“Yeah. Fine.”
2
EVAN
My heart is beating a mile a minute as I head down the hall toward the kitchen. I need vodka, and I need it fast. It has been a total mind-fuck of a day. From getting fired at work, to having Trace knock on my door again, and then to have my best friend, Jericho Whilde, show up out of the blue…
Only, he didn’t just “show up.” No. Jericho literally tore the door down and killed Trace right in front of me.
That definitely calls for a drink.
Jericho's footsteps are nearly nonexistent on the carpet as he follows me, which is crazy. He’s such a big man, his presence so demanding that he’s never been capable of being subtle.
I pour myself a glass of Smirnoff and wince at the burn as I toss it back. I offer Jericho a shot too, but he shakes his head. Can he even drink alcohol yet? New vamps typically can’t eat human food for a few years, but some adjust more quickly than others. At least, that’s what I’ve been told.
I can’t look away from him, still reeling from the fact that he’s evenhere.For a long time, I just stare at him, his clenched teeth and fisted hands. It’s not that I'm not happy to see Jericho—I’m thrilled, actually—I just don't know what to think about it yet. I wasn’t prepared to see him tonight. And I sure as fuck wasn’t prepared to drink his blood to save my own life.
Just… damn. Did that really happen?
I wipe my mouth, remembering the bittersweet taste of his blood. It wasn’t like mine—not metallic or sharp. Just, different.
Jericho has definitely changed these last ten months. His arms and chest have filled out and his black hair has gotten longer, making the curls in the back even more noticeable. They fit him somehow, though, giving him a softer edge. Revealing more of his true heart. Because deep down, Jericho is as sweet as they come, and he’s loyal too. Which is why it confused the hell out of me when he’d told me over the phone that he was in Prodigy for a job interview. No warning or explanation. Just a statement that things would be changing.
It gutted me. I never expected him to leave without telling me.
Jericho's skin seems different too. Healthy and smooth. Not oily like it had been before. His eyes are the most startling. I’d noticed them as he fed me his blood. They aren't that perfect shade of seafoam green anymore, but a cold, deep emerald. It’s the only thing about this new Jericho I’m not sure I like.
“Why haven't you answered my calls? Or any of my texts?” I finally ask. “And don't say you didn't get them, because I know you did.” Every green checkmark as my texts were read but unanswered felt like a punch to the gut. I didn’t understand it. I still don’t.
Jericho stands across the small kitchen from me, crossing his arms in a way that takes me right back to another time. When we used to party and hang out together for hours, not giving a flying fuck about the world at large. It was always us. Just us.
It feels like a lifetime ago.
He shrugs. “I didn't know what to say.”
I scoff. “How about, 'I'm alive,' for starters?”
Jericho grimaces.
“Don’t you get it? I thought you were dead. When you didn’t come back from that interview, I thought something happened to you. But then I saw you in Prodigy, and I…” I shake my head, hating the bitter memories. I haven’t slept at all since that day. “How long have you been back in Comstead, anyway?”
He hesitates. “About a month.”
I suck in a breath. He’s been here amonthand he hasn't even tried to see me? That hurts worse than when he left. “Were you in Prodigy the whole time otherwise?”
“Yes. Mostly.”
“Why, though? The company you interviewed with said they never offered you the job. So why did you stay?”
He seems surprised. “You talked to them?”
“Of course I did!” I snap. “It was the first place I went as soon as I got there! Even before checking in to the fucking hotel.”
Jericho looks away, his nostrils flaring. I don’t know why it surprises him that I drove across state lines to find him. Wouldn’t he do the same for me? We’re best friends, for fuck’s sake.
Or we were.
Shit, it kills me to think that might have changed. Makes it hard to breathe. Does Jericho not want this anymore?
