I’ll never be weak for anyone again. Including myself.
Butfuck. He makes me want to be.
“Yep. Keep telling yourself that,” Renae murmurs. With a gentle bump of her shoulder to mine, she walks away before I can toss out my comeback.
If I had one. Which I don’t.
“Sorry it took me so long.” Daniel appears at my elbow, jerking my attention away from my departing friend. “I got held up by a basketball fan. Nice guy, but damn could he talk.” He chuckles, handing me my forgotten-until-now glass of wine.
“Thanks.” I sip, suddenly in desperate need of it. Part of me wishes he would’ve just brought the bottle.
That same part refuses to glance in the direction of the living room entrance.
“Everything okay?” Whereas with other people, that would be a throwaway question, with Daniel, that thread of concern in his voice turns it into a genuine inquiry.
Dammit. Why can’t I be into him?
“I’m fine,” I assure him, even rummaging up a smile. “Just a little nervous for Zora. My sister is not a fan of surprises.”
As far as excuses and misdirection, it’s not a bad one—and still the truth.
Daniel nods, lifting the squat glass of amber liquid to his mouth. After a sip, he says, “I wouldn’t worry too much. I don’t think I’ve seen a man as enamored with a woman as Cyrus is with your sister. I don’t think he’d do anything to embarrass or hurt her. Even inadvertently.”
That’s true. Still ...
“I have something for you.” Daniel switches his glass to his other hand and reaches inside his jacket pocket.
A wisp of alarm trips through me. “Oh, Daniel, you didn’t have to—”
“Here.” He hands me a folded piece of paper.
The objection dies on my lips, quieted by surprise. “What’s this?” I frown down at the note.
“Take it and find out.” He laughs softly. “I apologize in advance that it’s not the number to Harvelle’s Roadhouse.”
“I should hope not,” I scoff, accepting the paper from him. “Demons burned it to the ground. But extra points for theSupernaturalreference.” After unfolding the note, I scan the writing on it. There are three website names and, underneath each one, a username and password. “What ...?”
“You’ve been working some long nights,” he says. And I have. Not on BURNED matters, though. On finishing the current Ravaged Lands issues. Uploading a new chapter each month on top of keeping afull-time job isn’t easy. A lot of times, I’m up late, completing my illustrations, writing dialogue, or concentrating on marketing for myself—or my pen name—instead of my family’s company. “I know you enjoy anime. I figure while you’re up, these sites might keep you company. They’re supposed to have all the best shows on them.”
I blink. “They do,” I whisper. Then clear my throat. “I can’t believe ... thank you. This is one of the most thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me.”
“You’re welcome, Miriam,” he murmurs.
I glance down at the paper in my hand again. One of the sites, I already have a subscription to, but not the other two. And I’m not hurting for money—BURNED is successful, and the royalties I earn from Ravaged Lands sometimes exceed my day job’s salary—but it isn’t about that. He thought of what would make life easier for me, what would make me happy ...
Once more, I keep my eyes fixed on the note and don’t seek out the Viking in the room.
Why, dammit? Why can’t my body set on fire for Daniel? Life would just be simpler. I have a feeling it would be amazing.
But the warmth that fills me isn’t from desire; it’s friendship. Admiration.
And it’s not fair to him if I allow him to think it’s anything different.
“Daniel—”
“Excuse me.” Cyrus’s voice rings out in the room, interrupting me. “Can I have everyone’s attention, please?”
Swallowing the words that will probably hurt the pride, if not the heart, of a good man, I turn toward Cyrus, who stands in front of the massive fireplace that nearly dominates one wall.
