“That’s fine. Let’s go back to the empathy part. Some people put on a show for themselves. Some buy into that show for the rest of their lives. It’s not authentic and they’re unhappy. You’veput on a show, too, but you have slowly come to disbelieve it. Your dragon has not bought into it at all.”
“And that’s why he cut me off and went silent?”
“Maybe. You’ll have to ask him.”
The session went longer. But Jacob never flinched. Never judged. When he showed me out, he walked with me to the door. He reassured me again that I was making progress.
Everything we’d discussed wrestled inside me, strange and uneasy. Truths that tried not to be true. Feelings that were a little too assertive. The beginnings of shaky understandings I didn’t like.
I got into my car and drove straight to the nearest bar. I didn’t want to go back to the house yet. Cassius was there. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him there. The opposite of that was the truth. I wanted him. So I’d gone straight to Brimstone and gotten him.
When the bartender stopped serving me, I realized I was too drunk to drive home. I had not allowed myself to get drunk like this in months. I’d made one step forward, then went out after my session and took multiple steps back.
Progress, my ass.
20
Cassius
Ishouldn’t have run. I should have faced him. But the broken sphere and the way he stared—I couldn’t help it.
This was the second time we’d faced each other over broken glass.
The moment I ran past him was when I realized he was drunk. I wanted to turn around and go back, reach out. If I touched him on the hand or the arm, maybe then he’d believe how sorry I was, that I meant no harm. That I had only been admiring the lights in the sphere.
All that action remained in my mind. My body was too afraid to cooperate.
I ran to my room.
I expected him to come to my door, knock, pound, yell. Nothing happened. I didn’t even hear his footsteps in the hall.
It was late. Still fully clothed, I lay down on my bed and fell asleep staring at the curved piece of glass on the nightstand.
Early in the morning, I woke. The world was a confused blur. My heart jumped. I thought I was back at Brimstone for a moment. When my mind cleared, the broken glass, like part of an eggshell, flashed in my eyes. I needed to make this right.
I got up, showered, dressed and went downstairs.
Everything was quiet. Almost too quiet. My guilt made me paranoid. I shook it off and went into the kitchen.
Yesterday, during my time alone, I’d ordered some groceries. Malin had said I could when I’d suggested I could make breakfast.
I moved around the kitchen getting out everything I needed. I made a huge pot of coffee because if he had any kind of hangover, that would be a necessity.
It was easy to become comfortable with his hardly-used kitchen. He hadn’t really made it his so I didn’t feel intrusive. I lost myself in getting to know where everything was. If something essential was missing, I made a mental note to order it when I had the time. Like an egg whisk. Sure, I could use a fork to mix the eggs, but I liked whisks.
I made two large omelets. They contained cheese, sliced tomatoes, bacon, and mushrooms. They smelled amazing.
No sign of Malin yet so I put them on a plate in the oven on the warming program to keep them fresh and hot. Next came the hashbrowns and they went into the oven as well. Then I sliced fruit of all kinds and mixed it into a bowl.
The coffee was hot now. I set the table. Poured the orange juice. I made fresh toast and watched the butter melt into the browned centers.
Malin didn’t show.
Finally, I got out one of the omelets and some hashbrowns and served myself. As I took my first bite of the omelet, the tastes of it landing on my tongue perfect the way I liked, I heard footfalls on the stairs.
Malin came into the dining room, his dark eyes glancing quickly at the table and toward the strong scent of coffee in the kitchen. He avoided looking at me. I watched him, refusing to duck my head as I usually did. The guilt still swam in my chest over breaking something valuable to him, but I wanted to own up to it. I wasn’t at Brimstone any longer where the punishments could be severe and unfair. This was the house of a real alpha, a man, a guy who’d gone out of his way to purchase me for a sum I still couldn’t understand. It occurred to me for the first time, almost smugly, that he could easily replace that sphere.
“Fresh coffee is in the kitchen,” I said, surprised at the strength in my tone.
