Rachel is super chill. Nothing ruffles her. Nothing except Ethan, apparently. She stares at him, then at me, then back at him. Blushing to the roots of her hair, she needlessly pats down her neat french twist and offers him a coquettish smile. I scowl.
“What can I get for you, hon?” she asks in a singsong voice.
“I’ll have whatever she’s having.” He tips his chin toward me. “Including the coffee.”
“You got it, sugar.” Turning her back to him, Rachel mouthsoh my Godto me.
I put on a smile for her, which shuts off the moment she walks away. The impossible is happening. I’m untraceable—even by someone from the Shingae—unless ...no. The hair on the back of my neck rises, but I push aside my wild suspicions. There must be a logical,nonmagicalexplanation for how Ethan Lee is sitting in front of me.
The way his dark-brown eyes dart around my face reminds me of a man gulping down water after wandering the desert for days. A thousand butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I resist the urge to press the back of my hand against my heated cheeks.
“How did you find me?” I ask in a cool, hard voice to hide the confusion roiling inside me.
He goes completely still for a second, his unreadable gaze snagging on mine. He recovers so quickly that I would’ve missed his reaction if I’d so much as blinked. And I nearly forget what I saw when a sheepish smile spreads across his face, his eyebrows cresting above the bridge of his nose. A soft breath whooshes past my lips.
I remember his nose being strikingly perfect, straight and aristocratic, on his shuttered teenage face. But he’s broken it more than once since I last saw him. The slight bump suits him. It gives character to his too-perfect features—high cheekbones, wide lips, and dark eyebrows—and rescues him from being pretty. But it does nothing to change the fact that he’s gorgeous.
I stop myself short. Oh, he is good. He wields his charm like a finely honed weapon. I take note of it, then double down on my scowl. “Well?”
“Believe it or not, I’m quite good at my job,” he says, scratching the back of his head. With hisaww shuckssmile, he’s fucking endearing.
Stomping down on my instinct to melt into a puddle, I say, “So you became a PI.”
I feel a pinprick of disappointment, which is ridiculous. I haven’t thought about Ethan since I left Los Angeles when he was still a teenager. Well, I stubbornly turned my thoughtsawayfrom him and his older brother whenever they popped into my head. Same thing.
“Ben and I told you—no, begged you—notto follow in his footsteps.” The words are out before I can stop them. “You’re so smart. You could’ve been anything you wanted. A doctor, a rocket scientist—”
“You’re right.” His winning smile disappears, and a hard, unyielding glint enters his eyes. “I could’ve been anything I wanted, so I became the only thing I wanted to be.”
My nostrils flare with a sharp inhale, but I clamp my mouth shut. I. Don’t. Care. It’s none of my business. Instead, I ask him again, “How did you find me?”
“Call it a hunch.” He shrugs, but a muscle jumps in his jaw. My stomach dips. A hunch, like sixth sense or déjà vu, is a way humans try to explain the inexplicable—such as a brush with the Shingae. “Look, it’s not importanthowI found you. We should talk aboutwhy.”
“Fine. Tell me why you’re here.” I don’t say “and leave,” but the message is pretty clear. I just want him out of the quiet, dull life I’ve worked my tails off to cultivate. It doesn’t matter how he found me—even though not knowing makes my shoulders bunch up with tension—as long as he leaves.
He drags a hand over his short black hair, fingers spread wide, as though he expected to find a full head of hair. So it’s a recent haircut. I liked the long mop of curls he used to have, but I might like his hair better this way. The thick, silken strands would feel warm and smooth between my fingers ... I jerk my thoughts back. Since when do I notice people’s hair?
Since this man walked back into my life.
I swallow and shift in my seat. I don’t understand my reaction to him. My body feels like ... like a live wire. It’s strange but not unpleasant. Having lived for over a century, I thought I’d forgotten how to feel surprised. But this is definitely new and surprising. I can’t decide if I like it or not, but it definitely makes me feel off kilter.
“I need your help.” His eyes bore into me with an intensity that holds me hostage, erasing every other thought from my head. I blink to break the connection.
Taking a deep breath, I focus on the task at hand. He didn’t try to bullshit me or make small talk to soften me up. He’d always been straightforward to the point of being blunt. But I always respected him for that—for facing everything head on. I take another moment to consider his request.
“No.” Just because I appreciate his directness doesn’t mean I’ll help him. I left Los Angeles eight years ago for a reason.
I had answered the wanted ad on a whim. I was tired of working at restaurants with aspiring actors and models. They wanted to shine,when all I wanted was to disappear. Ben was a young, up-and-coming PI, whose business was growing faster than he could handle. His ad said he needed an assistant to answer phone calls and file paperwork. It sounded like a nice, dead-end job. My favorite kind.
I never signed up to become his friend, but that’s what happened. There were many late nights, so it made sense for us to have dinner together. And it made sense for Ben to discuss his cases with me from time to time and for me to nudge him in the right direction. My hunter’s instinct was sharper than ever.
And it was hard to ignore his teenage brother, since he came to the office every day after school. So when I caught Ethan cleaning up his cuts and bruises one day, it made sense for me to drag the truth out of him—how he’d been bullied ever since they moved to LA after their parents died. An orphaned Korean kid with only an older brother to call family made an easy target. Since he refused to tell Ben, it also made sense for me to teach Ethan how to fight off the assholes at school.
By the time Ethan was sixteen, already over six feet tall, he easily fought off the bullies—four, five at once—until no one dared to pick on him again. He even occasionally bested me during sparring. I never took it easy on him, only held back my preternatural speed and strength. Based on skills and technique, the student had become better than the teacher.
It hit me one night that I had stayed too long. It was nothing really. Ben and I were stealing fries off each other’s plates when it escalated into a food fight. Ethan laughed so hard that soda came out his nose. The quiet sixteen-year-old rarely laughed those days, so Ben was thrilled to get a peek at the younger brother he used to know. I took in the scene with a smile and realized I was ... happy.
I was growing too attached to Ben and Ethan, and it terrified me. I swore to never care about anyone again—to never grieve a loss again. I had to cut ties before it was too late. I left before the sun rose the next morning. But ... leaving them hurt. I don’t want a repeat now. I can’t let them back into my life.
