Again, I shoved the voice from me, doubling my efforts to bring Brett into focus. See his beautiful face, feel his turmoil.
Starbursts of white light exploded behind my eyes, my brain experiencing a sort of massive brain freeze.
I sat there, managing nothing more than dragging in deep, shuddering breaths. Even that felt like too monumental a task.
Finally, the pain ebbed, and my pulse began to slow.
“You’re doing this, aren’t you? You’re making it where I can’t find Brett.”
If you’re such a great warlock, I wouldn’t be able to do such a thing, would I?
“Why are you doing this? Let me find him.”
He doesn’t want to be found.
Another rush of those feelings returned, not brought on by the voice, though confirming its claim. Brett didn’t want to be found. He didn’t want me.
I should go home. To my home, not Mom and Dad’s. Brett wasn’t there. The vampire wouldn’t be coming. Maybe Brett would show up if I were at home. I shook myself. He wasn’t going to be at my house. Not tonight. He’d be back. He had to be. We were meant to be. I just needed to have faith. Let him take his space. I didn’t need to suffocate him. That wouldn’t help.
You could make yourself forget him. Or cause him to feel all the pain you feel. I bet even a useless lump like you could pull that off. I’d help.
The suggestion was so out of the realm of possibilities I couldn’t even respond for several seconds. “I’d never hurt him. Ever. And I don’t want to forget him. I could never do that. Plus, he’ll be back.”
I looked up at the stars, dim through the dusty windshield. He was out there. He was struggling and hurting. He was afraid. But he loved me. Loves me. Brett loves me.
He’d be back.
One
FINN DE MORISCO
Four Months Later
“Shutup, Caitlin!”
“I’m not going to shut up!” Caitlin flung the door closed, making the frame tremble and sealing us in my bedroom. “I don’t care if Mom and Dad feel too bad to tell you to grow the fuck up. Christina and Cynthia can whimper away about how heartbroken you are. Don’t fuckin’ care! Get out of the damned bed, pull on your big-boy pants, and get to work!” Her red face clashed with the current cotton-candy color of her spiky hair.
I turned away from her, pulling the white duvet over my ears. “You’re the last person in this family who has any right to cast stones. Go away.”
The blinds, of their own accord, shot up to the top of the windows with a clang, and sunlight flooded the dark room. I buried my head deeper under the fabric.
She growled from the opposite side of the room. “Don’t think the covers won’t be next.”
“So desperate for a man you’re turning to your own brother now?”
Her voice lowered. “You know, your lesbian humor used to be much sharper. And with as much weight as you’ve lost, there’s not much to see anyway. I’m going to count to five.”
I sat up, anger flaring. “Really! Count to five? Screw you, Cate! Try it. I’ll have you knocked back and frozen to the wall the rest of the day.”
She crossed her arms. “I wish you would. Some sign of life would be encouraging. Any sign of life.”
I glared at her, then flopped back down and burrowed once more. “Try it.”
The bed shifted as her weight sank next to my back, and her arm came to rest on my shoulder. Her voice was suddenly low and soothing. “I’m worried about you, Finn. Really I am.”
“Whatever, Cate. This strategy change doesn’t become you. Go back to threatening me like a six-year-old. It suits you better.”
“Iamworried. You never go in to help Mom and Cynthia at the bakery. You don’t eat. You come home in the late hours of the morning, if you bother to come home at all.”
