Now that was a superpower I would kill for.
He pulled away, and I took a sip of water to dilute the mounting acid in my stomach. Now that my adrenaline was starting to fade, I could tell I was going to pay for tonight’s events. I’d have to break out the big guns when I got home and numb myself with the only heavy-duty pain med that, so far, hadn’t worsened my symptoms.
Theo laughed at something my dad said, and I glanced sideways. From looking at him, you’d never know he didn’t belong. That he hadn’t grown up in this world. As I’d feared earlier, he was a near-perfect mimic of manners and behaviors. Hell, even his facial expressions fit. That borderline lazy, self-satisfied grin. The quirk of his brow as he lobbed a comment at my mom. My gaze fell to his hands, and I noticed how perfectly he held his fork and knife.
Agreeing to help him entrap some of these people was probably going to blow up in my face—with Theo, I was more convinced than ever that nothing was quite what it seemed—but right now, I couldn’t drum up any worry or regret.
Instead, a sense of righteousness had settled over me. It was a relief to stop fighting him, to stop flailing and grasping at straws as I tried to find some way out of this. Choosing to actively take part felt so much better, and that had less to do with the path of least resistance and more to do with the fact that I might finally get to act on the anger I’d harbored all my life. To have an outlet for it instead of turning it inward like I’d done my entire childhood. To reclaim my agency, stepping out of the role of victim and into that of the aggressor.
Sure, I was probably undoing half a decade of growth achieved through hard work and therapy, but you know what? None of that self-improvement felt half as rewarding as the promise of revenge. And maybe that was wrong, maybe it made me a terrible person, but I didn’t really care.
I was on some vigilante shit now, and it feltgood.
I’d have to thank Runa later for helping me put together the list I could now act upon. I was even a little grateful to Maddie, because she’d just made it clear that she would never,everchange. That she’d never be a better person. The more she got away with, the worse she’d become, and I knew for damn sure that she was far from the worst monster in this crowd.
Runa was right. So was Theo. If the law wouldn’t make them pay for what they’d done, someone else should.
“Lobster puff?” a voice said.
I turned to see a server leaning in with a tray full of appetizers.
“Oh, no thank you,” I said. “Actually, could you have the chef make me a peanut butter and banana sandwich? On plain white bread?”
She nodded. “Absolutely.”
“Thank you.” My stomach was starting to grumble, which was bad. An empty stomach meant an acid-filled stomach, and I needed to put something in it. Soon.
“Tell me you’re going to eat more than that,” Theo said, his tone almost pleading, and for some reason it felt like the wordsAfter what I told you in the carhung heavy between us.
“She can’t,” my mother answered him. “She’s in a flare.”
“Mom,” I hissed, leaning forward to shoot a warning look at her. At least no one else had heard her. Between the servers offering food and the innumerable conversations surrounding us, her voice hadn’t carried more than a few feet.
She waved me off, her focus on Theo. “She refuses to tell anyone when they hit, but I know the signs. Get your phone out, and I’ll tell you what to watch for so you can recognize them.”
I glanced past her, silently begging Dad for help.
“Georgie,” he said, a note of rebuke in his tone.
“No,” Mom told him. “Theo needs to know these things so he can take care of herwhen she refuses to take care of herself.”
The last part was said with a scathing look in my direction, and I leaned back in my seat, knowing this was an argument I wouldn’t win.
Theo gave me a curious glance as he pulled out his phone, and I assumed he was looking me over for signs of sickness.
That was the thing about a lot of chronic illnesses; they were invisible to the naked eye. Most of the time, I presented as a relatively healthy, albeit skinny woman, even when I was in a flare, because over the years, I’d learned to mask my pain, which wasn’t uncommon among the chronically ill. I couldn’t speak for everyone, but for me, I just didn’t see a reason to show outward signs of discomfort. What was the point? It wasn’t like there was anything anybody could do to ease my suffering, and talking about it was the last thing I wanted. Dwelling on it too much could spiral into fixation, which could raise my stress and result in prolonged symptoms.
So, despite my mother’s prodding, I had no plans to announce when I was in a flare. And Ididtake care of myself. Most of the time. But it wasn’t like the entire world stopped for me when my illness acted up. Ihadto keep working, had gotten damn good at managing my symptoms through it, was even better at avoiding anything that triggered it.
The only reason I was in a flare now was because of Theo.
I glanced over to see him taking notes while Mom talked, and the sight made me start my breathing exercises to keep from freaking out. She thought she was helping me, but she was doing the opposite. Most people would probably learn about my gastritis and shut up about food, but Theo? Despite our tentative truce, I worried he wouldn’t be able to resist his assholic tendencies and torment me over all the things I couldn’t eat or drink instead.
My gaze strayed toward my untouched champagne. I hadn’t had a drink in years because alcohol was one of my biggest triggers, and I had never hated that fact more than right now. I wished I could down it and take the edge off my anxiety. Even with my meds, I was struggling. Seeing all these people’s judgy faces, being back in this world, it brought up a lot of ugly memories. Not just that night with Runa, but all the stupid things I’d done at parties exactly like this one. All the reasons why I’d felt the need to numb myself in the first place.
Beside me, Theo tucked his phone back into his jacket pocket and sent me an unreadable look. Our eyes caught, and I had a flashback to the study and the low, masculine grunt he’d let out when I’d bit him. It sounded like he’dliked it.
“How are the lobster puffs?” I asked, dropping my eyes to his plate. He’d taken three of them and had already eaten one.
