“I’ll admit, I’m not proud of this whatsoever, but I need to share the whole story,” I say with a dry laugh. Even though I’m not proud of how things went down, I wouldn’t take it back or change it if I could reverse time. “I asked them how they could move on so easily after their son was murdered. How could they vacation and party till the sun rose again when their son, their pride and joy, was killed under their nose? Almost as if?—”
“They were happy,” Layla finishes for me.
“Not one of my brightest moments, but what do you expect from an emotional twenty-year-old who lost her mate?” I shrug, trying to suppress the heat of embarrassment in my cheeks. I could only move on after that. My parents were so mad I’d spoken to the Barrows that way. They told me to drop the whole “he was murdered” act if I wanted to stay under their roof. None of them respected me, and instead of trying to be there for me or help me get better, they turned their backs on me.
I deserve better than that, so I left the same day, slept in my car until I found a cheap apartment in Rainfall. I deleted all my social media, got a new phone number, and have never been happier, even with a killer hot on my trail. I couldn’t have dreamed of a better turnout than the one I have.
“Why didn’t you take me with you?” The hurt in her eyes kills me. How I wish I could’ve taken her. I knew she loved me, in her own special way, but I hadn’t thought it was enough to want to leave with me.
“You weren’t legal. Eighteen is the minimum for a shifter to be considered an adult, and even then, your parents could’ve got the Council involved and won. You’re here now; that’s all that matters.”
“You would’ve taken me?”
“Of course.” I was young and had no business taking a fifteen-year-old with me, but if I could have, and Layla had wanted to, I would’ve taken her.
“I love you, Willow,” she murmurs, and I land a kiss on the top of her head.
“I love you too, Layla,” I say, taking a step back and sitting back down on her bed. Layla is probably the closest thing I have to a “normal” family, and I need to cherish her more if I want her to stick around.
“Plans for the rest of today?” I ask her, attempting to create some sort of normalcy in our conversation.
“I’ve got some practice to do. But that’s it.”
“For what?” I ask, scanning Layla’s vanity. There is some... skin? Or something that appears incredibly close to skin and a tattoo gun. “I thought you worked at the front desk?”
“I do, but Tracy, a tattoo artist at the shop, is teaching me to be an artist. She sees potential in me, or so she says,” Layla explains with a shy smile. She opens a drawer and shows me some... skin... she’s already practiced on. “She had me drawing lines and circles for forever, but I’ve gotten to practice on some faux skin.”
“Wow,” I say in surprise. She’s settling in, and it makes the bubble of sadness in me pop. She’s making a place for herself, here, with me.
“Tracy says I’ll catch on quickly, but all I do is practice since Ghost is out there, and I sure as shit don’t want him to know where we live. So, I stay home when I’m not at work to give him fewer opportunities to follow me and find you, practicing gives me something to do.” She pulls out gear I can’t name, but she’s happy. She glows as she preps her supplies and turns on her machine.
I find my way back into the hall, closing her door behind me and leaning against it. I find Eddie standing in the kitchen staring at me. I tilt my head in question. He jumps slightly, as if jumping out of a daze, and smiles. I return a smaller smile, but a smile, nonetheless.
Milo is a memory. One that wants to be left alone. It’s been easy to forget him, and that alone makes me … a horrible person. It gets worse when Eddie is around. Eddie makes me forget everything that is wrong and feel everything that is right.
“Willow.” His sing-song voice reaches my ears. I nod my head towards the living room, and we both make our way there. His eyes melt into mine as he walks into the living room. Sitting on the couch next to my feet, he trails a mindless hand up and down my shin as I reach for the book I left on the coffee table. It’s comforting to hold in my hand even if I have no intention of reading it.
“Are you reading the new book?” I ask, a flush covering my cheeks. I always resort to talking about a book, I can’t help it. The silence is eating at me and I can’t help but to fill it. “It’s okay if you haven’t. I was only wondering.” I don’t want to pressure him to read the book, but I’m excited now that I’ve gotten over the embarrassment. Milo never wanted to read books with me, not the kinds that I enjoyed anyway. Even when I offered to switch to the kinds of books we would read, he still declined—Oh gosh, that’s not fair. I can’t compare the two. I have got to stop. I shake my head as if it would erase the thought like an Etch a Sketch. I hear Eddie clear his throat, and I look at him again, my lips snapping shut.
“Yes, I’m on chapter two. They’ve met, and she hates him already. Are you sure this is a romance book?”
“You just wait. It’s a toned-down version of enemies-to-lovers. More like rivals-to-lovers,” I say, remembering how the story progresses.
“I’ll keep that in mind, but I wanted to ask you something else.”
“Yes, Eddie?”
“Go on another date with me?” His smile widens, and I’m confused. We already had a date planned, I thought, did hechange his mind about the mating ceremony already? I mean, that’s fine, but I didn’t think he’d change his mind this fast.
“A date?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“Where?”
“Let’s go right now,” he says, pulling me up by my hands off the couch.
“What about Layla?” I ask. We can’t leave her alone. Not when she thinks Ghost’s been following her.
