“Who did this?”
I shake my head at him like he’s being silly. “It’s a long story.”
He spins me around to face Itheelia, his hands still on me. “Mum, fix it,” he tells her.*
“Darling.” She rolls her eyes. “Jammie, it’s a scratch.”
“It needs a stitch,” he says, impatient now.
“I don’t want a stitch in my face!” I look back at him.
“It’s deep, Daph,” he says, voice serious. “Ye sleep in a fucking tree. It could get infected.” Then he looks back at his mother, face all serious. “Make it, Mum, now.”
Itheelia walks over to her son, unbothered by how demanding? he’s being. She lifts an eyebrow. “I will make it if you drink a tea.”
He rolls his eyes and waves his hands impatiently. “Nosy witch,” he says under his breath.
“I heard that,” his mother calls back to him.
“Said it so ye would,” he tells her before he gives me a look, moving me away from his mum and Rune. His face goes back to serious. “Bo, why d?dnae ye come to me?”
Itheelia walks over with the tea, hands it to Jamison, and then just stands there, smiling pleasantly.
He gives her a curt look that makes me feel like he’s either brave or stupid? to be so capricious towards her. “You d?nnae need to stand here while I drink it. I said to ye I will.”
Itheelia rolls her eyes. “This is my house, you know,” she tells him as she retreats.
He stares at me, tongue pressed into his cheek, mostly annoyed (but with the smallest hint of amusement present as well) as he waits for her to move out of earshot.
He lifts his eyebrow, waiting for me to answer.
“Jem,” I sigh. “I—I don’t—”
I stare up at him. I don’t know when his hand made its way to my waist, but it has and he’s holding it.
I sigh. Why didn’t I go to him? I don’t know. Because I didn’t want to go to Jamison’s boat and find him with Morrigan on the table again and have him see it crush me on my face in front of him? I didn’t want any kind of confirmation that Hook is exactly who I worry he might be, that he’s not as good as I think he is, as I so desperately want him to be.* Because I already don’t really know what I am to one boy, except something between nothing and everything depending on the day, the hour, and the moment. I don’t want to be that to Jamison too. And I can’t actually figure out what I am to him.
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, so I just wave my hands between us once vaguely with a confused look on my face.
Jamison shakes his head, looking genuinely annoyed.
“How?” he asks, sounding a bit desperate.
Then Itheelia pops up beside us again, an impatient smile on her face.
Her son swears under his breath and rolls his eyes. He swigs the tea back in one gulp and thrusts her the teacup.
“Thank you.” She gives him a tight smile and then watches him for a moment afterwards with pinched eyes. “Did that burn your esophagus on the way down?”
“Aye.” He nods once, wincing a little, and our eyes catch.
I sniff a laugh, and so does he.
He turns to his mother, the moment before now broken.
“What dae they say?”
She holds it to her chest. “Oh, now you want to know?”
Jem gives her a look. “They’re mine.”
“No longer,” she tells him politely (but she does flash the leaves to Rune).
Jamison throws me the kind of look a boy who loves his mother but is annoyed at her might make, and it makes me smile at him, but he just frowns at me, runs his finger over the cut on my cheek.
“Sure, who would do that to a face like this?”
All of me goes soft, and my eyes go heavy as I stare up at him.
“Ahem.” Itheelia clears her throat, and we both snap our heads over at her, like we’ve been caught in a moment. She’s holding a little mortar and pestle that’s full of a crushed-up lilac paste. She scoops some up on her finger and eyes me. “This will sting for a moment, and then it’ll be gone.”
I nod once, then she smears it on me.
Now, I must say, “sting” was an understatement. My eyes go wide and Jamison grimaces, looking sorry for me like he knows it’s worse than she made it sound.
It’s skin cells regenerating on the spot—growing and creeping back towards one another to make my skin close again. It feels like a burn, this pulling, boring kind of pain, and Jem holds my gaze as I frown through it all.
After about a minute, it stops hurting, and Itheelia looks over at me rather indifferently. “It’s done.”
Jamison reaches over and wipes the paste off my face. “Perfect,” he says, watching me, and I swallow heavy.
I reach up and touch my cheek where the wound was before. “Oh my god.” I look over at Itheelia, wide-eyed. “That’s magic!”
“Literally, yes.” She nods, wiping her hands on her dress.
I stare over at Jem a bit dumbstruck, and he gives me a little wink.
“I think we are done here,” Itheelia announces, Rune sitting on her shoulder.
Jamison frowns. “But I just got here.”
His mother nods. “And now you will walk this girl back down the mountain.”
He tosses me an unimpressed look, but I give him a big, hopeful grin. I liked the walk up here by myself, but I will like it more with him. He rolls his eyes at me and moves towards the door.
“I love you,” his mother calls.
He gives her a long-suffering look. “Love you. Thanks for—” He gestures to his cheek and nods his head towards me.
“Yes.” I look over at her. “Really, thank you. And sorry for just dropping in.”
“Anytime.” She shakes her head. “Well, not anytime, but you know, within reason.”
I nod at her, pleased because I feel as though I’ve made a friend, and I don’t think I have that many here.
The first few minutes down the mountain are spent in silence, but I love silence with him. Our shoulders keep brushing against one another, and I become acutely aware of where my shoulder sits in correlation to his. His shoulder and my nose are about the same height. I like him from down here—I have such a prime view of the angle of his jaw, the way his facial hair shades him. He has a freckle on his neck that I think is calling my name, and I swallow heavy again.
“Jamison—”
He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Yes?”
“Do you remember that I’m eighteen now?”
He stares straight ahead but smiles a little. It’s only for a second before it’s replaced with frustration.
“Daph, ye can come to me.” He looks over at me. “Always.”
I give him a nod because I don’t know what I am to him, and I don’t know whether I believe him.
“I like your mum,” I tell him to change the subject.
He looks down at me. “She likes you.”
I purse my lips. “Does she?”
Jamison laughs. “She’s a bit of a closed book, hard to read, but aye.” He nods a few times before he eyes me. “Are we going to talk about what happened?”
“No.” I look straight ahead.
“Wusnae a question, Daph.” He knocks me with his shoulder gently. “Tell me.”
I squint at a tree that’s nowhere near him. “I don’t think I should,” I say eventually.