Why You Should Never Rescue Stray Demons Chapter 33

**OZ**

I didn’t sleep last night. Not even a little. And it’s not like I didn’t try, I lay on the couch for hours, staring at the ceiling, willing my body to shut down. But my mind wouldn’t stop playing the moment over and over again. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw her face, right before the kiss. The way her eyes softened, the way her breath caught. And then... The way she looked when I pulled away. Like I’d slapped her with silence. I keep telling myself I did the right thing. But damn, the right thing sucks. I keep thinking about how close I came to kissing her. How close she came to letting me. That kind of moment doesn’t happen by accident. And yet, somehow, I managed to ruin it. Because I’m a coward. Because I still haven’t told her the truth. About the deal. About the fae. About why I was really summoned here in the first place. And the longer I keep the secret, the harder it is to imagine a version of the truth that won’t destroy everything we’ve built. Everything I’m starting to want. So instead of sleeping, I planned. Or tried to. Mostly I just spun in circles, stuck between guilt and longing and a gnawing anxiety that I’ve already done irreparable damage. Then, sometime after dawn, Mikey showed up. Apparently, he swings by in the mornings sometimes to check on her. I almost didn’t answer the door, afraid that he’d see the mess I’ve become. But then a different idea hit me. A strategy. He can be my buffer. If Mikey’s around when Kacia wakes up, maybe it’ll be easier. Less tense. Less personal. Maybe if we’re not alone, she won’t look at me like that again, like she doesn’t know what to make of me anymore. So when Mikey glanced toward the hallway, I was plotting. 

“She still asleep?” He asked and I nodded quickly.

“Yeah. Out cold.” I informed him. He started to turn away. 

“I’ll come back later then.” He told me and I pounced. 

“Actually, wait. Can you, uh… Show me where to buy groceries? I wanted to make her breakfast.” I announce. I’m not sure if it was pity, curiosity, or just his naturally heroic nature, but Mikey grinned and agreed.

“Sure. Hop in. I’ll drive.” He offered. So we grocery shopped. Together. And weirdly? It was kind of fun. We both like food. We both like Kacia. And apparently, we both enjoy quietly judging overpriced cereal. Back in Kacia’s unnaturally tidy kitchen, we got to work. We cooked enough to feed a small army. And while we chopped and flipped and stirred, Mikey asked me questions. Lots of them. To his credit, he didn’t push too far. But he did make it clear that he’s very invested in Kacia’s happiness. I think he still assumes we’re either secretly dating or circling around the idea. And maybe we are. Were. Damn it, I don’t know. But I like him. He’s honest, easy to talk to, and clearly someone she trusts. And HE doesn’t hate me yet, so that’s a bonus. We’re just sitting down to eat when it happens. Kacia wanders in. And I swear time stops. She’s wrapped in a blanket like she’s shielding herself from the world, her hair a mess of tangled braids. Her violet eyes are unhidden, no contact lenses yet. Her pointed ears stick out like she forgot to tuck them away. She looks tired and a little bit stunned, like she just woke up in the wrong timeline. Like she doesn’t know how we got here, or what the hell she’s looking at. I try not to stare. I fail. She’s adorable.

“Morning, precious.” I say casually, forcing a smile into my voice. 

“We didn’t want to wake you. Come take a seat.” I offer, trying to hide how tense I feel. She blinks at us like we’ve been body snatched. I catch the subtle glance she gives Mikey, then the table, then me. She’s trying to figure out how I went from emotionally constipated asshole to asking her to come play happy domestic with her best friend. Honestly? I don’t blame her. I don’t even know how I got here. All I know is, if I’m going to fix this, I need her to stay. To sit down. To let me stay, too. And maybe, just maybe, Mikey’s presence will help ease us back into something that doesn’t ache quite so much. Even if I’m still lying by omission. Even if the truth is probably coming for me like a freight train. 

Soon enough, Kacia’s sitting in the chair beside me, blanket still around her shoulders. I gently load up her plate, nudging a few extra slices of toast beside the eggs.

“Woah, hold up.” She catches my hand with hers, pulling her plate back like I’m trying to sabotage her. 

“That’s plenty. I’m not a giant like you.” She insists. Then she seems to realise she’s touching me and yanks her hand back. I huff out a laugh, trying not to show how good it feels just to be near her again, even if she’s still guarded. 

“Sorry, princess.” I apologise. It slips out before I can catch it, my default, teasing reflex. Her head turns, eyes locking with mine. And for one heartbeat, we’re both still. She doesn’t smile back. So I do it for both of us. I paste on a grin and bolt up from the table. 

“Right. I’ll, uh, get started on the kitchen.” I announce. It’s safer that way. If I stay seated beside her much longer, I’ll start talking again. And if I start talking, I might tell her the truth. And if I tell her the truth… Well it’s not something I should just blurt out. I start wiping down the counter like it insulted me. Her house is spotless, clinical, even. I suspect her kitchen gets more polish than actual use. She probably survives off coffee, protein bars, and sheer spite when I’m not around to force breakfast on her. But still, I clean. It gives me something to do with my hands. Something to focus on that isn’t the faint hurt still clinging to the corners of her eyes. While I scrub in silence, Kacia talks to Mikey. Her voice is calm, even and composed. It’s honestly impressive. I would never guess how uncomfortable she probably is. She tells him about the plan for the day. Visiting Dave’s parents, gathering leads. She keeps it professional, efficient. No hint of the disaster I made of last night.

“Send me his details, I’ll see if he’s used a credit card or anything in the last few days.” Mikey says, already reaching for his phone. Kacia beams. Actually beams. 

“Thanks, Mikey.” She says sweetly. He shrugs, brushing it off like it’s nothing. 

“You do favours for me all the time. I hope the guy’s okay.” He says sincerely. They shift easily into small talk, Mikey mentions Sarah, their latest prep for the new baby, and something about a faulty dishwasher. Kacia promises to join them for dinner sometime next week. She even offers to bring dessert. She’s casual. Comfortable. I stand nearby like a ghost, pretending I don’t notice that no one’s mentioned whether I’m invited. It’s never comfortable watching people make plans in front of you. Eventually, she finishes eating and excuses herself to go shower and get dressed. I hear the bathroom door click shut down the hall. Mikey waits all of five seconds before turning on me like a bloodhound that just caught a scent.

“What the hell happened between you two?” He demands. I blink. 

“What?” I ask. He gestures toward the hallway. 

“Kaci. She’s acting weird. Stiff. Careful. You are acting like you murdered her cat.” He points out. I wince. Okay. Maybe I haven’t been as subtle as I thought.

“She doesn’t even have a cat… Nothing happened.” I say. Truthfully. And it’s true. Nothing happened. That’s the whole damn problem. She leaned in. I didn’t. I couldn’t. I hate myself a little for it. Mikey scoffs.

“That’s crap. I saw the breakfast you made her. A man makes a woman a breakfast like that for one of two reasons. It either says ‘thankyou for last night’ OR ‘I’m an idiot, sorry about last night. So which is it?’” He demands. I sigh. 

“The second one. But I'm going to fix it.” I say, my tone is determined. I have no idea HOW I’m going to fix it, but I’ll figure it out. I hope. Mikey’s brow furrows. 

“Really?” He asks doubtfully. 

“Really.” I repeat, voice flat. He watches me for a long second, clearly trying to find something in my expression, then he sighs. 

“Alright. You’re not gonna tell me more, are you?” He confirms. I shake my head. He doesn’t press. Just nods and helps me finish tidying up the kitchen like he hasn’t just cracked open the part of me that feels the most raw. After a while, he calls out a goodbye down the hall and heads out, leaving me in the silence. I lean against the counter, heart thudding too hard. I wait for Kacia to come back. I got through the morning, but now my buffer is gone and I have to survive the rest of the day.