Page 29

My feet are moving before my brain has finished arguing with them, and I drape myself into one of the chairs with all the melodrama of a two-hundred-year-old vampire contemplating eternity. Bri snorts and lifts the phone. As the shutter clicks, I catch myself laughing. Properly laughing. And it’s strange how light it feels. Things don’t feel quite so black and white anymore.

I’ve worn my anger like armour for so long I'd forgotten how heavy it is. It’s protected me, yes… But it’s also stopped me from living. And by the power of Jesus, Mary and the merciful Cher… I rather like living again.

Chapter 19

Bri

Within thirty seconds of entering Hall 2, Saint has transformed from human being into walking theatre production—clutching his chest like he’s just witnessed a divine intervention. I laugh so hard my ribs hurt.

It’s ridiculous how quickly my nerves disappear around him. He’s infectious like that. One minute I’m worrying whether I belong here, the next I’m perched on a fantasy throne while Saint insists on directing my ‘official royal portrait’ with all the confidence of someone who’s definitely never worked for Vogue but absolutely believes they should.

He’s impossible. Completely exhausting. And exactly what I need today. He drags us from set to set with the enthusiasm of a Labrador that’s just discovered an entire field of tennis balls. Every prop is the greatest thing he’s ever seen. Every backdrop deserves a photoshoot. And weirdly, being with him, I don’t even worry if anyone’s looking at me. I just have fun.

Even Ember is different here. No, not different… More herself. She disappears into the horror displays with the kind of quiet excitement only people who genuinely love something have. Every creature, every prop, every impossibly detailed set seems to pull another smile out of her. And watching her light up is probably my favourite part. Because this is Ember’s thing. This is a part of her.

At the lodge she’s careful. Like she’s always waiting for someone to tell her she’s too much. Here she’s completely absorbed, like someone finally built a place that speaks her language.

Lennie and Luna are different too, more outgoing, if that’s possible.

Everyone just seems lighter. Like they’ve all unconsciously let out a breath. Maybe that’s what conventions really are. A place where being intensely enthusiastic about something isn’t weird and nobody’s ‘too much.’

By the time we wander into Hall 1, the celebrity hall, it’s still unmistakably setup day. Crew members wheel cases between half-built autograph tables, banners are being hoisted into place, and someone is testing microphones on the main stage while security wander around with coffees in hand. It isn’t polished yet. It’s becoming.

My eyes drift across the guest banners, scanning them without actually seeing them until they snag on one. Jackson Shaw.

Tomorrow, this hall will be overflowing with people—endless autograph queues, photoshoots, and guest panels. And Jax will be here. Two whole halls away.

I won’t randomly bump into him. We won’t chat for hours and there will be no stupid jokes filling the gaps between the day. The thought surprises me because it’s unexpectedly disappointing. Huh…

I wonder if Enzo remembered to give him my book. I wonder if he’s opened it yet, and if he laughed at the inscription. I wonder if he’s reading it now, curled up somewhere at the lodge with a cup of tea. The image makes me smile. I wonder if he likes the book, oh god what if he hates it? I wonder if he’d tell me he hated it or if he’d lie and say he hasn’t had a chance to read it yet?

That’s an alarming amount of wondering for a man I've known approximately twenty-four hours.

What is wrong with me?

A lot actually but… Shut up Bri!

Chapter 20

Jax

The courtyard feels strangely quiet without everyone in it. The silence hanging off me as I stand staring at her door, my damp hair dripping onto the collar of my T-shirt. Bri and the others have already left. I was hoping to catch her after my shower and a surge of disappointment settles heavy in my chest. Which is ridiculous. I barely even know her. But still.

Settling into one of the chairs beneath the veranda, I pour myself a coffee from the cafetière Enzo left out. The warmth of the cup does little to quiet my thoughts though; my conversation with Lennie during our run this morning keeps replaying in my head.

I like Lennie. A lot, actually. He’s funny, sharp, easy to be around—like most Scotsmen. But underneath all of that this morning there’d been something else. Stress. The kind that sits behind someone’s eyes no matter how hard they try to joke through it. The more he talked, the more obvious it became there were massive pieces missing from whatever’s going on. He never outright said Luna is lying to him, but he didn’t have to. You could hear it in the pauses. In the way he kept trying to justify things that clearly didn’t make sense anymore.

I scrub a hand down my face. Could I help him? Pulling my phone from my pocket, I make the call before I can overthink it.

“Morning Jax,” Elijah answers.

“I need you to look into something discreetly for me.”

“What kind of something?”

I glance around the empty courtyard instinctively before continuing, quickly running through everything I know.

He sighs quietly. “You're sure about this?”