ChapterTen
James strodeinto the bedroom he’d been using, itching to slam the door.
When last had he slammed a door? Certainly never in the silent tomb of his parents’ house and never, ever in Gordon’s pristine mansion. Gordon would have been incensed. And James had been too terrified to do anything that might anger the only person who stood between him and living on the street.
He’d been fifteen years old. He’d only just survived the brutality of his parents’ divorce and their complete abandonment. He knew what it was to be unwanted and unloved. And he’d been determined not to lose the only place he had left. He’d decided, early on, that he would prove to Gordon he was good enough to keep.
Even just thinking about it now made his skin itch. Shame and frustration seethed in his belly, writhing into the ever-present mess of self-hatred and recrimination. He would have been better off on the street. Then he would never have helped Gordon. And he would never have had to see the look of disgust on Riley’s face as she stared at his Shadows.
James collapsed on the bed and rolled onto his side to stare at the wall with his back to the door.
When he was a Guardian, he would never have lain like this, unable to see the room. Unable to check for danger. He would never have let himself be so vulnerable in Gordon’s house either… and yet Gordon had deceived him anyway.
When he’d first woken in Bryn’s spare room after the blood Shadows had been ripped out of him, his veins on fire, his skin crawling, and nightmare visions crushing him, he’d lain just like this. He hadn’t cared whether danger might be creeping up behind him. And he hadn’t seen the point in watching for it. He had never trusted Gordon, and yet, somehow, Gordon had turned him into a puppet anyway.
It was no wonder that Riley was disgusted by him. He was disgusted too.
A light tap at the door told him that Kay had arrived. It could only be her. Everyone else left him more or less alone. Ethan had forgiven him—he said he had, anyway—but he tended to let James have the space he insisted he wanted. Zach was trying, but he was, rightly, focused on Emma. And Elizabeth was dealing with her own shit.
He wasn’t going to think about Riley. It hurt too much.
He shoved his arm over his eyes and wished he were asleep. Maybe if he was quiet enough, she would leave him alone. The door creaked open a crack—of course it did. Kay never let him wallow—but he didn’t turn over.
“I’m sorry, Kay,” he muttered to the wall. It was easier to stare at the blank white space than face the friend who had stood beside him despite everything he’d done. “I just….” What could he say? He’d failed in every possible way, and the proof was right there in his Shadows for everyone to see. “I’m sorry.” He let out a rough breath. “I need a moment alone. I’ll help with the midnight shift, whichever patrol no one else wants. Or write me a list, and I’ll get to it.”
“It’s not Kay,” a quiet voice murmured, and he flinched. A part of him almost wished it were Kay so that he didn’t have to deal with whatever new kind of torture this was going to be.
He twisted his head to look over his shoulder at Riley. She looked tired. Dark rings smudged the skin beneath her eyes and her expression was wary. God. He wanted to scoop her up and cradle her in his arms, tuck her head under his chin, and tell her that he would never let her go again. That he would do whatever she needed to soothe that bruised look in her eyes.
“I’m sorry, James.” Her voice was low but firm. And her words were the last words he’d imagined her saying.
He turned then, shocked, and pushed himself up to sit on the side of the bed. He looked up at her, his head already shaking in denial. “What? No. You don’t have to—”
“I do.”
Riley took a tiny step deeper into the room, and his Shadows surged inside him, desperate to reach out to her. But he held them locked down. He’d lost that right.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just surprised.” Riley tucked her thumbs into her pockets, her shoulders straightening in the way that told him she was preparing for a difficult discussion. He’d seen her put her hands into the pockets of her scrubs just like that enough times to know. It was her Healer expression.
He didn’t know which he hated more. Her horror earlier or her professional detachment now.
“I understand,” he said softly. And he did. As much as he wished he didn’t. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.” He let out a shuddering breath, waiting for her to nod, take the forgiveness, and leave.
But instead, she blinked, frowning. “I think we should talk about what happened.” Her voice was cool. Controlled. “You need to know—”
He stood, cutting her off. He’d lost her again and again. His Shadows were in a state of complete turmoil. And the very last thing he needed was to hear her reasons for why he was broken. Or her plan to save him from himself.
“I don’t want to know.” His voice cracked and he shoved his hands into his own pockets so that he couldn’t reach out and touch her. He’d promised that he wouldn’t. “You don’t owe me anything, Riley. We had…. We….” He cleared his throat, trying to relieve the tension that held his words locked in his throat. “We said goodbye.”
Her eyes narrowed, a flush climbing up the creamy skin of her neck, and for the first time, she looked like Riley—hisRiley—and not some Healer coming by to check on him.
She blinked rapidly as if fighting some kind of inner argument, and she started to turn. But then she stopped, spun back to face him, and glared. “Yousaid goodbye, not me,” she growled.
James winced. That was true. He had said goodbye. She hadn’t. She didn’t…. Wait. Was this her way of saying she didn’t want to say goodbye? Or was this her way of saying goodbye now? He stilled, his eyes locked on hers. “What does that mean?”
“You pushed me away,” Riley snapped, avoiding his question. “Again and again. And I want to know why.”
“Why! Why do you think?”
