Junes. How I once longed to invite a certain alpha who called me that into my nest, to hearhisapproval. Still, I can’t help but preen at Simon’s.
“You’re really good at this,” I admit. “Dealing with emotional omegas.”
“Ellie has given me alotof practice.”
“You’re a good brother.”
He rubs at the back of his neck, suddenly bashful. “I try.” He reaches for his laptop but doesn’t open it.
“Dig before or after dinner?”
“Is it cowardly that I want to wait?”
Itfeelscowardly, like whatever courage carried me through midterms has all but vanished.
“You don’t think he’s guilty…”
“I don’t know, Simon. I… I broke up with him Sunday afternoon.”
“Oh, kit-kat. What happened?”
I swallow hard. “He was lying to me about so many things. But Simon, whatever the police think he did… I’m his alibi. A mage inspector questioned me this morning about his whereabouts.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Yeah. The mage inspector wouldn’t tell me what they were charging him with, but Luca has a record. If he’s found guilty and gets put away again, it’ll be for good. And I can’t face that prospect yet.”
Even though he lied to me. Even though he may have been among the mages that attacked me. I beg the saints that it’s not all true, but even my cracked, naive heart won’t let me believe it. Deep in my gut, I know there was something he wasn’t telling me.
“Shit, Junie. I can’t even imagine. All right, I’ll start the script, because breaking through the police department’s firewalls may take some time, but we don’t dig until after pizza. And while we wait, we make s’mores. Deal?”
I force a small smile. “Deal.”
Simon opens his laptop, types for a few minutes, and then sets his laptop aside. Out of sight, but not out of mind.
“All right, so I have no idea if this is going to work or if I’m going to set the dorms on fire, but…” He digs around in his desk drawer and finally draws out a colorful box of chocolates and a box of graham crackers.
“I’ve never had a s’more before, actually.”
“Yeah, because your father is history’s greatest criminal. You didn’t even get to do, like, nature scouts?”
“Nope.”
He passes me one of the candies. “Ptasie Mleczko. It means ‘bird’s milk,’ but let’s pretend it doesn’t, because I really want to like these, so we can try the frappe and caramel ones next.”
The chocolate is smooth and creamy and the vanilla marshmallow absolutely decadent. “Oh, saints. Yeah. We need the frappe and caramel, too.”
Simon grins and then pulls out the graham crackers, carefully breaking two in half. He frowns down at them, then sets a chocolate-covered marshmallow on each, heating them until they melt with a quick spell. He sandwiches the s’mores together and hands me one. “Not traditional, but until the next bonfire, it’ll do.”
The s’more is sticky and sweet, the graham crackers the perfect counterpoint to the rich chocolate and marshmallows. At my pleading look, Simon chuckles and hands over the other before making himself another one.
“Everything you ever dreamed of and more?”
I know he means the s’mores, but sharing them with him in a blanket fort nest? It really is.
* * *
We’re just finishingup our pizza when Simon’s computer chimes. He grimaces, cleans his hands with a spell and a paper napkin, and then hauls it onto his lap. He frowns and taps at a few keys and then does something I’ve never seen a mage do before: he murmurs a spell and magic flows from his fingertips into his computer.
