Page 26 of Mytho Investigations: Side Stories

Neither had he. Nor had he expected one night to become a month of one-nights.

He opened his mouth, but he didn’t have to justify himself. He didn’t owe Bud an explanation.

Mason leaned against the door. “Take your boxes and give me the key. When you’ve booked the truck, text, and I’ll make sure I’m here so you can take the sofa.”

“I don’t want the sofa. We bought it for this place. Or are you planning on moving?”

Mason shook his head. “I don’t know yet. But I hate that fucking sofa.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that when we were looking at it?”

Mason tried not to roll his eyes and failed. “I did. Several times. But it’s the one you wanted, so you got it.”

Bud pulled his keys out of his pocket and took the house key off the fob. “So, this is it?”

“Yeah, it is.” And he felt bad for both of them. “I wished I’d had the balls to say something a year ago or two years ago.”

“If you shove the boxes onto the porch, I’ll put them in the back of my truck. I’ll text you about the sofa.”

“Thank you. I wish you all the best.”

Bud stared at him. “Why would you wish your ex all the best?”

“I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to be with you.”

“Huh. So you want to remain friends?”

Mason laughed. He couldn’t imagine hanging out as friends and talking about their weeks. “No, I think our social circles are so different they don’t even touch.”

And he was done with trying to straddle both. He moved the boxes onto the porch, and Bud began carrying them to his truck.

For a few heartbeats, he stood there watching him and remembering why he’d fallen for him in the first place. He was confident, strong, and capable, and those things hadn’t changed. But he used that strength to bulldoze over everyone.

He pushed the last box out. Sitting on top was the ring box. When he’d packed everything, putting the engagement ring away had hurt the most. He wanted to be married, and handing it back was the end of that dream. Now, when he looked at it, there was only relief that he wasn’t marching towards signing the papers and saying vows.

Bud picked up the box, and without saying anything, he put it in his pocket. He hefted up the last packing box and walked to his truck.

With the distance between them and no more boxes, there was nothing left. Mason lifted his hand in farewell, and Bud did the same.

Mason shut the door, glad that it had gone better than expected. Then he remembered the magic and the elf in his kitchen.

He leaned against the door, knowing that he couldn’t leave that unsettled even though he didn’t want to fight with Vlash. If he said nothing, he’d be falling back into last year’s bad habits.

He peeled himself off the door and walked into the kitchen. “You used magic.”

Vlash stopped cutting the chicken he’d found in the fridge and rested the knife on the chopping board. “I did. But only so he’d listen to you, nothing more.”

Mason pressed his lips together. “How can I tell you aren’t using magic on me?”

“Because I’m not an unethical prick. I don’t want a be-spelled lover.”

Mason nodded.

But once again, he’d chosen a man who could twist his words and roll right over him. He wasn’t making different choices; he was making the same ones with a different person.

“I’ve only got your word on that.”

“Exactly. I’m an elf. My words matter. What do you want me to do? Vow that I will never use magic on you?”