“I’ll be right there, okay?” Jo called out, hurrying off down the hall. “I just gotta grab something from my room. Save me aseat?”
“Everything’s Jake, doll,” Wayne smirked before turning away, flipping his nickel with one hand as he waved over his shoulder at her with the other. “That seat belongs to you,now.”
Jo’s chest clenched at the implication. Her seat, her life, a now permanent fixture in the Society. Barely a month ago, that thought would have overwhelmed and suffocated her. But now? Now, she was almost looking forward to what that mightbring.
She waited until Wayne was far ahead before sprinting up the staircase opposite herown.
Snow’s door was in the process of closing and her chest was heaving by the time she made it down the hall, to the unmarked one all the way at the end. The stark white of the wood seemed to glow against the backdrop of the surrounding walls’ warmer tones. It looked almost too pristine to bereal.
She shouldknock.
Actually, no. She probablyshouldn’t.
The debate rose and fell within her like an indecisive tide. She wanted to ask him, for the first time since a month ago, exactly what was going on with him, with his magic. She wanted to ask if they were still on good terms, if he truly regretted bringing herthere.
She wanted to see if he wasokay.
That last realization rushed through her with startling fierceness. The last major interaction she’d had with the man was watching him contorted in pain, barely able tostand.
“Here’s far enough,” he’d said. But what did that mean? Why did he not want her to go anyfurther?
All those coalescing questions were enough to have Jo lifting her knuckles to white paint and thick wood, rapping twice against Snow’sdoor.
The lack of response stretched long enough that Jo began to assume Snow wouldn’t answer. In fact, after a while, she started to wonder if she’d imagined him escaping down the hall. Maybe he was already in the briefing room, waiting for her. Maybe she’d reacted on an impulse that was completelyunwarranted.
Slowly, Jo backed away from the door, shoving her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. This was a mistake. Even if he was in there, it was obvious he didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone her. He was likely just embarrassed. Men and their stupid pride,right?
Jo wished she could shrug off the notion thateasily.
But before she could completely turn around, drag her feet back towards the briefing room, Snow’s door cracked open. Jo froze in place. He stared at her with an unreadable expression, posture stiff and silver hair falling just so over his eye. He had an eyebrow raised, gaze searching, waiting. Even painfully composed, aura bordering on irritated, he was stillbeautiful.
After what felt like an awkward span of silence, Jo cleared her throat, looking away. “Hey,” she said, instantly hating herself. The breath of sound she heard escape him could have been amusement or annoyance; she chose to believe it was theformer.
“You’re supposed to be in the briefing room,” Snow eventually said. Jo justshrugged.
“As should you.” And then, because she couldn’t seem to leave well enough alone when it came to the mysterious man, she added, “Are you allright?”
“Asever.”
Jo picked at the thread in the pocket of her hoodie. It wasn’t an answer. But she suspected it was the best she was going toget.
“Do you regret it?” Jo fired off next. It had been a month, sure, but she knew he’d have no problem determining what shemeant.
It was expected, if not a bit disheartening, when Snow finally answered, “Yes.”
“Then why show me at all?” Jo demanded, crossing her arms over her chest. “And ghosting me after that? I thought you said everything was all right betweenus.”
Jo would probably never tire of Snow’s look of baffled shock, the way his eyes widened with more emotion than she was used to seeing on his usually stoic face. But even if it felt like a minor triumph, that didn’t diminish the tension between them, the frustration slowly consuming Jo’s mood. He was certainly driving her mad, because some small part of her lovedit.
Eventually, with a tight sigh and a glance away from Jo’s face, Snow replied, “I have no idea what this ‘ghosting’ might be, as I am not a ghost. But I felt. . . I was hopeful it might change things for you. Show you the true nature of this place. Or, at the very least, make up for any misgivings ofmine.”
That was actually kind of sweet, in its own way. A sweetness reduced substantially by his reactions and following radio silence, but still. In the short time since joining the Society, she’d learned not to expect too much from the man. Plus, if Jo was honest, she could’ve sought him out also. It went bothways.
Jo mimicked his sigh with a slightly more put-upon one of her own. “Next time, if you feel like making something up to me, ask me if anything needs to be made upfor—”
“That’s not—” Snow cut her off, and by the look of surprise bleeding into his features once they’d both gone silent, it was a completely involuntary interjection. When he didn’t automatically finish his thought, Jofrowned.
“What’snot?”
