“I don’t want them to know,” he said again, and this time his voice caught.
“Tai, I don’t know what terrible thing you think will happen, but you’re doing them a disservice. My friends are kind, fair people. They’ll understand.”
He shook his head.
“For crying out loud, do you expect them to order your execution or what?”
Now he glared at her, and this was no less intense than the rest of the emotions flickering over his face. “Of course not.”
“Then what? I’m standing here telling you they will understand. But it’s going to be a hard sell that I just ‘misunderstood some things’ if I can’t tell them what those things are.”
“No. I—” His voice broke again. He scrubbed a hand down his face and stared up at the lightening sky. He spoke his next words toward the wispy clouds. “I can’t.” Then he faced her again. “I know it makes things awkward for you, but I can’t.”
It wasn’t about awkwardness for her. It was about understanding for him, acceptance, maybe even friendship and community where he didn’t have to hide his struggle. She opened her mouth to say so, but he didn’t let her.
“Claire, please. I need this. Please.”
He sounded on the edge of real panic. Claire wrapped her arms around him and rested her chin on his shoulder. “It’s okay. We’re okay. I’ll honor your wishes, always.”
“Thank you,” he whispered.
“Breathe, Tai.”
He did, once, twice, ragged, then calm. His fingers brushed her hair, and she pulled back to meet his eyes. Standing on the sidewalk beneath the branches of a spreading oak tree, they kissed. Tai’s hand cupped the back of her neck, and his other hand pressed her lower back, pulling her closer, closer. Claire tried to give him everything in her kiss—a promise of safety with her, a promise always to hear him, to accept everything that made him who he was, all the beautiful pieces and all the jagged ones too. Tai responded as if he knew what she wanted to give him. His mouth didn’t harden, didn’t push them into a competition of intensity. Instead he softened. He accepted her safety.
“I don’t know everything you’ve been through,” she said when the kiss ended. “I hope someday I will. But for today, just remember I don’t leave the people I care about, and I care about you.”
He leaned his shoulders against the trunk of the tree as though he needed the support. Claire tugged his hand, and together they sat under the tree, legs stretched in front of them. Dew seepedinto the legs of her yoga pants, and she drew her knees up. Tai did the same, and his knee brushed hers.
“Okay, new plan,” she said. “I’ll tell the group what I told Philippa tonight: I misjudged some things. Private things. I’ll tell them that circumstances changed for you, and at the time you weren’t able to explain, but you have now, and I’ve accepted your apology.”
Tai nodded. “Thank you.”
It still sounded too vague. Her friends would clamor for details and be suspicious when she couldn’t provide them. Shoot, Nova might go into full-on investigative journalist mode. But her friends also trusted her judgment. Claire was known for loyalty, yes, but also for her careful decisions. It would have to be enough.
“There’s one person I do need to tell,” she said.
His shoulders tensed. “Who?”
“Ember. She’s been my friend since grade school, Tai. We’ve told each other every important thing and a lot of unimportant things for the last twenty years. I want to talk all this out with her, and I want her to know that as of this week, there’s someone in my life who…who I see possibilities with.”
He was quiet only a few moments, maybe because Ember lived in another state, hardly knew Tai at all. “Yeah. Go ahead and talk to her. I know this is a lot. I’m…a lot.”
“You’re a lot of smart, smooth people skills. You’re a lot of deep heart. You’re a lot of musical talent. Sometimes you’re a lot of stubborn smirking annoyance.”
He gave a low laugh that seemed to curl in the hushed morning air. It was still too early for cars to pass through the neighborhood, but sitting outside under a tree wasn’t fully private. As unlikely as it was that any vampires listened in from the nearest houses, Claire tried to phrase things vaguely justin case. The friend group should know about his condition, but random strangers? Not so much.
“I know your struggle has molded you, is part of who you are—a big part, I guess. But it’s not the sum of you. It’s still only a part.”
“I can’t be bloodbound, Claire.”
Her head swiveled toward him at the conversational whiplash. He was already looking at her, his eyes filled with melancholy. She reached for his hand, laced her fingers through his.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“The bite. I don’t know how it would affect me.”
Was Peter bloodbound? She didn’t think so. That didn’t mean Tai was right. “If you don’t know, then it’s possible you can.”
