“Okay.” I smiled. “But you should know, Calliope really did threaten to curse someone once. She carries crystals in her purse that she claims are ‘charged.’ It’s a whole thing.”
“I’ll bring protective amulets.”
“You’re mocking my friends.”
“I’m mocking their witchcraft. There’s a difference.”
I laughed. He pulled me closer. We fell asleep tangled and talking, choosing to build something out of the mess, anyway.
Chapter thirty-seven
Sierra texted me on a Tuesday:Razor Braids concert. Friday. The whole crew. Bring Ellis.
Two words at the end that rearranged my entire week. Bring Ellis.
I’d been promising this for months. After our conversation in bed, after all the therapy-speak about integration and wholeness and not compartmentalizing your life into separate boxes, I’d told him I’d make it happen. And then I’d found seventeen reasons to postpone.
Not tonight, Calliope’s in a mood. Not this week, Raven’s going through something. Bad timing, Sierra’s got that photography deadline.
Ellis never pushed. That was almost worse. He’d just nod and say, “Next time” with this quiet patience that made me want to scream, because I knew what it cost him to keep swallowing that disappointment.
But now Sierra was forcing my hand, and honestly? Thank God she was.
Friday afternoon, I changed clothes four times. Four. Like I was seventeen again and about to introduce my first boyfriend to my mother, except my mother wasn’t speaking to me and these people were the family I’d chosen instead.
“The blue one,” Ellis called from my bed, where he’d been watching this disaster unfold with barely concealed amusement for twenty minutes.
“The blue one makes my shoulders look weird.”
“Your shoulders look incredible in everything. Wear the blue one.”
“You’re just saying that, darling, because you want to leave on time.”
“I’m saying it because your shoulders are perfect and I’d like to get there before the opening act finishes.” He stood up, crossed the room, and put both hands on those allegedly perfect shoulders. “They’re going to like me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know they love you, and I make you happy. The math works.”
“Calliope doesn’t believe in math. She believes in vibes and Mercury retrograde.”
“Then I’ll have good vibes.” He kissed the spot behind my ear that made my knees unreliable. “Blue shirt. Let’s go.”
We met everyone at Sierra’s apartment before the show. My palms were sweating on the subway over, which was humiliating. Ellis held my hand anyway, damp palms and all, and pretended not to notice.
Sierra opened the door, and her face split into a grin so wide it practically had its own zip code.
“Everyone.” I pulled Ellis forward with our linked hands. “This is Ellis.”
I was glowing. It radiated off me like a space heater, and I didn’t even care.
The room went quiet for approximately half a second. Calliope blinked twice. Raven’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Thalia, Sierra’s sister, three days deep into a crash course on Razor Braids lyrics and perched on the arm of the couch like she’d been inducted by blood oath, leaned back so fast she nearly took a throw pillow with her.
Here’s the thing about Ellis that no amount of description prepared you for. The man looked like a Greek statue that had decided mortal life seemed interesting enough to try. Tall, broad-shouldered, that jaw. The sleeve tattoo peeking out from under his rolled cuffs, black-and-gray geometric patterns bleeding into something organic. And the smile that had undone me in a gym several months ago.
“Nice to finally meet you all,” Ellis said. Calm, warm. Like he hadn’t spent the entire subway ride squeezing my fingers hard enough to leave marks. “Jett’s told me so much about everyone, I feel like I already know you.”
Calliope recovered first. She always did.
