Lucinda is the first to stand, and I’m surprised to feel more nervous about seeing her than I felt about seeing Striker again tonight.
I have to admire the way she fights her natural inclination to take my hands as she steps toward me.
Unlike Striker, whose emotions have remained closed off to me since he let go of my hand, the feelings of everyone else in this room are clear to me.
“Peyton,” Lucinda says. “You look well.”
They’re all smiling at me, and I sense the peace and solidarity between them.
“You too,” I say.
“Come sit with us.” She inclines her head at an empty spot on the couch. “Striker, will you…?”
“I’ll get you a drink,” Striker says to me. “Water? Juice? Something stronger?”
“Water, please. Alcohol and Furies don’t mix.”
“That’s interesting,” Ashley says as I take a seat and keep to the far edge of the couch. “Alcohol has no effect on me. I may as well drink soda water.”
Lachlan grins beside her. “I’m with Peyton. Alcohol is a no-go for me.”
“Oh, boy, I knowthat.” Ashley laughs as she plants a kiss on his cheek. “You’re never drinking beer again.” She turns back to me. “Hesang. All night long. Kept everyone awake. Even the kids wanted to escape to the quiet rooms.”
“Kids? Quiet rooms?” I ask.
“Here. I’ll show you. We brought photos.” Lucinda flicks through her phone before she hands it over. “That’s the Academy now.”
As I swipe through the images, I don’t recognize the place where I once lived. “May I see it for myself sometime?”
“We’d like that.” Lucinda blinks rapidly. Her emotions and all of the hope she’s feeling are completely open to me.
I remind myself not to preempt her thoughts as she struggles to contain her happiness.
She clears her throat. “Bree and Ryan wanted to be here, but they’re on an important reconnaissance mission for you-know-who. They’ll be happy to see you when you visit.”
The conversation turns from secret missions to tween-rearing to Alison’s cooking—I’m glad she’s stayed at the Academy, cooking up a storm, it seems.
Striker remains in the background, never intruding, quietly bringing me food and drinks.
As the night grows darker outside, I find a warmth growing inside my heart, empty spaces that are filling up.
By the end of the evening, I’ve arranged to visit the Academy next week, and Hunter has interjected into the conversation to demand that I come back to Saber Lane, too.
Cain and Archer are the first to leave, both bleary-eyed.
“Quinn isnotsleeping well right now,” Archer says, dropping a kiss to Hunter’s cheek before Cain hands Archer their baby girl.
Hunter and Slade soon say goodnight, and so do my monster friends. Striker tells them he’ll have his car take them to their hotel before they continue back to Boston tomorrow.
I wait uncertainly for him to return from the front of the house, tapping the side of my water glass.
I should feel calm—everything around me is tranquil—but there’s a rising anxiety inside me, an agitation that I can’t place.
Possibly, it’s because ever since Striker shut down his emotions upstairs, I can’t get a read on him.
Everyone else’s heart is bare to me with all their complexities of dark and light, but Striker’s thoughts are a mystery.
He returns to the doorway, standing in the shadows for the first time tonight. He took off his jacket a while ago and rolled up his sleeves, indicating that he may yet be more comfortable in workout gear.
