sight of the buds of yellow and pale purple stopped him dead in his tracks. Litha and Lance paused a few paces ahead.

“Shane?” Litha called. “What are you doing?”

Shane was speechless as he watched the spring breeze whisper through the flowers. Just a season ago, in the fathoms of the unforgiving dead of winter, Shane, unknowingly, had come out to these woods to die. Or maybe he had known it, intrinsically — somewhere buried deep, deep within his troubled consciousness. He hadn’t particularly wanted to die that day, but without a doubt, he hadn’t wanted to live — hadn’t wanted to waste his time or anyone else’s by taking another breath.

As he’d trudged through the deceptively calm looking snow that day, Shane had noted the lack of wildflowers, all dead and buried under the ice — and it had broken his heart. But now, as he watched them, he understood that perseverance wasn’t linear — not that of the yellow and pale purple buds, and not that of Shane, himself.

Litha would leave him. She’d take Lance, and disappear to Galdora — and Shane would wait for their return. He knew, without a doubt, that he’d never be faced with a more difficult thing than watching the two of them walk away — but, like a wildflower, his wilting would reliably give way to regrowth.

As Shane felt Litha’s fingers slide across the back of his neck, he noticed the tears dripping off of his face, because as he placed faith in the dancing little flowers, something had finally clicked. Something… pivotal.

“Why are you crying, my love?” Litha asked, her eyes swimming with worry as she wiped a tear from his cheek.

“It’s nothing, Li,” he lied. “I’m just so fucking happy.”

A sad smile tugged up at the corners of her lips as she took his hands in hers. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” she said, kissing his cheek. “I have a surprise for you back at the farm — a wedding gift.”

Just like that, Shane felt embarrassed. “I didn’t get you anything,” he mumbled.

“I don’t need anything, sweet boy. Everything I want is right here,” Litha promised.

He knew it wasn’t true, despite the fact that she did look happy. Litha wasn’t meant for a life so domestic — and nothing would ever change that about her. He crumpled up the realization and tucked it away safe in the back of his head, and without another word, he smiled at her.

***********

“Just a few steps further, laddy. Keep your eyes closed,” Litha insisted as she and Shane walked hand in hand, Lance following a few paces behind them.

“You’re driving me nuts, Li. You know I hate surprises,” Shane whined, throwing his head back dramatically as he walked blindly forward.

“Aye, Shane, we all know it,” she huffed. “But this one is special.”

“Is it a pony?” He asked sarcastically just as Litha stopped in her tracks and squeezed his hand.

“No, Shane, it isn’t a pony. Open your eyes, now.”

He blew out a long breath and opened his eyes, waiting impatiently for his pupils to constrict against the sun. Once his squinting subsided, he saw it — a barn. It was made of pale wood, with a rust colored roof, a large, circular window, and two stories. This barn was massive compared to the others on the farm — it almost looked like a house, though this piece of property didn’t actually seem to be connected to SunnyVale.

Shane was confused. “What — uh — what is it?” He struggled, doing his best to not sound ungrateful, though he wasn’t sure what, exactly, he wanted to sound grateful for.

Litha chuckled. “This, my sweet boy, is a commitment. To you — to your health,” she said cryptically, leaning her head against his shoulder. “I love you, Shane. I love you more than all the wonders in the valley, and all the stars in the sky. And now, for the first time since we’ve met, I’m making a mindful effort to be good for you — to be what you need. I’ve had Robin build this monstrosity, in which I’ll grow, keg, and cask all the ancient fruits. While this bit of property is technically still part of SunnyVale, it’s on the outskirts — not at all connected to the farm proper.”

Shane was rendered speechless as Lance approached behind him, laying a hand on Shane’s unoccupied shoulder. “I’ve promised Litha that I’ll help her tend to this portion of the farm work — so it’ll no longer require your attention, and it’ll no longer be on the farm. Or in the house, for that matter.”

“And, I’ve called that counselor out in Zuzu City. The one you missed your appointment with,” Litha said. “I made you a new appointment.”

The day of that appointment, Shane had crawled out of bed only to look in the mirror, hate everything about himself, and crawl right back in. He hadn’t been expecting the amount of dread that filled him at the mere thought of spilling his guts to some random fucking person whose only job was to tack a name onto his maladies and try to convince him that he wasn’t a scum of the earth loser. Shane hadn’t assumed that anyone had noticed his missing the appointment.

But now, as Litha and Lance, the two most beautiful people Shane had ever seen, stared at him expectantly, he was at a loss. “This is too much,” he said dimly, feeling a lump rise in his throat.

Litha shook her head and kissed his cheek. “Aye, Shane, it’s what you’re owed. Let us be good for you — let us make this commitment to your well-being. I’m ashamed of myself for sitting idly by while you slowly kill yourself — and I want to rectify it, if at all possible.”

For the third time that day, Shane cried — hard, heavy tears this time. As Lance and Litha both drew him into an embrace, all Shane could think about was his life, and where it had taken him. Dray and Annemarie had left him and their child alone, in the dead of night, without explanation. Better than anyone, they’d known of Shane’s fragility, yet still, they left him alone in all of it. And his mother — she’d loved him. He knew that she’d loved him, but never enough to put him first. Shane often wondered what would have become of him had Deena not run herself into the ground. And his father, who’d seen young Shane as little more than a parasite… he couldn’t even allow himself to finish the thought. Not while he was so surrounded by love, and caring — possibly for the first time in his grueling, pointless fucking life.

Shane, at long last, was home.

*************

Three more days passed them by. It was the 27th of Spring — one day prior to Lance and Litha’s departure.

Shane was miserable. He was miserable over the thought of them leaving, and he was miserable because he hadn’t had a drink since the morning of the wedding. Lance, a fucking angel on this goddamn planet, had gone out and purchased some fancy crystal elixirs for Shane’s condition, which helped with the shakes, but not with the dread.

As Shane lay face down on the couch, trying to pretend that he wasn’t wallowing in self pity, Litha sat down on the floor beside him. “I think you should move back to the ranch while Lance and I are gone, lad,” she said quietly, trailing her long fingers through his sweaty hair.

“No way in hell,” he grumbled in return. “Someone has to look over the farm while you’re gone.”

Litha sighed. “I just hate the thought of you being alone, Shane. Your mind takes you to dark places — I know it does.”

“I’ll be fine, Li. I have the animals to keep me company,” he insisted, peeking at her from the corner of his eye.

“Very well, then,” Litha resigned, though Shane recognized the look on her face as one of determination. He’d put money on her having something up her sleeve, but he didn’t have the energy to ask. “I have to finish preparing for our journey tomorrow.” With that, Litha was up and out the front door.

Some time later, maybe minutes or maybe hours, Lance came in. Shane hadn’t moved from his face down position on the couch. “You can’t stay here by yourself. You know that,” Lance said stiffly, apparently trying his best to seem authoritative.

“I’m 33 years old, Lance. I’m capable of being alone.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “If you think for a second that Litha is going to leave you here to fend for yourself, you really haven’t been paying attention. She won’t have it — and neither will I.”

Shane pushed himself up off the couch, dizzied by the sudden movement as he planted his feet on the ground and stood. “It really isn’t up to you,” Shane bit out, crossing his arms over his chest, pretending like he wasn’t about to lose his battle with gravity.

Lance crossed the room in the blink of an eye, and suddenly he was standing directly in front of Shane, cupping his chin in his hand. Lance wasn’t much taller than Shane, but Shane always felt small around him, anyway. Unexpectedly, Lance kissed him — long and hard before pulling away, but leaving his fingers on Shane’s jaw. “I don’t know how long Litha and I will be gone, Shane — but leaving you behind is hard for her. It’s hard for me, too. So please, for once in your life, give way to a bit of conformity and just let us have this.”

Shane sighed. “I really don’t know what the fuck either of you expect here. I can’t move back to the ranch — because someone has to tend the farm. Ian and Sean can’t do it — they’re too busy to be here every day.”

Lance grew more exasperated by the minute. “That’s fine, Shane, they don’t need to be here every day. But you don’t need to be here every day, either — I don’t see why you can’t just divide your time between here and the ranch. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing —”

To Lance’s probable dismay, his stellar lecture was cut off by the cabin door swinging open. Due only to what Shane assumed was muscle memory, Lance whirled around at the sudden sound, his body drawing into a defensive sort of posture. But of course, it was only Litha who had thrown the door open.

But to the surprise of Shane and Lance alike, Litha was toting a suitcase — and she was smiling. Both men knew well that Litha’s suitcase was already packed — as it was sitting upright and ready to go at the end of the couch.

Seconds later, when Abigail followed Litha through the door carrying another suitcase, it all began to click. Shane and Lance exchanged confused glances as both women set the suitcases on the ground beside the kitchen table.

Lance cleared his throat. It was an awkward sound. “Abigail — hello,” he began. “It’s been awhile. I was beginning to think they’d locked you in a dungeon somewhere.”

The aforementioned ‘they’ was Abby’s parents. Caroline and Pierre were endlessly overbearing, and in the small amount of time that Abby had spent at SunnyVale, they’d all gotten an earful of Abby’s disdain for her parents, and of her parents disdain for Litha.

Abby giggled as Litha threw an arm around her shoulders. “I would have had more fun in a dungeon than in the general store,” she said, craning her neck to kiss Litha on the cheek.

As per usual, Shane was feeling awkward, so the rusty, ill-fitting gears in his brain had come to a screeching halt. He took the opportunity to study the two women, marveling over their lovely contrast. In a way, Abigail and Litha could have passed for sisters — especially as Litha’s hair was down, concealing the telltale points of her ears.

While they were both pale and blue eyed, Litha’s build was that of a dancer in contrast to Abby’s, who stood several inches shorter, and had the curves of some ancient goddess — wide hips, lush thighs, and a soft looking belly. Like Litha’s, her hair hung loose around her shoulders, though it was slightly shorter, and the color of raw amethyst instead of pink.

Abby wore a short, tight, black cotton dress, with thin straps and a gray and green plaid flannel tied around her waist. Like Litha’s, her boots were cracked and worn.

“So, I found a solution to our little predicament, lads,” Litha said, dragging her fingers across the tops of Abby’s bare shoulders as she removed her arm from them and walked a few paces toward Shane and Lance.

Finally, Shane found words — but he was kind of scared to ask. “What predicament and what solution?”

Litha stopped just in front of him and crossed her arms, rolling her weight to one hip. “The predicament of you, my sweet boy, refusing to allow yourself some grace in my absence. Fortunately for us, Abby here was just itching for a grand escape, and I was able to provide her with the opportunity.”

Just then, Abby kicked her black boots off and padded over to the couch, where she flopped down onto the middle cushion and began watching Shane and Litha like a fucking soap opera. “I almost died of excitement when Litha asked me to come stay. I’ve always wanted to live in an old farmhouse. The creak of the floorboards, the slow plumes of dust whispering through the rafters… there’s just something so special about an old building, isn’t there?” Abby mused, her dark lashes fluttering as she took a visual inventory of the house.

“Um — yeah,” Shane stammered, looking to Litha and Lance for clarity. “No offense, but like — where are we gonna put her? It’s a small cabin, Li.”

Lance nodded slowly, as if he was trying to sort through it in his head — but still, he said nothing.

Litha shrugged. “I have Robin coming next week to do some expanding, but in the meantime, the couch is perfectly cozy, and there’s plenty of room in the bed.”

Shane’s jaw nearly hit the ground. She couldn’t be serious. He glanced down at Abby on the couch, whose sapphire eyes looked unabashedly eager. There was no denying that she was beautiful, with her long dark lashes, round lips, and high cheekbones — but she wasn’t Litha, and she wasn’t Lance, and that’s all Shane could think about.

“Li, can I talk to you on the porch?” Shane blurted as he felt his cheeks heat up.

A crease formed between Litha’s brows as she followed him out the front door.

“What are you playing at?” Shane demanded, scanning his wife’s eyes for any semblance of a clue.

“I’m not playing at anything, Shane. I simply saw an opportunity, and seized it. This is a solid arrangement, if you really think about it,” she insisted, far more casually than Shane was comfortable with.

“How, Litha? How could this possibly be ideal?” Shane was whisper-yelling. He knew that Lance and Abby could probably hear every word.

“Well, she’s brought with her a gaming console, a small television, an impressive tolerance for doting, more enthusiasm for farming than I have myself, and a great set of tits. What more do I need to say, Shane? She checks all the boxes,” Litha explained flippantly.

“So… you want me to play house with Abigail while you and Lance try not to get killed in Galdora?” Shane couldn’t believe it. Not for a second.

Litha shrugged. “You’re my husband now, Shane. I can’t stand the thought of you being lonely, but clearly, if left to your own devices, your choices in companionship are rather questionable. Myself and Olivia, for example.”

“So you’ve… picked me out a fuck buddy?” He implored, eyes wide at Litha’s brimming audacity.

“More or less,” she said, bracing her hands on either side of his jaw as she kissed his cheek. “I hope you have as much fun with her as I have, sweet boy. Once you get comfortable, I think this arrangement will suit you — but of course, you could always just… move back to the ranch instead.”

“Oh,” he said flatly. “So that’s what this is. A ploy.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a ploy, Shane. No one’s baiting you.”

He blew out a long breath. He wasn’t in the right mindset for this shit, and Lance’s crystal elixirs were calling his name. “Fine, fine. But I have a request.”

Litha smiled. It was deceptively sweet. “Anything for you, dear husband,” she purred.

“Tonight, I want the bed to ourselves. Just you and me.”

Litha’s eyes darkened, her gaze purely feline. “Done.”

Judging by the look on her face, Shane knew fully and well that she was planning on getting her guts rearranged — but in truth, he just wanted to fucking cuddle with her. Especially if it might be the last time he ever got to do so.

************

Shane couldn’t go back to the ranch — and it was more than just his pride keeping him. Come hell or high water, Shane was determined to make a home of SunnyVale. To plant his old roots in the rich soil and pray to Yoba for rain. He’d bloom, or he’d die trying. Even if he’d maybe never get his shit together, never stop comparing himself to Lance, and never raise children with Litha.

Granted — he missed the ranch. He missed Marnie, Jas, and the chickens. He missed his old creaky bed. He even missed Cindersap Forest, and the way that he’d sometimes venture deep into the woods, only to lie on his back at the cliffside and dangle his legs over the edge. He liked to imagine that the planet was a saucer, and that he was hanging over the brink — the only thing keeping him from falling into the cosmic soup was the force of his own will. His thoughts kept him up all night, though Litha slept soundly at his side with her face resting on his bare chest.

The next morning — the last day of Spring — she hopped out of bed and immediately handed Shane a pepper. Where had she been keeping it? She kissed him on the mouth, and without a single word, she was walking out the front door. The pepper was awesome — but like… what the fuck? And where was she going?

Moments later, Abby poked her sleep mussed purple head through the bedroom door. “Did Litha just… leave?” She asked.

Shane sat bolt upright in bed. “Where’s Lance?” He demanded. If the two of them had just up and left with only a pepper as a parting gift…

Abby shrugged. “He’s asleep on the floor, still.”

Shane sagged with relief. She hadn’t left for Galdora — not without Lance. “Great,” he grumbled, throwing himself out of bed.

Shane followed Abby back out to the living room, where both of them sat down on the couch. Lance was just waking up.

He looked up at Shane and Abby. “Where’s Litha?”

Shane and Abby shrugged in tandem, and Lance raked his fingers through his hair.

“Do you think she chickened out?” Abby asked.

Shane scoffed. “They could have threatened to roast her over hot coals and she still wouldn’t back down — so no, I don’t think she chickened out.”

“Though no one would blame her if she ran for the hills,” Lance remarked, hauling himself up off the ground and stretching his arms above his head.

From the corner of his eye, Shane caught the way that Abby’s eyes widened at the sight of Lance’s muscled belly. He looked down at his own stomach, round, protruding, and covered in dark hair. Shane crossed his arms over himself.

Suddenly, the air turned awkward. Shane and Lance were more than comfortable with one another, but the addition of Abby just… threw it all off. Seconds passed more slowly than the typical hour, and finally, Abby spoke up.

“Do you guys wanna play a game?” She asked, twirling a strand of hair around her finger.

“What kind of game?” Lance inquired skeptically.

“Uh — hold on,” Abby insisted, springing off the couch and hurrying over to where her suitcases sat in the kitchen. She dropped to her knees in front of the larger one, throwing it open and rifling through cases. “Junimo Kart? Journey of The Prairie King?” She called over her shoulder.

Shane’s interest was piqued. “What are you playing on?”

Abby flashed him a sly smile. “A Mega Station.” She began unloading games, a small television wrapped in a blanket, the console itself… and a small box that Shane recognized all too well.

“A Mega Station… hooked up to a Code Sultan XL?” Shane blurted, more surprised than anything. “So you’re a cheater?”

Abby broke out in laughter as a smile split Shane’s face. “It takes a cheater to know a cheater.” Maybe Litha was right. Maybe they’d get along, after all.

Lance looked confused — a rarity for him. “I’ve never played a video game,” he said quietly, almost as if he hoped they wouldn’t hear him.

Abby looked shocked. “That’s insane!” She insisted. “But in that case, we’ll start with Prairie King. Junimo Kart will make you want to throw yourself off a cliff.”

Lance only nodded. Shane could have sworn that he looked nervous.

**********

Lance, Shane, and Abigail were all huddled up on the couch, taking turns with the two controllers. Lance, surprisingly, had died fewer times than anyone. What the fuck wasn’t he good at?

By the time that the clock struck noon, it occurred to Shane that he hadn’t felt so relaxed in perhaps all his life — especially without any liquid buffers between him and reality. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d just sat around the house and enjoyed himself — entirely without urgency or pressing sexual tension. It was freeing in a way — if not maybe a little intimate.

Just as Abby and Lance were mashing buttons and jerking joysticks furiously in anticipation, the front door clicked open, and in walked Litha. Immediately, she looked surprised — but there was something else behind her expression that Shane couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Lance paused the game immediately, earning a groan from Abby. “Where did you go?” He asked, not bothering with formalities.

She smiled, but it wasn’t very convincing. “Just to tie up some loose ends.”

Though Lance didn’t seem sated by her answer, he chose to move past it. “We should get going soon.”

Just like that, as Litha nodded, Shane’s good day turned to ash.

Shane and Abby remained on the couch in total, eerie silence as Lance quickly changed clothes and Litha surveyed their luggage one last time. Each time Shane watched her make a mental check mark, his stomach descended further and further into the pits of hell. Up until now, he’d been pretending that they’d never truly leave — that somehow, fate would intervene, and save him from the inevitable. Shane was an idiot, because fate had never fucking intervened before.

As the four of them stepped out onto the porch, Shane looked across the horizon — across the expanses of SunnyVale Farm in all its hurried, yet meticulous glory. In only a year's time, Litha had turned the barren, hopeless shell of her grandfather’s farm into this verdant, sprawling operation, and even if she’d never bothered to be proud of herself, Shane had never been so impressed by another thing in his life.

Within mere seconds, it seemed, dark clouds had formed overhead, as if in warning — and as the sheets of mist clogged the sky like plumes of pale smoke, Shane could almost make out his own silhouette in the blurry distance, hiding behind a tree that first day he’d spotted her. Even if he was still a fucking coward, he felt lightyears away from that person he’d once been.

Only the feeling of Litha’s arms encircling his neck jolted him from his angst. “A piece of me will be with you, no matter how far I stray,” she murmured against his jaw.

Shane pressed his nose into her hair, inhaling deeply, as if it was the last time he’d ever be able to do so. “It’s all just pieces without you.”

“I love you, Shane. No matter what’s to come — I love you.”

Shane pulled away, only to take either side of her face in his hands. He studied her eyes, more thoroughly than he ever had before, working to store the fine details of each of the tiny freckles in her irises. “Just come home to me, Li,” was all he could manage, especially as a tear leaked from the corner of her eye.

Litha nodded, and Shane knew it to be a tight, controlled gesture, as if she was ready to come apart at the seams.

Shane smothered Lance with a tight bear hug and a deep kiss, and with one last little parting wave, the two of them climbed down the stairs and out into the cool, misty spring afternoon.

Shane watched carefully as his last means for coping walked away on two sets of legs. More so than ever before, Shane wished for the heavens above to strike him dead. Once their forms disappeared into the hazy atmosphere, Shane only kept watching. It wasn’t until he felt Abby’s hand against his bicep that he realized, without the shadow of a doubt, they’d really, truly, left him all alone.

As he was tugged gently back into the cabin, Shane was drowned by the sudden understanding that, just as he’d come to expect, the wildflowers had, once again, withered and died.

Chapter Text

There was nothing — not a single thing on this planet — more lovely than the summer sun. Nothing more giving, and nothing more kind.

When Marnie had been small, she liked to imagine that Summer existed for her, and only her — as if, every year like clockwork, the days grew longer and the air turned to warm honey just for little Marnie and her wide smile full of crooked teeth.

The tired old ranch that she now owned had once belonged to her parents, but even then, Marnie knew it was hers — especially once the warm weather ushered in, and she’d spend her days out in the barns, milking cows and learning how to steal eggs out from underneath the chickens just right, so as not to get her hand pecked off.

During the other three fourths of the year, Marnie and her younger sister Deena were shipped off to a boarding school — the finest (and most religious) that the Ferngill Republic had to offer, because, just as it remained, Pelican Town was entirely without a school. And though she missed the animals, and the ranch, and her parents — Marnie didn’t really mind school. She liked to learn, after all — but the same couldn’t be said for Deena.

Even as all the years passed her by, Marnie could still vividly remember the day that her younger sister had come into the world. She was born on the coldest night of that long Winter, and before the family had even taken her home, she’d already caused a row in the household — though it wasn’t her fault, of course. She was just a little newborn girl.

Marnie was only three years old at the time, but still, as her baby sister was placed gently into her waiting arms, Marnie was confused. She looked over at her mother in the hospital bed, tan skinned and sandy haired, and up at her red headed father. She grazed her small fingers through baby Deena’s thick, raven black hair, and then tugged at one of her own red curls as she studied the baby’s squishy, pink face carefully.

“This is our baby, daddy?” She asked sheepishly, peeking up at her father.

“She’s our baby, Marnie-moo — but you’ll always be my little girl,” he said tightly, planting a kiss atop Marnie’s head.

Marnie’s father was a jovial man, never without a smile on his face — yet Marnie could still remember the exact way he’d looked at her while her little three year old brain tried to piece together the apparent mystery of the black haired baby in her arms. Even then, she’d known he had his doubts.

Eventually, those doubts grew roots — and Deena, ever the brilliant little spitfire, caught on quickly. Though Marnie loved her sister, a small part of her still blamed Deena for their father’s untimely death. Since that frigid winter night of Deena’s birth, the man hadn’t known a moment of peace. Deena made sure of it, with every beat of her icy heart.

Truthfully, Marnie had always resented Deena, one way or another. When they were children, it was due to the way that their once buoyant father seemed to suffer, but as they got older, and Deena grew taller, slimmer, and more exotic looking, Marnie stayed the same — short, frumpy, red haired and weathered from the time she spent working the ranch. Deena never worked the ranch, so of course, she never looked like she worked the ranch.

Marnie’s discontent was ultimately fruitless. Though her father would hear her griefs and do his best to rectify them, Deena wouldn’t bend — especially not for him. And when Marnie had gone to her mother for the same reassurance that any teenage girl needs from her mother, she’d simply told Marnie to suck it up. She favored Deena, like that — felt as though her youngest daughter needed protecting.

It was Marnie’s senior year of high school when Deena met Michael. He was older than Marnie — maybe six or seven years older, and Marnie had known that he was a snake. She’d told her sister as much, but still, Deena was taken with him. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, really, because Marnie knew her sister well, and had grown ceaselessly familiar with Deena’s love for pretty things. Of course, she must have known all along that Michael was a snake, but with a jawline like that, what difference did it make?

“Whatever you do, Dee, just don’t move too fast,” Marnie had begged as the two sisters sat in the room they shared. Deena was getting ready for a date. A third date, to be exact.

At that point, Marnie had already graduated high school. She was 19, about to turn 20, and Deena was 16 — 17 that winter.

The scowl that Deena speared her with was still burned in Marnie’s mind over thirty years later. “Don’t lie, Marnie. You’d just be jealous.”

As Dee applied another layer of bright red lipstick that her older sister would never dare to try, Marnie watched her face in the mirror. She really was so very pretty, and because of that, many underestimated her, and the brilliant mind behind those dark, beautiful eyes. Marnie, however, was not one of those people — or at least, she liked to think she wasn’t.

That night, Deena never came back home. Though Marnie had asked her to be careful, she only meant that her sister shouldn’t have sex with her brand new boyfriend — she hadn’t considered the possibility that Deena would run away with him. She hadn’t even said goodbye, after all.

Years passed, and Deena was like a ghost. Marnie’s parents died, within a year of one another. Her father first, after suffering a massive stroke, followed by her mother, who contracted a lung infection during a particularly cold winter spent tending the ranch without her husband's help. Marnie did what she could to pick up his slack, but her stubborn mule of a mother had only doubled down.

Marnie watched her mother die at the end of that Winter, bundled up under blankets in her own bed, because somehow letting the infection fester was preferable to being hospitalized. Marnie could still remember the way that the room smelled as mother rotted away, so adamantly unaware of her impending end.

But just like that, Spring came, and the ranch was Marnie’s — in spirit, and also legally. It’s all she’d ever wanted, but at the end of each long day, she was so undeniably alone. The drafty old house was empty like a tomb — or maybe more like a memorial. Marnie was 26 now, and while the other women in town were getting married and having babies, Marnie was shoveling shit and hatching chickens. It was depressing, sure, but this was her life now. And though she was bitter from time to time, she wouldn’t change a thing about it. It’s not like any man would ever have the patience or willingness to accept whatever meager scraps of attention she had to offer him while she wasn’t tending to her life’s work, after all. She was wistful — but she wasn’t stupid.

It was a warm Summer night when Marnie almost killed her sister in the foyer of the family home. Marnie was out in the barn, and she was wrapping up her work for the night when she heard movement in the house proper. It was almost 11:00PM, and the doors had been locked for hours. Marnie picked up the old, rusty shotgun that had been collecting cobwebs in the corner. It had been put there by her father, and it hadn’t been touched since he died. She was fairly certain it was loaded, though.

Marnie crept through the kitchen as silently as her dirty, squeaking boots allowed, and once her eyes adjusted, she could make out a thin, dark figure on the ground, sitting with its back against the front door. She aimed the barrel of the gun and braced herself for the kickback.

“Hello?” Marnie called, giving the intruder one merciful chance to keep their life.

There was nothing.

Marnie inched closer, her finger trembling on the trigger. Could Marnie take a life? Or even injure someone? She’d cried once when she accidentally stepped on a barn cat's foot.

“Who’s there?” She croaked. “I’ve got a gun and I’m not afraid to use it!” Marnie lied, her voice shaking.

Finally, she spoke. “Marnie? It’s me. I’m sorry,” Deena sobbed, her voice cracking as she spoke.

Marnie lowered the gun immediately, setting it gently on the ground as she clicked on a sconce and waited for her eyes to adjust. Her mind was reeling — but it didn’t matter. Not as Deena materialized on the ground in front of her.

“Dee? Yoba be good, you scared the daylights out of me!” Marnie cried, dropping to her knees beside her younger sister and taking her face in her hands.

It was certainly Deena, but she didn’t… look like herself. Maybe it had just been awhile, but something was certainly off. Her once round face was now hollow, with a sharp chin and pointy cheekbones. Her cloud of long, spirally black curls lay flat, and oily. She looked as though she hadn’t slept in days.

Deena wouldn’t look at her sister. She kept her dark, teary eyes cast down. “Where are mama and dad?” She asked shakily. “I’m in trouble, Marnie. I need them.”

Marnie’s heart shattered. Six years. Six whole years. “Oh, honey…” she started, trailing off. “They’re dead, Dee. Daddy the year before last, and mama one year later.”

Finally, Deena looked at her sister, and the brilliance behind her once cunning eyes had been snuffed out. “W… what? You’ve been here all alone?”

Somehow, despite her thin face and unfamiliar eyes, Deena looked more like a child right then than she had that first time Marnie held her. Marnie didn’t care that it had been six years, or that her sister had left her alone in all of it — she lurched forward and wrapped her up in a hug, and before either of them had time to process it, the tears were flowing.

“Where did you go, Dee? And why?” Marnie sobbed, burying her face in her sister’s shoulder, smothered by the stench of cigarettes and body odor.

“I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, Marnie. It was Michael’s idea, and I just… I love him so much,” Deena stammered, her body slack and heaving in Marnie’s arms.

Marnie pulled back to look at her. “Well, what happened, then? I don’t understand.”

Slowly, Deena climbed off the ground. Marnie looked up at her as she lifted the hem of her shirt over her abdomen, revealing a protrusion from her belly that typically would have been completely unnoticeable — but Deena was skin and bone. She was wordless as she stared down at the little bump.

Marnie was immediately conflicted. She was overjoyed that her sister had been given such a blessing, but in such a state… could it really be a blessing, at all? “You’re pregnant?” Marnie asked softly.

Deena nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Michael doesn’t know. I was planning to tell him today, but I got scared and… I ran.”

“But… why?”

“I told him I couldn’t get pregnant,” she admitted.

“Why would you say that, Dee? Of course you can get pregnant,” Marnie implored, feeling her brows crease together as she prayed for the floor to swallow her whole.

“Because I thought it would make him happy!” She snapped, pressing her palms against her temples as she began pacing. “I thought it would make him love me more, if he thought I wasn’t such a risk.”

This was the version of Deena that Marnie had always known — sporadic, and hot tempered. Marnie couldn’t even begin to guess what maladies plagued her sister's brain, but she’d always resented the fact that her parents had never taken the girl to see a doctor, namely when the temper tantrums turned from sobbing into shouting and rampaging. She couldn’t take her eyes off that little bump — her niece or nephew. She couldn’t stop wondering if the child would inherit his or her mother’s temperament. What a handful that would be for Deena — a handful that Marnie knew full well her sister would never be equipped for.

“How can I help, Dee?” Marnie begged, still sitting on her knees in the middle of the foyer, as if she was at her sister's mercy.

Deena stopped pacing and pressed her back against the wall. She slammed her head against the pale, faded floral paper — hard enough to rattle the old pictures. “You can drive me to the clinic out in Zuzu City tomorrow morning.”

Marnie’s heart sank. She believed firmly that everyone deserved their own bodily autonomy, but when it was her sister carrying Marnie’s own flesh and blood… the lines began to blur. “Please, Dee — don’t,” she pleaded softly, her fists clenching at her sides.

Deena only shook her head. She removed her jacket and hung it on the coat rack, and without another word, she scurried off toward the bedroom that used to be hers.

************

Marnie lay awake all night, tossing and turning in her mother’s death bed as her selfish menace of a sister slept one wall over. Sadness turned to anger, and anger turned to resentment.

‘How could she?’ Marnie thought to herself as she stared up at the ceiling, watching the sagging fan spin idly overhead.

Marnie had lived her entire life for others. She’d been a ranch hand since she was old enough to walk. She’d been Deena’s keeper since Deena was old enough to walk. She’d been her mother’s keeper after Deena left and dad died, and once she’d inherited the ranch, she poured her heart and soul into it, tending to the animals with the knowledge that they were the only children she’d ever have.

For Deena to come home in the dead of night, carrying an innocent child bred of lies, and look her older sister right in the eyes and demand to be driven to a clinic the following day? Marnie was no pessimist, but she toyed with the idea of Deena existing just to spite her. Their sisterly love had only ever been a ruse on Deena’s behalf — she’d never loved a damn thing other than herself.

When the early morning sunshine finally began leaking through the thin curtains, Marnie heard her bedroom door click open. She was already awake — had been all night.

Deena stepped into the silver lit bedroom, and unlike the previous night, Marnie could finally see her. Even while enveloped in the oversized zip up jacket she wore, it was perfectly obvious that Deena was little more than a skeleton with her knobby, bowed knees and her long, spindly fingers. She’d never had much to her, but she’d looked healthy the last time Marnie had seen her.

“Why’d you start sleeping in here?” Deena asked flatly, as if offended.

“Because this is the master bedroom, Dee,” Marnie replied, throwing her legs off the side of the bed and rubbing her eyes hard.

Deena only scoffed. “And you’re the master, now?”

Marnie didn’t dignify it with a response. “I wish you’d just think all this through,” she said instead.

Deena crossed her arms over her chest. “All I’ve done is think about it, Marnie. That’s why I’m here. Do I look fit to care for a child?”

Marnie shook her head. “No. You don’t.”

Deena rolled her eyes. “Then let’s get going. I wanna get there before the protesters do.”

***********

Two hours later, Marnie was hovering over Deena’s shoulder as she filled out her paperwork in the dingy looking gray lobby situated somewhere within the hellscape that was Zuzu City. The place gave Marnie the creeps, namely because it was silent like a crypt, save for the scratching of her sister’s pen against a consent form.

Finally, she watched as her sister signed her name one last time, noticing the way that she drew the S in ‘Slater,’ longer and more elegantly than the rest of the shaky letters — as if it was a point of pride.

“You got married?” Marnie hissed as they sat down in two scarcely padded black metal chairs, which scraped obnoxiously against the floor.

“I told you that I love him,” Deena snapped, not even glancing in her sister’s direction as she repetitively clicked the stolen pen she held in her hand.

Marnie was at a loss. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said, desperate to not sound like she was begging, despite the fact that she undoubtedly was.

“I’ve made up my mind, Marnie — so just drop it. It’s not like I have any other options.”

“Is that what this is about, Dee? You think you don’t have options?” Marnie pivoted to face her sister. She snatched the pen from her hand and tossed it to the ground, clasping Deena’s fingers in her own so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “I will raise this baby, Dee. Stay with me until you’re ready to pop. I will drive you to the hospital, I will nurse you back to health after you’ve delivered, and when you’re ready to leave the nest again, I will keep the baby. Please, Deena — please. Don’t do this.”

For what was potentially the first time in Deena’s life, she looked… receptive. “You… want the baby?” She asked, her mouth hanging slightly agape.

“I want the baby, Dee,” Marnie affirmed. “I will raise him or her like my own. Please — I know you don’t want to do this. Just… just tell Michael you need some time to yourself, and stay at the ranch — with me.”

She nodded slowly, just as a nurse clad in pale purple scrubs came through the creaky double doors. “Deena Slater?” She called.

Deena sat in silence for just a split second, and Marnie could almost see the scenario playing out behind her wide, dark eyes as she weighed her options carefully.

“Deena Slater?” The nurse called again.

After another second, Deena squeezed Marnie’s fingers. “Let’s go home.”

***********

The following year, in the early hours of the 20th of Spring, Marnie drove Deena to the hospital in Grampleton in her beat up old truck. Grampleton was a big city, but not quite the sprawling, concrete metropolis that was Zuzu City. Still yet, the streets were clogged with cars, the air smelled artificial, and there was an eyesore of a Joja Co. factory puffing clouds of pale gray smoke into the hazy sky.

Deena had been cramping and crying all night, and though Marnie had been suggesting it was time to go to the hospital for the better part of twelve hours, Deena had insisted that she knew her body, and it wasn’t time yet. Marnie only pushed gently, because she knew that Deena was simply scared, and delaying the inevitable. But finally, once she could scarcely stand up straight anymore, she told her sister that her water had broken several hours ago, and she was now scared she’d waited too long.

It had been a rough three seasons — particularly the remainder of the warm days. Deena had always been impartial to the summer sun, unlike her sister, who drank it in like a sunflower. Marnie could hardly blame Deena for her discontentment — because, of course, Marnie had never grown a baby in her belly. She hadn’t a clue what it must have been like.

Deena was more neurotic than ever in light of her raging hormones, swollen body, and the fetus that she hadn’t wanted to carry to term in the first place, but fortunately, once Marnie had managed to usher her sister into the truck, they made it to the hospital just in the nick of time, once Deena’s wailing had risen to an octave so sharp, Marnie feared her eardrums would liquify in her head.

The hospital staff wheeled her back to a room immediately, and before they even finished transferring her to a bed, Deena was begging for drugs.

“Oh, sweetheart, you’re almost fully dilated. It’s far too late for that, now,” the young nurse replied a short time later once they finished checking her over.

Deena started screaming. The staff filling out the room panicked, but Marnie knew that it wasn’t a scream of anguish, but rather a scream of frustration — because despite her best efforts, Deena had no one to blame but herself.

From there on out, she only kept screaming. For another two hours, Marnie listened to her sister wail — but eventually, the screaming did become that of pain. Marnie held her hand tight as tears streamed down her face and her legs bucked against the stirrups. With every curse and moan, Marnie was well aware that her sister would hate her for this for the rest of their lives, but once the doctor held up the slimy, dark haired baby boy for the two sisters to see, she couldn’t have cared less what Deena thought about her. Her son — Marnie’s son.

The nurse laid the baby on Deena’s clammy chest, still covered in blood and amniotic fluid, and Deena cringed away. Marnie cut the cord, and after a few moments, the little boy was taken to be cleaned off. As the staff prepared his nursery cart, they asked for his name.

“Shane,” Marnie said immediately, namely because she’d been thinking about it for weeks now. “A gift from Yoba.”

Deena rolled her eyes, but didn’t protest.

**********

During the two days that Deena and the baby remained in the hospital, Marnie never left. She held him every chance she got. She sang to him, smoothed the thick black hair that looked so keenly similar to Deena’s, changed his diapers, and fed him from tiny bottles. There was a tectonic shift somewhere deep, deep within Marnie’s soul, from the first time that she held the squishy baby boy in her soft arms. Everything else had simply melted from her list of things that mattered the most in the world. It could all burn to the ground, as long as she had her boy. For the first time in a very long time, Marnie felt whole.

Directly before checkout time, a nurse poked her head through the door. “Mrs. Slater, you’ve got a visitor.”

Deena and Marnie exchanged glances as Marnie held baby Shane tight in her arms.

“Who?” Deena asked, shifting uncomfortably in bed. She’d been healing at a remarkably slow pace.

The nurse glanced behind her, and then back to Deena. “Um — your husband.”

Marnie could physically see the blood draining from Deena’s face as her fists clenched around the bedsheets. Without another word, in stepped Michael, wearing a cool, impassive face as his eyes drifted over to the baby — Marnie’s baby. He looked exactly as Marnie remembered. Fair skin that had never seen a day of honest work, cold, pale blue eyes, dark brown hair styled in a messy fashion, and of course, a sharp, squared jaw.

Before Marnie left the room, she placed Shane in Deena’s arms. She was a fool for it, but in just the split second she had to act, she figured that no man could hit a woman that was holding a baby — or at least, she hoped not.

She sat in the waiting room for twenty minutes before she saw it — Michael, pushing Deena in a wheelchair as she held Shane in her arms. They were heading for the exit. Marnie shot out of her seat and rushed down the hall after them.

“Dee! Where are you going?” She called, coming to a standstill as Michael whirled on her.

His icy, uncaring eyes raked over her, and just like that, Marnie felt small. “We’re going home,” he bit out, without an ounce of emotion in his bleak, monotone voice.

Marnie couldn’t move as he turned away from her and kept pushing the wheelchair down the hall. Deena didn’t so much as glance over her shoulder as she stole her sister's heart away, and once again, left her in the dust.

She felt her knees buckled beneath her, and Marnie crumpled to the ground. Seconds later, the tears started falling, and for eight long years, they didn’t stop.

************

After Michael took Deena and Shane, Marnie lost sight of herself. She lost sight of everything, really — because no matter how often she called, or wrote letters, or sent money — she didn’t hear a word. Not a thank you, nor a ‘go to hell.’ She would have been satisfied with either, if only to make sure they were still alive.

More so than even the years following the death of her parents, Marnie threw her whole self at the ranch and the farm that surrounded it. She worked harder than she ever had before, which wasn’t difficult to do, considering that the ranch was, in no way, a one woman job. Marnie was 33 years old by then, and she watched while the sleepy town around her blossomed with new life as people moved out to the country in favor of the city, and little businesses began popping up all through the valley. She watched as the babies of her friends grew into children, and her heart wept at the sight of any and all pale, dark haired children.

Since that day Marnie watched Michael and Deena steal her boy away from her, she began marking the end of each year at Spring 20, rather than Winter 28. After five Spring 20s had come and gone, Marnie stopped feeling at home in the valley. She stopped seeing the charm in the sprawling pines and bending rivers, and she stopped seeing her little boy in the faces of all the other little boys. She stopped taking pride in the ranch, and she stopped taking pride in herself.

It was on the same day that she decided to move to Grampleton, if only to torture herself, that she caught wind that the dilapidated ruins of the old farm just north of her ranch had, at long last, been purchased at auction. She’d once toyed with the idea of purchasing the land herself, but knew she’d never have the time nor help to tend to the plentiful acres. That same day, the man who had purchased it hiked his way down the beaten path, right up to Marnie’s front door.

Harlan Rosenhaal was an older man, about twenty or so years Marnie’s senior, but he was still handsome with his pale silvering blonde hair and tired green eyes. He was without a wife, but he did have a daughter, whose name was Meera. Marnie never asked where they were from, but there was something different about them — from the way they spoke and dressed, to the way that the world around them seemed to bend at their will. Not to mention that young Meera was just about the prettiest thing Marnie had ever seen, with hair like molten starlight, eyes of the palest jade, and a youthful, heart shaped face. Marnie guessed that she was right around Deena’s age — though probably a bit younger.

That first day Marnie had met them, she told them all about the valley, and its fruitful seasons, and the way that the rains seemed unpredictable. They’d discussed the villagers, and the blooming businesses, and Marnie had even suggested a few of the young men for Meera to pursue, to which she replied that she had her sights set much higher. Marnie had thought it strange, but Harlan only chuckled. Marnie thought that a lot of things about her new neighbors were strange, yet still, she came to think of them as friends.

Two more years passed, and things got better, thanks only to the arrival of the Rosenhaals. Marnie, obviously, hadn’t moved to Grampleton, which she later realized was entirely for the best. Though her life still felt like one big heavy, pointless burden, Marnie carried on.

On one particular autumn evening, Marnie was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch of the Rosenhaal farm, which they’d eventually dubbed SunnyVale, in light of the near constant rays of heavenly light that seemed to pour out of the sky and onto the peculiarly abundant soil of the land. Harlan had given the acres his all, and his hard work shone brightly in every nook and cranny that SunnyVale Farm had to offer.

The two of them were rocking idly and drinking fresh sweet tea as they peered out over the yellowing fields and grasses. A plentiful harvest of wheat was blowing gently in the wind, and Marnie noted how very alive it appeared, like fingers waving hello.

“You’ve made fast progress, friend,” she sighed, resting her head against the back of her seat as she glanced over in Harlan’s direction. For his age, and the fact that he kind of reminded Marnie of her father, Harlan was a beautiful man. Their relationship was entirely platonic, but Marnie had toyed with the idea of advancement.

“It’s all for Meera,” he replied instantaneously. “When I go, the farm is hers.”

Marnie nodded. “Haven’t seen much of the girl, lately,” she remarked.

Harlan chuckled. “She’s met a man, I think,” he said, crossing his hands behind his head. “She hasn’t come clean about it, but it’s about time. She’ll be 26 this Winter — it’s high time she finds someone to help her take over this old farm someday. She can’t do it all by herself.”

Only 26. Marnie hadn’t realized how young Meera truly was. Just a girl, really. “She’s excited to take over the farm?” Marnie asked, reigning in her suspicion as she remembered Meera once mentioning that her sights were set high.

“Oh, yes,” Harlan insisted, smiling wistfully. “She’ll make a wonderful farmer, someday.”

“She’s learned quite a lot from you, I’m sure,” she observed, draining the rest of her tea and pushing out of her seat. “I’d best head home now. Thank you for the company.”

Harlan bid Marnie goodbye as the sun began to dip below the sprawling golden horizon, changing the sky from blue to pink, and then purple. Marnie walked home with her face tilted toward the stars, grateful for the smooth dirt trail that led straight down to her ranch, as if it had been cleared especially for her.

Marnie threw open her front door and hung her coat on the rack. She rarely ever stopped moving for anything other than sleep while she was inside the farmhouse, because stillness gave way to silence, and silence gave way to the gut wrenching grief that Marnie fought tooth and nail to keep at bay. She simply didn’t have time for the nothingness.

Just as she was making her way toward the kitchen, she saw the red light of the answering machine blinking on her corded landline phone. That light used to send electricity through her veins in hopes of hearing Deena’s voice, but with time, that faded, too.

Marnie picked up the phone and dialed the number. A staticky, apathetic voice crackled over the speaker. ‘Marnie — it’s Michael. Your sister has been in an accident. If you can find the time, she’s at Grampleton Community Medical, in the ICU. If I were you, I’d come fast.’

Marnie didn’t even put the phone back on the receiver before she tore her jacket off the rack and grabbed her truck keys from the dish on the counter. All the way to Grampleton, she drove quickly enough to warrant jail time, yet when she arrived, Deena had already passed.

It was a sour feeling on Marnie’s tongue, like a bad aftertaste that just wouldn't buff out, no matter how much water you drink. She’d loved her sister — she’d loved Deena more than she’d ever let on, or ever admitted to anyone out loud. Ever since that first time she’d held the black haired baby carefully in her arms, it was love. But after time, Marnie learned that love and admiration weren’t mutually exclusive. While her heart was heavy yet simultaneously hollow over the snuffing out of the bright, wild burning flame that was Deena Slater, Marnie — shamefully — felt a sense of… resolve.

Michael was in the hospital waiting room, but there was no sign of little Shane anywhere. As her brother in law discussed with the staff where he’d like Deena’s body sent, all Marnie could think of was her nephew, and who he could possibly be with while his mother was dying in a hospital bed.

Once Michael was left alone, Marnie strode right up to him, wearing her hardest face. “What happened to my sister, Michael? And where’s that little boy?”

Michael didn’t look like he did last time Marnie had seen him. Eight years hadn’t been kind to him — not in the slightest. His once suave face, like Deena’s, had withered. There were bags under his ice colored eyes, premature wrinkles around his once full lips, and a five o’clock shadow dusting that jawline of his. Even his once thick, dark hair was now thinning quite noticeably. Michael was only 40 at the time, but to Marnie, he looked at least 55 — if not a bit older.

“Your fucking dirty, two timing baby sister finally got herself killed. And don’t worry about my boy, he’s at home — safe and sound,” Michael slurred, leaning in close enough that Marnie could smell the liquor on his foul breath.

“That baby is 8 years old, Michael! He can’t be left by himself!” Marnie cried, slamming a palm against his chest as he only kept leaning closer.

“Well, maybe if his whore mother hadn’t gone off for a joyride on the back of a motorcycle with some 21 year old piece of ass, he wouldn’t have been left there in the first place,” he seethed, tilting his head to the side, as if he was challenging her.

Deena. Deena, Deena, Deena. What had you gotten yourself into?

“He’s just a child, Michael. Whatever Deena did isn’t his fault!” She insisted. Marnie could feel the rage simmering beneath her skin, and she resented him for it — for making her worry for her nephew, rather than mourn her sister. She wagged a finger in his face, against her best judgment. “You best get your sodden self into my truck right this minute and show me the way to wherever it is you’re keeping that boy.”

Michael rolled his eyes and took the cigarette from behind his ear. “Well, come on, then.”

Maybe it was the knowledge that Michael could never finish raising the boy on his own, or maybe his usual sensibilities had been skewed by his stupor, but without another word, Michael showed Marnie to the small, rundown house the three of them had been living in.

When Michael threw the front door open, Marnie quickly noted that the house smelled… strange. Like old food, stale cigarettes, and general grime. He walked right past her, disappearing down the hall.

The dwelling was filthy, littered with piles of old cans and glass bottles, empty food packages, and plastic waste. The stained carpet was unvacuumed, everything was dusty, and several light fixtures appeared to have been shattered, leaving the living space dim.

Marnie didn’t care about any of that — not a single bit, save for the small boy sitting on the living room floor, his face less than a foot away from the television screen. She approached him cautiously, like a wild animal. She wasn’t sure what he’d been through, but she couldn’t imagine it was anything good — whether it had been at the hands of Michael, or her sister, she wasn’t sure.

As she got closer, she noticed bruises smattered across his upper arms and the back of his neck, varying in shades of purples, yellows, greens, and reds. The red ones looked new — same day kind of new. And his hair had been cut recently, by what Marnie could only assume was a pocket knife, judging by the jagged chunks missing and the unevenness of it all. What had she subjected this child to, by simply insisting that he be allowed to live?

She stepped on something — a plastic utensil, maybe — and the snapping sound startled him like a doe. He whirled around to face her, cowering as if it were instinctual.

The small boy dressed in dirty clothes looked so much like her sister that Marnie could have gagged — save for his pale blue eyes, which held no fear, but rather… indifference.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice small and subservient.

She knelt down beside him, keeping a safe distance. “I’m your Aunt Marnie, sweetheart. Your mama’s sister.”

Shane didn’t say a word. He only looked down at his little hands, which were balled into fists in his lap. Marnie couldn’t stop noticing how skinny he was. She paled to think that her sister hadn’t been feeding the poor boy, and then she considered that he perhaps didn’t even know that his mother had died. She wondered how he would take it, if he hadn’t taken it already.

“Are you hungry, Shane?” She asked hesitantly, resisting the urge to pull him in for a hug.

He nodded slowly, and when Marnie stood, he flinched. She took a purposeful step back, keeping her hands slack at her sides.

“Will you let your old Aunt Marnie take you out for a bite to eat, my dear boy?”

He only stayed silent, and kept his eyes on his lap.

Marnie was determined to feed the little boy — her little boy. No matter how long it had been, he was still hers. “Anything you want, Shane. We can get cheeseburgers, or chicken, or…” Marnie trailed off. What did kids eat? “Maybe a pizza?”

Finally, he lifted his eyes from his lap. “Pizza?”

She could have literally wept with relief. “Do you like pizza, Shane?”

To her surprise, he stood up off the ground and took a hesitant step closer. “Yes, Aunt Marnie, I like pizza.”

Blessed Yoba, the boy likes pizza. She reached for his hand. “Well, let’s get going, then.”

He grabbed her hand, and Marnie melted inside. It felt like she’d finally come home. She led him out to the truck, trudging through the overgrown grass as the sounds of the late night city traffic bustled in the distance. How could a child ever learn to be a child in such a city?

Marnie stopped at the first little pizza parlor she saw, eager to get some food in his belly. He was quite small for an eight year old boy — had she not known any better, she would have guessed he was five or six.

When she parked the truck, she started to climb out, but then she realized that she couldn’t very well… take Shane inside — not considering the state he was in, all filthy, bruised, and bony. She settled on the drive-thru instead, ordering a large pepperoni pizza and two Joja Colas to go, which she and her nephew ate in the parked truck.

For his small stature, little Shane ate like a grown man.

“Slow down, little boy, you’ll make yourself sick,” Marnie warned the greasy faced child that sat in her passenger seat.

“Mommy doesn’t let me have pizza,” he remarked, not at all heeding her warning. She couldn’t quite be mad — because knowing Deena, Shane had likely never adhered to a rule in all of his life. “Do you think she’ll be mad?”

There it was — he didn’t know.

“Shane, love, can you stop eating for a moment? Please?” Marnie pleaded, wearing her softness like armor as she sent up a silent prayer.

Hesitantly, Shane lowered the piece of crust he’d been nibbling on, and fixed his large blue eyes on his aunt. Though they were the same exact color as Michael’s, they lacked that cold, icy nature. If anything, they were only sad, and solemn — telling tales of the horrors small Shane had already endured in his short eight years on the planet.

“Can I hold your hand, Shane?” She asked softly, offering him an open palm.

He nodded, placing his greasy fingers in her hand.

Marnie squeezed his hand gently. “Your mommy was too good for this world, Shane,” she lied. Realistically, she held mostly disdain for her sister, but for the little boy that so clearly adored her, Marnie was willing to bend the truth. “She had to go home.”

There was something wise about the dirty child who stared at Marnie from beneath dark lashes. Maybe it was only the knowledge of all he’d endured, but something about the way he watched her assured Marnie that Shane understood. “She wouldn’t go home without me, Aunt Marnie,” he said quietly before rattling Marnie to the core by crawling into her arms. “I’m not mad at her for leaving, but I wish she said goodbye, first.”

How was Marnie meant to carry on after this? How was she meant to drive this sweet, broken child back to that filthy hellhole she’d found him in? How could she ever go about her life in the valley knowing that little Shane was here, in Grampleton, being forced to endure? She couldn’t.

“How would you like to come and stay with me for a little while, Shane?” She asked, wrapping her arms around him tight.

She felt him nod against her chest. “Are there other kids where you live?”

Marnie couldn’t help but smile, despite her breaking heart. Such simple desires, this one. “Yes, sweetheart. There are lots of other kids.”

***********

Reluctantly, Marnie drove back to Michael’s house — slowly. She had half a mind to just take Shane home with her and never look back, but she knew that she wouldn’t be any help to him if she was behind bars for kidnapping.

When they returned, hand in hand, Michael was sitting in a ratty looking stained beige recliner with his foot propped up on the sticky looking glass coffee table and a beer in his hand. He was watching a gridball game on the small box television, the white and blue lights flickering softly against his silhouette.

He looked up at them, and gave Marnie a taunting smile. “You think you can just take my fucking kid and go, Marnie? Huh?”

Marnie felt Shane begin to tremble at her side. She coaxed him behind her as she mustered up all of her courage. “You’re lucky I don’t call the police, Michael. Just look at this boy, all bruised up and dirty — and what have you done to his hair?”

Michael laughed — it was a dry, empty sort of sound that made Marnie’s skin crawl off. How had her sister loved a man like this? “You wanna call the cops because I cut the boy's hair? He was starting to look like a damn sissy with the way fucking Deena always wanted to keep it so long. I fixed him right up. Didn’t I, boy?”

Marnie hated everything about him — from the sarcastic grin tugging at his lips, to the way that he spoke about her sister. But most notably, the way that he taunted Shane — like he was enjoying every second of it, asserting dominance over an eight year old boy.

“You are a small, pathetic little man, Michael Slater. Someday, you’ll die alone — and the world will be a better place because of it. Now you listen to me — I’m taking this boy home with me. Tonight.” Marnie had forced every ounce of gusto in her pacifist heart into the declaration. With everything in her, she hoped he bought it.

Once again, he snorted a horrible laugh. “There’s not a chance in hell, Marnie. You’re not taking my fucking son. And you go ahead — call the cops. Deena did a million times, and look where it got her.” It was easy for Marnie to forget that Michael was a lawyer for the scum of the Ferngill Republic, but at times like this, she was railroaded by it. He was right.

“Does this make you feel good? Seeing him trembling like this? You feel like a big man, Michael?” Marnie demanded, wagging a finger at him as she kept Shane pressed safely against her leg. “He’s not like you, or Deena. He’s a sweet boy — he needs to feel safe.”

“It’s good for him — toughens him up a bit,” Michael said flippantly, waving a hand as if child abuse was as natural as breathing. “I don’t want a damn sweet boy.”

“He doesn’t need to be tough. He needs peace,” she sighed, dragging a hand through her wiry red hair. “Even at the lowest baselines, Michael, I know you can’t do this alone. Children are a lot of work — so at least let me help you,” Marnie coaxed, as if she was trying to convince a bear not to maul her. “Give me two seasons a year with him.”

Michael watched her carefully — sizing her up like prey. Marnie was a fool to negotiate with a lawyer — even if the lawyer in question was a sodden drunk. “One week.”

“One season,” she countered.

“Half a season. The end of Winter. Take it or leave it.”

She couldn’t quite believe that he was willing to haggle in regards to his son’s life, but as she glared at his stony, uncaring face, she decided it was the most believable thing in the world. “Fine,” she resigned. “But tonight, I’m taking him home. It’s almost Winter — just let me have him for this one season. I’ll drive him home, bright and early Spring 1.”

“Fine, but don’t bring him back a pansy,” Michael slurred, fixing his eyes back on the television.

It was all Marnie needed to scoop Shane into her arms and carry him out the door.

***********

That first Winter was like a dream.

Marnie had brought Shane home that night, and for the first time since her parents had passed, the ranch felt like home. Marnie was quick to realize that home wasn’t a place, but rather, a person. Her little boy.

When they’d returned to the ranch at nearly 3:00AM, Marnie bathed him, dressed him in one of her old t-shirts, threw his tattered clothes in the wash, and put him to sleep in her bed. She paced the farmhouse for the better part of an hour before sleep came to drag her down, and she crawled in bed next to him.

The next morning, Harlan came down from SunnyVale and helped Marnie clear out the old storage room off the kitchen. She hadn’t gone in that room in well over five years, but upon cleaning and organizing, she found a plethora of photos of Deena — back when she’d looked like herself. She tucked them away safely for Shane to have once he was older, and she kept on cleaning.

Once all the old boxes had been transferred to a shed behind the farmhouse, Marnie loaded Shane up in the truck, and they headed back over to Grampleton — to the nearest furniture store — where Marnie bought Shane a bed. Not a child’s bed, but a regular twin sized bed.

“Something you can grow into,” she promised.

After the furniture store, they went to an outlet mall, where she let Shane pick out clothes, toys, books, and sheets and blankets for his new bed. Lastly, they stopped at an old timey barber shop, where a nice man with a mustache gave a very hesitant Shane his first proper haircut. He’d mentioned that he missed his long hair, and Marnie assured him that it would grow back. It was the best she could do.

Once they were headed back to Pelican Town, Marnie had spent well over 1,000g, but she couldn’t have cared less. The smile on his well rested face was wide and genuine, and it made her heart sing like nothing ever had before. More than anything in this whole wretched world, Marnie only wanted him to feel safe, and loved.

Though he’d moved into his own bedroom with great pride, the nights would still come when her troubled little boy would be plagued with horrific nightmares. She’d always leave her door open just a crack, so he never thought he was unwelcome when he’d sneak into her room and crawl in bed next to her. On top of it all, she figured that the creaky old farmhouse was far bigger than Shane had ever been used to, and sometimes, it was perhaps scary for him. He was a brave little thing, but still, she worked hard to keep his peace.

Along with Marnie’s chickens that he loved so dearly, Shane grew close with one particular child in Pelican Town — little Emily with her quirky sensibilities and her pretty, snarky sister. Before the girls’ parents had up and gone away, Shane spent long days at their house, participating gladly in tea parties, and learning how to be a child in general. Marnie never minded the time he spent away from her, as long as she knew he was safe, in Pelican Town, where he belonged.

But eventually, the years began to pass, and her boy began to grow. Every year, on Winter 15, Marnie would drive up to Grampleton bright and early, and without fail, her Shane would be waiting on the curb, bags packed with an eager smile on his precious face. Marnie bought an old Polaroid camera and kept the pictures like a hoarder — she never wanted to forget that smile. Each year, he looked more and more like his mother, but with time, Marnie began to see traces of his father, too — in more than just his appearance.

She couldn’t really recall when, exactly, she’d noticed the change — but maybe around the ages of 10 or 11, she marked the way that he’d… darkened. She never had the guts to ask him why, exactly — but it was there, plain as day. He was still her little boy — still with his warm smiles, tight hugs, and heart of gold — but now, he was angry.

She didn’t blame him for being angry — he had every right to be. Marnie knew a great deal of adults that had suffered less than her boy — but still, it broke her heart to watch him process his long buried grief as he eventually grew taller, and sharper, with lean muscles, a jawline like his father’s, and more rage than he could ever hope to contain in his sweet, sweet heart.

It was as if Marnie blinked, and her little boy was no longer a little boy.

**************

From the ages of 8 to 18, Shane spent half of each winter at Marnie’s ranch, helping with the animals, tending the farm lands, and even befriending old man Rosenhaal, because ever since Meera had left without return, Harlan had been lonely, and therefore enjoyed his time with Marnie and her pseudo-son.

When Shane went off to college, it was like a tie had been severed. Marnie was proud of him for making something of himself — doing his best to grow roots — but more than anything, she worried for him. Shane was a special boy, with a soft, angel heart encased within a muscle-y exterior of stone and snark. To know him was to love him — and though the ‘knowing’ part didn’t come easy, Marnie knew that, when it did, the fall would be hard, and brutal. Her boy was a glutton for love, after all — without the knowledge of what a healthy love should look like.

The Summer 1 following Shane’s last Winter in the valley, a little girl had arrived on the doorstep of SunnyVale Farm while Marnie and Harlan sat inside, canning jams and vegetables in large mason jars.

Marnie had opened the door to find the small girl standing straight backed and ferocious, with a look on her pretty little face that assured Marnie she’d never been scared of a thing in all her life. Her long, pearly pink hair was pulled into high pigtails, and her striking blueish green eyes were narrowed, as if in challenge — an uncanny resemblance to young Meera.

The pointy eared child held a fancy black envelope, stamped with a red wax A — though Marnie didn’t need to open the envelope to know who the girl was. She could spot a Rosenhaal from 10 miles away — such angelic faces in such ordinary places.

“My, my, aren’t you a pretty thing,” Marnie simpered. “Where are your parents, love?” She asked, just as Harlan approached behind her.

The child extended the envelope toward them, and Marnie stepped aside as Harlan reached for it, watching as his calloused fingers opened it carefully.

For a moment, he only stared at the paper, but after a few seconds, his eyes raised to the small girl waiting patiently in the threshold.

“Meera…” he whispered. “You’re Meera’s —”

“Hello, grandfather. My name is Litha,” she said finally, her voice sounding more mature than Marnie had expected.

Harlan, without hesitation, enveloped her with a hug, as if his vanished daughter had finally come home to him.

***********

For the next five years that followed, little Litha showed up on Harlan’s doorstep on Summer 1 like a phantom, always with an envelope in her hands that Harlan would never let Marnie even glance at. And for each of those five years that passed, Marnie hadn’t heard a word from Shane.

Darling little Litha was, without a doubt, a firecracker of a child. So much so that Harlan struggled to keep up with her. Litha reminded Marnie of Deena in a lot of ways, namely because of her stubbornness and her steel will, but also because the tiny pink haired beast never really took to any of the other children in town. Just like Marnie’s baby sister, Litha was a brilliant little black sheep. Before Marnie had known better, she found Litha to be endlessly charming. But of course, at the time, she was only a child.

After that fifth Summer — the Summer of Litha’s 13th birthday — Harlan Rosenhaal died peacefully in his sleep the following Fall, and for Marnie, it had all once again dissolved to nothingness.

It would be another five years before Marnie saw Shane again, and five years following that before Litha would return to lay claim over her grandfather’s land — rather than Meera, who the farm had been intended for in the first place. Marnie always figured that, just as Meera promised, she had her sights set higher. Perhaps higher than any of them had guessed.

The night that Shane had finally come home to her, Marnie was in a dark, dark place. It was Winter 15, and on that particular day of each year, Marnie reserved the right not to function. She didn’t tend the ranch, she didn’t answer the phone, she didn’t run her shop — she only stayed in bed, and ate pizza.

It was late — just past midnight when she heard a frantic, heavy pounding on the door. Typically, Marnie would have grabbed the gun, knowing well that she’d never have the guts to fire it. It was a useful prop, anyway — but still, she left it in the corner, still just as dusty as it had been the night she’d found Deena in the same foyer. She didn’t pick it up, because she didn’t really care if some potential intruder had come to kill her. Maybe it was only the family curse coming to fruition, but nothing really mattered anymore.

Nothing — until she yanked the door open, and saw her little boy standing there on her doorstep, as if sent directly from the heavens. But her Shane was certainly no little boy anymore — not by a long shot, considering the heavy bags under his eyes, the stench of whisky permeating his skin, and the small child balanced on his hip. Snowflakes clung to his dark hair, and there were stains on his tattered blue jacket. His eyes were bloodshot, and Marnie couldn’t tell if he’d been crying, or if he’d simply had a long night. There was a duffel bag over his shoulder, and she hoped it meant he’d finally come home to stay.

He was at least a few inches taller than her now, but just as she always had, she threw her arms around him like he was a child. She ushered him inside without wasting another second, and pretended not to notice the way his broadened shoulders filled out the foyer, so at odds with the once undergrown, timid boy she remembered so well.

She nodded toward the cowering child in Shane’s arms, who was clinging to his neck for dear life. The little girl didn’t really look like him, apart from the dark hair — but maybe that was only Marnie, hoping that he hadn’t gone off and gotten some girl pregnant. “Who’s this?” She asked softly.

Shane cleared his throat, and Marnie braced herself for the sound of his voice. “This is Jas — my daughter,” he said, his voice firm, and insistent.

Marnie was nearly speechless as she tried to master the breath in her chest. “Your — daughter? Shane, I… I wish you would have told me. I wish you would have called.”

He set her down on the couch and unfolded a blanket to drape over her. “Aunt Marnie and I need to talk, bug,” he said gently, smoothing her frizzy black hair. “Can you stay here and keep warm while I go find you something to eat?”

Jas nodded, glancing nervously between Marnie and her father. Marnie gave her a sad smile before she and Shane took to the kitchen, where he began rummaging through the fridge, as if he’d never left. Marnie sat down at the table.

“Biologically, she’s not…. She’s not —” as Shane began cracking eggs into a bowl, Marnie could tell that, not only was he drunk — he was also nervous. The child wasn’t his, but he hated to say it aloud. Marnie knew the feeling all too well.

She nodded. “I understand, Shane.”

He sighed a deep, shaky breath as he emptied the beaten eggs into a hot cast iron pan. “In all the ways that matter, she’s mine.”

“But how did you come to… acquire her, son?” Marnie struggled, treading lightly.

Shane scoffed. It was a cold sound — a disheartening mixture of his erratic mother and hollow, unfeeling father. Marnie’s heart was splitting apart, but still, she kept it reigned in. For him.

“Her parents and I were… close. They named me her godfather, and then they vanished. Legally, she’s mine — I’ve been in her life since the day she was born, just as much as them.”

Marnie couldn’t help but notice how defensive he sounded, as if he thought she’d judge him. “That’s just fine, Shane. You’ll make a fine father.”

Another scoff. “She’s an angel, Marnie. The sweetest damn kid on this planet — and she’s stuck with me.”

“Well, what’s wrong with that, Shane? She’s lucky to have you,” Marnie insisted, trying to ignore the way that he’d forgone her ‘aunt’ title for the first time since she’d come into his life.

He emptied the overcooked scrambled eggs into a bowl and then braced his hands on the counter. “These past few years have been… rough.”

Marnie was willing to bet that ‘rough’ was an understatement, judging by the rigid aura that hung around him. “Do you think you’ll stay awhile?”

“Just a few weeks, if you’ll have us,” he said tightly, stumbling as he kicked his shoes off in the foyer. “They have a Joja Mart here, and I can just transfer. I’ve been working at a factory, out in Zuzu City.”

Marnie only watched as he disappeared into the living room, bowl of eggs in hand. He could barely stand up straight, yet for the girl he’d been toting on his hip, he was trying his best. “You can stay as long as you’d like, Shane,” she said as he returned to the kitchen and sat down in a chair across from her. “But will you just… tell me what happened, son?”

Shane dragged a hand through his oily hair, settling into his seat as he shrugged his coat off. The red was starting to fade from his wind-burnt cheeks. “I was dumb enough to fall in love,” he said simply, sighing as he laid his head on his arms folded in front of him. “Big city girls are really pretty, Aunt Marnie.”

Marnie smiled at him, even though he wasn’t looking at her. It was a sad smile, stretched across her face with the knowledge that she’d long predicted such discrepancies, though she hoped they’d never come to fruition. She’d always known that the first time he fell, the fall would be hard, and as she watched him doze off on her kitchen table, she knew that she had — very regrettably — been correct. The little baby she’d held in her arms for two straight days, the wide eyed eight year old boy she’d been so smitten with, and the confused, angry teenager she’d loved despite his rage… they were all gone — only to be replaced by this broken, empty shell of her dear Shane.

Marnie’s heartstrings were holding on by a thread as she patted his shoulder, and he only grunted. “Let’s get you to bed, Shane,” she insisted.

He wouldn’t budge, so Marnie wrapped her arms around his chest from behind and tried to haul him up. He weighed about as much as a big sack of bricks. She gave up quickly, slumping over him and resting her head against his back, listening to the breaths that she’d only just understood were even more precious than she realized — and then, the tears began flowing. “What am I gonna do with you, Shane?” She sobbed against him, his oblivious body still limp in her arms. She thanked Yoba above that she wasn’t holding a corpse — even though it almost felt like she was.

“What are you doing?” A small voice asked from the darkness.

Marnie nearly jumped out of her skin, but Shane still didn’t stir. “He’s very tired, honey,” Marnie said, dusting off her apron as she took a step away. “I was trying to help him to bed.”

Little Jas shook her head. “Shae likes to sleep at the table,” she informed Marnie meekly.

Marnie gave the sleeping form of her nephew a once over, and fought back the sigh that would inevitably follow. “Well, what about you, Jas? Would you like to sleep in a bed?”

Jas nodded, a yawn rumbling through her small body. “Yes, please.”

Marnie put Jas to bed in the room that had always been Shane’s. The room that, all those years later, remained untouched, as if she knew, someday, he’d come back to her.

Eventually, after the “few weeks” passed without Shane and Jas leaving, Marnie cleared out Deena’s old bedroom and replaced it all with toys, purple carpets, and a child sized bed. In truth, Marnie was delighted to have another child around to tend to, but then again, Shane was proving to require much care of his own, even more so than when he was a child.

The first couple seasons were stable enough. Jas made friends with some children around town and started seeing Penny for tutoring, and Shane, as promised, got a job at the newly constructed Joja Mart. He hated every second of it, and Marnie knew as much, judging from the dark bags under his eyes after a long day’s work, and the whisky bottles that gradually replaced the toy cars and action figures in his bedroom.

Marnie wanted to tell him just to quit that wretched job all together, but the late nights she spent pouring over the ranch’s bills and rosters suggested otherwise. Of course, feeding two extra mouths didn’t come cheap — even if those mouths primarily consumed eggs, pizza, and rainbow cereal. So, to the best of her abilities, Marnie kept his head above water, and kept Jas healthy and content enough. For five long years, they kept on, as Marnie grew older, Jas grew taller and more intelligent, and Shane grew, every day, to detest life even more.

Then, there was that fateful Spring, that brought with it Litha Rosenhaal. At first, Marnie was delighted to see the young woman after so many years, finally back to lay claim over her family’s farm — but that joy had quickly turned to ash in her mouth.

Before her eyes, Marnie watched Shane fall in love. It wasn’t the healthy sort of love that she’d always hoped would find him, but something more sinister. A love that was complicated, and sticky, dragging him up and down throughout the highs and lows like some sort of sick, perpetual rollercoaster. Marnie knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Litha could never be the peace that Shane so desperately needed, but no amount of bickering or disagreements could ever convince him as much.

Similarly to when she’d watched Michael steer Deena’s wheelchair down the narrow hospital hallway, Marnie watched Litha wear Shane down to the bone. The only thing left to do was watch, and pray to Yoba that if his end had to come, it would be swift, and painless — because, come the following Spring, as she stood in the clearing before what remained of Aurora Vineyard and watched them be wed, Marnie knew, deep down in her soul, that it was time to give up.