Tears blotting her ice queen cheeks.
Her head held underwater, arms flailing as she struggles for breath. The last thought she’ll have before her body quits the fight, and the first thought she’ll have when she’s revived.Ifshe’s revived.
My smile slips as a sharp pinch needles deep within my gut. When blood drains from my face, I hide in the warmth of Zephyr’s neck. My lips are no more alive than the churn of a machine.
A hand clasps my shoulder, soft and delicate and warm—the silver band of a ring pressing through the cotton of my shirt. A princess-cut stone sets atop the band that’s feminine and fitting for Zephyr. Not like Luna’s ring, bulky gold with an emerald stone. Meaningful instead of ornamental. Lost. Stolentwice.
I promised myself I’d find it for her before I left.
I didn’t even look.
Zephyr pulls away. She lets out a half-hearted, bitter chuckle and turns her head when I look at her. “You’re thinking abouther, aren’t you?”
“What?”
She rolls her eyes and picks up her fork. Stabs the orange mush three times before it’s clear she doesn’t intend to eat it.
This again.
“Babe… I don’t even know who you’re referring to. Thegirl?”
Her jaw tight, she says nothing.
“I feel badly for her. Am I not allowed to feel badly for her?”
Her head tips back with a humorless laugh she doesn’t explain.
I smooth my hand over Zephyr’s back and scoot until my thigh is pressed against hers. “Sweetheart…Come on.”
“Are you using me?”
I widen my eyes. “What?”
When she finally turns to look at me, there’s suspicion written in every subtle crevice of her face. “The past few days, you’ve barely been here.”
“Zephyr.” I laugh. “I come here every chance I?—”
“But you haven’t beenhere.” She waves to the candlelit dinner. “Present.With me. Your head has been somewhere else, and yet, you show up anyway, asking me things just to tune me out… You’re using me. I know you’re using me. You just…” She shakes her head. Punches holes in a pea.
“If that’s the case, then why am I still here?”
“I don’t know, Sawyer.” She sets down her fork. “Why are you still here?”
“Because I care about you.”
My hands go up then fall to the table, dishes rattling. I speak with conviction. Passion, my eyes locked onto Zephyr’s.
Because it isn’t a lie—not fully.
Of courseI care about her, as a person. Zephyr is fun. She’s kind. We play make believeso welltogether in the imaginary world she’s constructed for herself.
She never challenges. She never judges.
She is Luna’s opposite in many ways. All the ways I havealwayspreferred.
So why then… Why is it Luna who won’t leave my head?
A horn draws both our attention to the small window lighting the basement. The muscles in my shoulders wind tight as the sharp needling sensation returns.
