My dear, we're slow dancing in a burning room
She is home already. Maeve glanced back from where she was hovering by the kitchen counter, in the middle of making a simple dinner for the two of them, still trying to figure out the best way to broach the topic of Locke coming back. She needed to tell him. To talk to him about it all. When they last spoke of his father, Maeve was sure that something had happened to Locke. That he'd disappeared. Her brows drew together as she took in his strained expression, the way his fists were clenched at his sides, and how quickly his chest rose and fell with his anxious breaths. Instantly she was on guard. Her motherly instincts on high alert at the sight of her son so clearly upset.
The Nightshade shifted away from what she was working on, moving to his side and settling on the couch, reaching out to cup his cheek and brush her thumb across the skin there. "What is it, little star? Is everything alright?" Maeve asked gently, "Did something happen?"
The Nightshade shifted away from what she was working on, moving to his side and settling on the couch, reaching out to cup his cheek and brush her thumb across the skin there. "What is it, little star? Is everything alright?" Maeve asked gently, "Did something happen?"
Maeve
