Wade pulled back his hands, looking like he really didn't want to.

  Shilloh did not let herself think about whether she wanted him to take them back or not. It was hard enough not to tell him all the ways he was amazing. That while he didn't make her feel safe—that wasn't something she thought any person could do for her—she (mostly) forgot about the fear when he was around to fill her heart.

  More than that, with every person you met, there was a part of you that came through a bit stronger in their presence. It was especially notable when you went back to see people from your youth.

  Birch made her feel protective, transgressive, and like she was in on a joke. She fell into the role of Group Mom with her. Still, the whole time, some part of her was aware of how being the straight man in the gag would set up Birch to nail the punchline. That or she would leave herself open to being 'unwillingly' dragged into fun. All by instinct.

  Nick made her feel normal, like a businesswoman who had managed to find a type of friendship that made her stop being ashamed about her boring grown-up behaviors. Sure, her younger self would have groaned and revolted to know she'd debate types of retirement plans, but Nick brought it out of her and made it fun.

  And Fraulein. Fraulein loved her in the pure, true way only an animal could. The less she said about how that made her feel, the better.

  Wade was different from all of them.

  He made her feel more like herself.

  She didn't need her Grandma around to tell her that was something special. Something that could last.

  Waiting to hear the reason why the first person in years to like her, and actually know her, didn't want her made Shilloh wish her Grandma was here anyway. Birch would also offer to set Wade on fire, but Grandma would do it. And get away with it, too.

  "But," Wade said, "the problem is me." His usually calm grey gaze turned stormy, "My baggage is big. And I mean like, ongoing conditions, some seriously fucked up history that still leaves me messed up pretty regularly, and other things that would make reasonable, normal people decide not to risk investing themselves in me. Some I can, currently do, and would continue to work on. But others are not in my control. And all of it is stuff that would make me a liar by omission if I didn't let you know about it before you decided."

  This was… not what she expected. Was it perilously close to the two classic and most hated excuses? Yes. But he had neither said that he was saving her from himself (baiting her into offering to fix him) nor was he claiming he knew her so well (better even than she did), and he could tell it wouldn't work because he had predicted everything about her.

  "You mean, like, cancer or something?"

  "Not cancer, but you can imagine that I have a comparable condition. Plus, my real job is demanding enough and dangerous enough that it would be wrong to not let you know about it before you decide. You know," a sour grin twisted his lips, "informed consent and all that."

  Somewhere in hell, a demon was getting an outstanding achievement of the century award for making Shilloh the only person in the whole fucking world where Agnes's sex-positive presence had made it harder for her to get laid.

  "You don't have to disclose your mental health diagnoses on the first date, right? I don't need a gene test and a physical for us to get a drink."

  "Scotty pointed that out. But we've got more going on than just getting a drink. Leaving aside the whole 'forced proximity' thing, I don't think you and I would be starting as strangers on a first date, do you?"

  Shilloh growled low in her throat but still shook her head in agreement.

  "Weird how hearing that I'm not the only one thinking that makes me feel better even when it's ruining my day, right?"

  "Stop being sweet, I'm trying to trivialize my emotions."

  He laughed and—with all the muscle-melting warmth of hot bathwater rolling up her skin—that damn change came over his face again. The smile was criminal, and she might need to shoot him in self-defense if he kept brandishing it about so casually.

  Fucking asshole.

  She blew out a slow breath, smothering a non-trivial desire to just flee the whole big mess. "To be clear, making out in my tent and then thinking about it rationally isn't on the table?"

  "No, I don't think I could do that."

  "Fuck. Aren't I supposed to be the one holding out until you put a ring on it?"

  "I'm sorry."

  "No more of that! Seriously. This is good communication. It's what people our age should do. And, for the record, I don't feel personally hurt by any of it. In fact, you've gone out of your way to make me feel good and paint yourself as an issue. So, correct me if I'm wrong, but that makes me think that this conversation isn't done, right?"

  "No," he said, making the word so heavy that it hit the ground at the same time as her leaden stomach.

  "Are these big, bad, potential dealbreakers that you would need to tell me about before dating classified?"

  "Parts."

  "The big parts?"

  "Yeah. A few of them."

  She desperately tried to find a new and unique way to combine her lexicon of obscenity, such that it could represent just how she felt.

  In classic Wade fashion, she wanted nothing more than to be angry enough that she could storm off and call it the whole thing done, but she couldn't.

  She had seen him rescue worms, bounce babies, and smile like spring blooming. There were no bad intentions or ultimatums. He was not doing performative angst meant to force a big, demonstrative display of love from her. This wasn't wringing out concession to personal problems he just didn't want to have to work on.

  What he said made sense. She really would be upset if someone made her feel all these mother-fucking feelings, love-bombed her, and only then told her about dealbreakers when the threat of heartbreak or hurting a person she had come to love had become a loaded gun pointed at her temple. That wouldn't be a real choice, not to her. She would be coerced by the risk of grief and the emotional fallout that came part and parcel with every bit of love they had built up to that point.

  Also, foundationally, Shilloh didn't let people she loved get hurt. Even before moving deeper into dryaddom, that was a part of her she had been careful about when deciding to make friends and give them her trust.

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  Would she say no to dating someone because they were sick, or if she needed to be a little extra intentional in her communication so she wouldn't trigger some nasty flashbacks? Probably not. Especially since she and her semi-human, don't-get-kidnapped-again-protocol bullshit would need the exact same consideration. Still, she wanted—no needed—to make that choice with eyes wide open. Before she was taken by the near compulsive fear of someone she loved being in pain.

  Maybe this was really just her fucked-up brain not wanting to be within a thousand miles of losing control (kidnapping would do that to you), and maybe there were situations where the deferral or omission of information at the beginning of a relationship made sense and was completely fine. To her, though…

  Well, Wade wasn't the only one with battle scars and baggage.

  "You know, with my secret heritage and hidden identity situation, I'm probably one of the only people who would immediately understand this, and appreciate the effort you're going through to do the right thing, right?"

  "Appreciate? You're not mad?"

  "No. I mean, I'm annoyed. Annoyed enough to kick someone. All of this is ridiculously convoluted and just so annoying. Being an adult was supposed to make all of this dating stuff easier and less dramatic than in high school. But, on the other hand, I also stopped watching rom-coms for a while because, when I imagined myself with the lead character, none of them could handle me giving them this exact talk."

  Wade snorted, "You sure you didn't stop watching because noir is inherently superior to Rom-coms? Just like twin mattresses, and not having to spend money on dates?"

  Shilloh couldn't bring herself to laugh, or even fake a little chuff of amusement. Her insides were incomprehensible. They were a hurricane of mixed emotions. She would have to unpack it all later.

  Maybe.

  Possibly.

  If she didn't have a choice or easily accessible cyanide pills as an alternative.

  Despite the emotional maelstrom obscuring her ability to introspect, something was immediately clear to her; she felt herself pulled towards Wade so strongly that it was almost a physical sensation.

  Was it a dryad intuition thing? Who knew. What mattered was that, now that she had confronted her feelings and knew he felt the same, she wanted this. Logic be damned and all the obstacles too.

  Shilloh straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and imagined the 'get to work' nod her Grandma would have given her if she were here (and not setting Wade on fire). Shilloh would neither lose her head like a love-sick pre-teen, nor would she roll over before she had done the work to see if this really could be something special.

  "Alright, then what do we do? We both want to date. And even though I desperately want to skip this whole uncomfortable 'do-we-or-don't-we' phase, you have a point. I understand them and can even respect you for standing by your convictions. Doesn't change the fact that we both still want to give it a shot."

  "I—," his words stuttered, and his eyes blinked a few times. "Thank you. Genuinely."

  In a flash, she knew; someone had hurt Wade. Maybe emotionally, maybe physically. But someone had made this man act like he was going to be hit for having feelings. That was a problem. A serious problem that she let fall behind the conversational momentum she was maintaining with sheer force of will. She'd get back to it. For now, this conversation needed to end and get less emotional. Her limits were nearing.

  "Don't thank me. I mean, I'd say you owe me head but…" she flipped her hand in a dismissive gesture.

  Rather than blushing like she had expected, the muscles of Wade's chest visibly flexed. He smiled so that she could see his canine teeth and burning eyes, "Don't threaten me with a good time."

  Her emotional turmoil was immediately and violently drowned in a cascade of boiling hot pressure. It started behind her ears, building as it melted along the muscles of her neck, poured down from her collarbones in a tingling wave of goosebumps, and settled somewhere behind her belly button, occasionally dripping drops of fire that made her thighs tighten with each impact.

  Fucking hell. At least this whole weird conversation had made at least something more clear than it had been at the onset: she was one broken bitch.

  Horny as a jack rabbit and a little less emotionally mature. If she ever got a therapist, then she was going to end up earning them a mansion.

  Wade visibly mastered himself. The carnivorous grin, subtle forward lean: all of it was pulled back as he set his thoughts behind mental chains and locked them. That sharp smile and reciprocal heat in him became invisible except in the howling she saw behind his eyes.

  "Thank you again," he said, obviously trying to keep his back straight and voice calm." I'm not sure how unusual this is—I'm not particularly experienced with dating—but I don't think it's right to set people challenges to overcome so they can date. I'm not King Eurystheus, and you aren't Hercules."

  "No, I don't beg for affection." Though she thought she could pull off an exception if he wanted her to beg while they were roleplaying a—

  She stopped that train of thought before a blush could overtake her.

  No more sex jokes. Not with Wade. It was too dangerous.

  Wade nodded, completely oblivious," If it's not too much, would you like to just keep getting to know each other? But put a pin on the romance until we see how things go with your job interview? You may end up having the clearance for us to do things right. But until then, just keep on."

  "Keep on with what? Hanging out?"

  "I don't know. I sort of hoped you would know since you're the social one who goes out dancing and has a bunch of friends and stuff."

  Shilloh snorted, the heat in her stomach finally cooling. "I'm really not. I lived alone in the woods and mostly talked to my plants and an outdoor cat. Still, I get your meaning. How about this: you and I spend the rest of the trip getting to know each other with the intention of becoming amazing friends. We will accept that we both had a crush on each other, feel complimented, and move on like adults. But," she added, holding his eyes so he would know she was serious and not just letting him down gently, "after we figure out my clearance, we talk again.

  He opened his mouth, but she raised her finger and added on an addendum, "Unless we've learned to hate each other or whatever."

  Wade laughed, which was good. She wasn't joking. But the laughter was still the best response she could hope for.

  "Deal. I actually think I would really like that," Wade said, sounding relieved in a way he never had after surviving a fight for his life. "I like talking to you, and I don't want to lose that. Unless," he grinned," we learn to hate each other or whatever."

  She threw a twig at him. "Fuck off," she said, holding out a hand to shake. "Still, we have ourselves a deal. We will turn this trip into something that lets us come back with a friend who can understand all the weird cloak-and-dagger bullshit. But, if you aren't sick of me and I haven't killed you by the time I get top-secret clearance, we'll revisit this conversation and see if we want to try dating."

  "I can get behind that."

  "Good," she said, letting some sharpness come into her smile, as they clasped hands. "The only thing I ask for in exchange is that you help Scotty find me a familiar without letting Jasque know."

  "Excuse me, what?"

  She gave him a little air-kiss and leaned into his personal space with a challenging smile.

  "Oh no! I think I hear the phone ringing. I have to get that."

  She stood up and started walking away.

  "You can get a familiar?"

  She waved goodbye over her shoulder.

  "Why is it a secret? Are you going to get something bad!"

  Fraulein sauntered up to her, having been in concealment up until that point. Though it was not a dryad instinct, the female part of herself still knew that Fraulein would have made a hissing, spitting appearance had Wade been unkind.

  As it was, the magical wild cat, who was in one of her larger shapes today, merely sauntered next to her after bumping a shoulder into her legs.

  "Hey, little sis," she said to Fraulein, as Wade kept hollering after her. "Thanks for looking out for me. You're the best. Also, we still had plenty of trip left for us to practice being just friends, right? You think Wade and I can make that work, don't you?"

  The big cat did not answer. Though she did flick her ears and breathe out a bit more heavily than was strictly necessary.

  "Bullshit exasperated cats," Shilloh grumbled. Moving into a jog as she heard Wade start to follow her. "Showing up out of nowhere, sighing, and making me look bad. If you didn't help keep my sleeping bag warm, I'd have left you behind."

  The cat snorted. Shilloh told herself it was a sneeze and accelerated into a run before the cat could hurt her feelings any more.

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