A place to belong. Ahome.
Temptation flares in me, so hot and intense that it steals my ability to breathe for a moment.
My whole life I’ve always been caught between two worlds, two parents, neither of whom wanted me the way that I was. But in this imaginary vision of what could be, I amenough. And that, way more than the matching mugs or the sex, is utterly alluring.
But it’s not real, and it never can be.
“It’s not too late,” he says, leaning down to meet my gaze, his expression too serious.
Shame courses through me. What have I done, luring him into believing any of that is possible with me? “It is,” I choke out over a lump in my throat.
In truth, there was probably never a time in which this wouldn’t have been the ending.
I bite my bottom lip, teeth digging in until the pain shatters the remaining warm illusions. Only then do I let go. “Carter. After this, I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I don’t think I’ll ever get to go back to normal.” I grimace. “Even what passed for normal for me.”
I swallow hard, make myself keep going even in the face of the hurt brewing in his expression. “It’s not fair to you. The life that you could have with someone else, I can’t give you that. I’ll never be able to give that to you. And to make it worse, you’d be in danger the whole time. Forever, actually.”
The imagined vision of our future in my mind shifts to show those mugs shattered on the kitchen floor, bloodied sheets torn and twisted on the bed, and… Carter staring up at me, blue eyes empty and sightless.
At best. I might one day, instead, come home from class or a job and find bits of dust and bone—a husk all that’s left of him.
I shudder and pull away from him, as if that alone will be enough to save him, keep that image from coming true. “I can’t do that to you.”
“Deciding that is not up to you,” Carter argues, his face darkening. “It’s up to me. And I know what it means to choose sides, to take a risk—”
“You don’t, you can’t. Not in this situation,” I say.
His mouth goes tight, as if he’s struggling to keep words inside that he knows he’ll regret. Then he shifts position, grasping my shoulders to hold me in front of him. “Please. Just trust that I know what I’m saying. I know the risk I’m taking.” His gaze bores into me, both pleading and defiant.
But it’s the urgency, the need in his voice that feels very much like desperation.
I frown up at him. “Carter, is there something—”
“Ready?” Devon asks loudly from behind Carter. He holds up a series of plastic bags in one hand—a folded-up receipt sticking out the top of one—and the metal shovel in the other. Off to his side, Chessa is examining the hacksaw in its packaging, possibly reading instructions.
“Yes,” Carter says, immediately turning for the exit, as if that will end our discussion in his favor.
Devon and Chessa follow him out, continuing what appears to be an earlier argument about whether snacks should have been purchased as well.
I trail after them, a new uneasiness settling in my chest.
Some of it, theoretically, could be traced to Carter’s sudden shift in attitude and behavior. If someone had asked me last week if Carter and I would be speaking to each other, let alone sleeping together,afterhe learned I was a member—well, half member—of a nonhuman race with magical powers, I would have laughed. (In a high-pitched, panicky way, before finding some other place to be.) But still. No.
For someone who was so concerned about the effects a potentially inappropriate relationship might have on our collective future, he is shockingly unworried about the effectdyingmight have.
So, that’s also part of it, I’m sure.
It’s not, however, until I’m climbing into the minivan, situating myself in the heap of plastic bags, trying to avoid anything with sharp edges, that I finally put my finger on what’s bothering me.
If I didn’t know better, I might think that Devon had interrupted. Deliberately.
That makes me feel as though the two of them have colluded in some way and for reasons I know nothing about.
I do not like that.
When we arrive, the cemetery is dark and quiet. Not unexpected under normal circumstances, but hey, we haven’t seenthosearound here in a few days, so I’m taking it as a win.
The now-empty houses surrounding the cemetery, both Greek life and otherwise, stare out at us, windows blank, black eyes. The evacuation seems to be complete. Even the two officers previously guarding the road are gone, replaced with flashing orange lights on the barricades, warning of danger.
