Wait, maybe he was just throwing out a red herring?
Still, she hated feeling as if she were back on a precipice, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d lived with that sensation for most of her life, yearning to be accepted for who she was.
No, dammit!She shook her head.This is Lore, not my grandmother!
He wasn’t anything like Nan. He’d proven that.
Man, she hated that her trust issues always got in the way.
Blowing out a rough breath, Nia hurried inside and quietly shut the door before they sensed her, the ruined pillow clutched to her chest.
Downstairs, she tossed the pillow on the couch and headed for the kitchen. Too on edge to eat, she grabbed an orange soda from the fridge and returned to the living room.
She rolled the can on her hot face as she paced along the series of arched windows, waiting for Lore. Exhaling, she opened one. A chilly gust stung her cheeks, but even that didn’t ease the knots forming in her stomach.
She popped the tab on her drink, gulped some of the ice-cold soda, and crossed to the air hockey table on the opposite side of the living room. Setting the can aside, she turned on the machine, tossed the puck to the center, grabbed the striker, and slammed it. The puck crashed into the far side before sliding back to her.
As she repositioned the puck again, she sensed Lore approaching. He skirted the perimeter of the sunken living room, stopping on the other side of the hockey table.
Fighting for calm, she picked up her can and took another swallow, but the soda tasted like bitter rinds.
“That was Jehoel,” he said.
Nia waited. Not that Lore said much when it came to angel business.
He picked up the other striker, an unsettling quietness to him as he stared at it. Since it didn’t seem like he would speak, she’d have to break the silence.
Not sure how to start, she asked, “Want to play?”
He shook his head.
“Fine. I’d kick your ass, anyway.” She set her can down, gripped her striker, and shot the puck toward him. It hit the wood and returned to her in a flash.
She looked up and found him watching her. Lately, there had been some softness in his gaze whenever he looked at her…and now? Nothing.
The churning in her belly twisted into a ball of dread at the distance widening between them. Hell, his entire being had closed off. So sure her legs would cave, Nia gripped the edges of the table and blurted, “I overheard your conversation with him.”
His eyes narrowed, and his nostrils flared slightly. He glanced at the ruined pillow she’d tossed on the couch, then back at her.
“Did you mean all that?”
He straightened and dropped the striker. It clattered against the wood like a harbinger. “Let it go, Nia.”
“It’s a straight yes or no, Lore. How hard is that? I’m not asking for a commitment. God forbid.”I just want to know I matter, even a little.
He stared at her for another second, no doubt picking up on her thoughts. “I’m here to protect you in any way I can.” His expression morphed to complete coldness, like the angel she first met. “That is my job, first and foremost. It’s not like you didn’t know that.”
His impassive and callous tone was like a punch in the gut. He had no reason to pretend, no one to impress, now that it was just her.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispered, her eyes stinging, praying she could keep the tears at bay.
“Don’t I?” Cold, so cold. His stare bore into hers. “Did you think this was something permanent? Yes, angels have been known to stray. But my life is in service to the Celestial Realm, as it has been for millennia.”
Nia opened her mouth to spew out her hurt and anger, but his utter indifference killed her voice. Nothing would change his stance or eliminate his cruel words.
Tears welled.
“I see.” She marched off, heading straight for the kitchen. But her legs carried her straight outside into the chilly, dense mist, needing distance so she wouldn’t break down in front of him.
