Salvatore swivels to face me, looking more concerned than betrayed. “You’re allowed to keep some things to yourself, mia amata. This snuffer doesn’t know what he’s talking about. You only just started really getting to know us. Of course you wouldn’thurtus.”
I swallow hard. It’s not enough to clear the rasp from my throat. “I did, though. In different ways. Before.”
Asher’s voice carries from the back of the room, as gentle as always. “Before what, Elodie?”
Dear Parvati, how I love him.
Hearing him say my name alongside memories pushed to the front of my mind cracks something inside me. My head droops, my eyes squeezing shut against a prickle of tears.
“Elodie.” Byron moves to my side. “I’m sure whatever it is?—”
“No. You don’t know. It’s too crazy.”
I drag in a breath, sorting through the jumble in my head. How can I even start to explain the truth?
Cole’s tone is as caustic as ever. “Are you actually going to tell us anything, or is this another diversion?”
My teeth set on edge. The anger grounds me more than I’d have expected.
Why does he have to be such a fuckingprickabout everything?
Even if on a deeper level, he’s right.
I suppose I might as well start at the beginning. At least, the beginning of when I entered their lives.
Girding myself, I lift my gaze again. I don’t know who to look at, so I focus on the doorway that leads to the stairs.
When I walk back up those steps, will it be with no matches at all, at least none who still want me?
I force out the words. “I’m not the Elodie you all used to know. That Elodie died on April 8th.”
At the edge of my vision, Salvatore’s frown deepens. “Are we talking, like, metaphorically?”
“No, I’m being totally literal. She was run down on a street one night, and her—my—aunt found her. Aunt Daphne had no idea who was responsible, and she says she was worried about how the death would affect the family, so… so she reached out with her magic, found another Elodie in an alternate reality who was still alive, and yanked me into this one.”
Cole’s eyebrows shoot up. “And these two were calling me insane. You expect us to believe you’re some alternate Elodie Devine from a parallel universe?”
I can’t help glaring at him again. “You can believe whatever you want. You asked me to tell you what I’ve been hiding, and I’m telling you. What you do with the information is up to you.”
“But of all the stories?—”
“Of all the stories, this one istrue.” I suck more air into my lungs. “You noticed something was different about me, down to my ephemera, and I’m telling you why. Because I’m not her. We’re two different people, who livedverydifferent lives.”
Byron is studying me, his expression unreadable. Is he already regretting the intimacy we shared yesterday?
“Different how?” he asks.
My hands itch to clasp together on my lap, as if that will help steady me through the confession. “The main thing isthat in my original reality, when I was six, my dad died in a car accident. In this reality, from what I’ve gathered, my mom was the one who was driving and died. I grew up with her rather than with him… and my grandparents on the Devine side didn’t want to believe I was their son’s kid. They bullied her into keeping quiet.”
Cole looks like he’s on the verge of rolling his eyes. “And why would they kick out their only heir?”
My tone turns tart. “What do you know about my mother?”
He makes a dismissive gesture. “Why should I know anything?”
“Oh, I don’t know, because people talk? Because when a beloved family member dies, there are memorials and fond mentions of them and all that. But you’ve never heard a peep about Maya Singh, have you? She had no family connections, no family of her own she even wanted to associate with, and I don’t imagine the fact that her skin was brown helped either. My grandparents here have made it pretty clear they’re glad she died.”
Byron’s eyes widen. I can almost see his understanding shifting behind his eyes as he considers the complexion Other Elodie always passed off as a Mediterranean tan. “She— You?—”
