Page 117 of Stormbreaker

Neither one of us could explain what happened that night when we held hands and weathered the storm. When, instead of pain, we both felt lighter than air. All I know is I hope we get the chance to do it again.

His mouth presses together, and the corners tip up in the barest fraction of acknowledgment before his tactile gaze wanders over me with a look I feel like a physical touch.

“Poet,” comes a voice to my left, breaking my connection with Rook.

Knox.

He’s also dressed up for tonight, and though he looks nice, it’s nothing like Rook. I admonish myself for the thought. I shouldn’t be thinking that about the only person in this room who’s even more of a pariah than I am.

Knox notices Rook, and they glare at each other. Knox has managed to stay out of Rook’s way as far as I’m aware, and I hope that’s the end of their little bro spat.

“I fucking hate that guy,” Knox says in a low voice. “He’ll get what’s coming to him soon enough.”

Or maybe not.

Knox looks down at me, his stare bright with accusation. “Right?”

I shake my head. “He’s just minding his own business,” I say, hoping that’s noncommittal enough.

“Was he minding his own business when he nearly choked me to death? When he punched me?”

“You started it,” I remind him.

“You’re defending him? That . . . that . . .” He cuts off, likely unable to come up with an appropriate insult. “Solitudes killed Raine.” He hisses the words, like Rook must be shunned because of what someone else did.

“Knox, what do you want?” I’ve truly had enough of this conversation.

He inhales a deep breath, I guess deciding it’s not worth making a scene about Rook.

“There’s still time to change your mind,” he says. “Your father—”

“Is he here?” I peer through the dense crowd, but I can’t see much over everyone’s heads.

“Yes, he asked me to come talk to you.”

I’m already walking away.

“Poet!” Knox calls, but I don’t look back as I search for my parents. I take a turn around the room, and then finally, I spot them talking to a couple who lives a floor below us. Their son is in a few of my classes.

They’re deep in conversation, cocktails perched in their hands, and I stop, struck by the sight. Seeing them makes me realize how much I’ve missed my mom.

My dad looks handsome but tired in an impeccable black suit, and my mother wears a sparkling red dress that sweeps to the floor. My throat knots, and I’d give anything to be that little kid who could run over and take comfort in the safety of her arms.

But I’m no longer a child, and I made a decision I knew would tear my family apart.

I don’t realize my feet are moving until I’m standing beside them. They don’t notice me, but I can feel a hundred pairs of eyes tracking our movements.

Without even saying a word, I’m making a scene.

“Mom, Dad,” I say, my voice cracking.

Knox catches up and appears at my side.

“Sorry, Grady,” Knox says, “I tried to talk to her.”

Grady? Right to his face? Since when does he— It doesn’t matter.

“If my father has something to say, he can say it to me,” I spit. The other couple takes a small step back, not for privacy but to give us more space for this little bit of theater.