Ranger [ON HOLD]

Chapter Twenty-six - Not My Forte

Ethan would know how to handle this far better than he would.

Comforting someone wasn't exactly his forte. Any sort of comforting he had done in the past had usually been a literal bullet to the head.

Ranger mentally sighed, cursing the fact that there wasn't a single book in the library that could give him an idea as to how he should approach this. He had been thinking not ten minutes ago that finally some good was coming his way, but the news of Ella's deteriorating mood had pushed the thought away.

Perhaps it was wrong to be happy when Ella still hadn't come any closer to figuring out how she had appeared the way she did. She had been patient with them and hadn't once even asked to return home.

In fact, the entire time she'd been with them she hadn't asked a single thing. Not even where they had taken her, or where they even were. She could live states away, or even a town away. Though the fact that she hadn't spoken up on the car ride about familiar sights made it seem as though she was worlds away.

His eyebrows furrowed at the thought, his hand dropping back down to his side.

Is she even from this world?

It would make sense if she wasn't. The chances were, she had been air-dropped by a powerful witch that needed her for something that had a full chance of ending up badly. Often times they required unique ingredients to their recipes. And a girl that came from another universe would fit the bill.

He shook his head as his scowl deepened. He was getting ahead of himself now, by worrying about where she came from. He needed to figure out how in the hell he would comfort her. Something he could say that wouldn't make it worse.

What if he was too forward?

Kissing her was already forward enough. A part of him grunted, and if possible, his scowl intensified. It was a miracle the door hadn't spontaneously burst into flames from the ferocity of his glare.

"Ella."

And her next muffled sniffle was cut off abruptly. Beyond the door, he heard the bed creak.  

Then the door opened, and he was greeted with red tear stained cheeks and watery grey eyes. Her hand lifted to rub away at the moisture, and she gave a brilliant attempt at a smile that might have been Oscar worthy if not for the tears already returning.  

Only then did he remember he still didn't have anything to say.  

I nibbled on the tip of my thumb anxiously, my eyes locked on a floorboard but not really seeing it as my mind spun inside of my head. Every now and then a stray tear slid down my cheek before I stubbornly rubbed it away with the heel of my palm. I was positive I now looked like more than just a mess.

Even after I'd safely locked my door and burrowed under the covers, I couldn't bring myself to burst into tears like I'd thought I would. No matter how desperately I felt I just needed to cry. Something stopped me from letting out more than a few baby tears, and it was infuriating.

If I'm going to cry, I should just cry.

Still, I couldn't. And it only seemed to darken my mood.

There's no point in being a baby... you'll get home eventually. I scolded myself, tightening my hold on the edge of my covers and tugging them up over my head with a sigh.