Do you really think she’s going to ghost us?
Cipher:
I think she’s smart. Which means she’ll run.
Whisper:
Not if we catch her first.
I shut down the thread before he could reply. I don’t need his brand of pessimism this morning.
The loft settles into the kind of quiet that makes every thought in my mind louder, practically screaming to get out. Kieran hasn’t left his room, so he’s definitely still sleeping. Silas is probably working through some code he doesn’t need to touch just to keep his hands busy and his eyes open. He’ll fight sleep until it drags him under with force.
I keep thinking about Eris… About the way she said my name, and how I felt hearing it fall from her lips. About the way she tasted, the way we moved in sync. Familiar. Not like a first-time fling or a one-time kind of hookup.
I don’t want her to feel guilty. And I hope Silas didn’t draw a new line we’re going to have to cross… The last thing I want is for her to stop talking to us because she thinks HimLock feels jealous over a situation it shouldn’t know anything about.
I just want to find my way back to her. Not to explain. Not yet.
Telling her the truth would be the best course of action, though somehow it seems both too soon and too late.
But if she walks away now, before she knows who we are, before she decides to stay, we’ll lose her.
And after last night… After knowing what it’s like to have her in my arms, close enough to breathe the same air, I’m not willing to let her go.
As soon as Silas lays eyes on her, he’ll change his mind, too.
Then she’ll be ours.
Roo is already at our usual cafe, sunglasses oversized and mood criminal. I sort of want to turn around and go home before I catch her attitude, but the demon in luxury clothing has already spotted me.
She waves with her coffee like she’s conducting an orchestra. “Look who finally showed up, walking like she survived the apocalypse under a horse instead of on top of it.”
“Don’t start,” I mutter, sliding into the chair across from her.
The metal legs scrape the tile, a sound too sharp for the hour. A few curious eyes turn my way, but the stares don’t last once the Russian profanities begin.
“Don’t start,” I repeat, singing the words with a fake smile.
“Oh, I’m starting.” She leans back, primly crossing her legs, the picture of smug composure. “You disappeared with a stranger last night. Then you didn’t answer any of my texts this morning. Now, look at you. No lipstick. No sass. No coherent sentences in yourI survived a manoutfit. Spill the tea.”
I look down into my drink like the foam might whisper me an escape route into existence.
Roo takes one long sip of her iced coffee as she appraises me. “So… Did you die? Or did he make you see God?”
I groan at her volume and glance around us. “Why are you like this?”
“Because one of us has to be emotionally well-adjusted, and clearly it’s not you.”
I roll my eyes but can’t stop the corner of my mouth from twitching.
Roo leans forward, elbows on the table. “Was it the guy from the bar? The one with the mouth?”
“They all have mouths.”
“Unfortunately,” she drawls in response. “Don’t avoid my question and don’t lie, either. I saw the eye contact. That man looked at you like he already had your birth chart and your mom’s favorite meal.”
I exhale ridiculously slowly to prepare for her storm of bullshit. “Yes. Him.”
