Page 142 of Stormbreaker

He offers me a skeptical look.

“I don’t anymore,” I say, picking at a loose thread on the cuff of my shirt. “I never hated you. I just didn’t trust you, but I didn’t know you. I judged you based on things other people said.”

He blinks, and I sigh and shake my head. “Plus, you’re right. My family is so . . . divided. So loveless. I sound so fucking pathetic.”

I look away, unable to face Rook’s expression, worried about what I’ll find.

A warm hand lands on mine and curls around my fingers. “You’re not pathetic. You aren’t responsible for any of that.”

I huff out a breath as a gust of wind tugs his hair, blowing strands across his cheek.

I want to reach up and tuck them back.

“I think a lot of people must see a girl who has it all,” he says softly. “But they don’t see the real you.”

His words cut close to the truth, and it’s a relief to have someone understand me.

“Something like that,” I say. “But I don’t want to complain. I grew up with everything I could have ever wanted. I’m not a . . .”

“Solitude,” he says. “You can say it.”

“Sorry.” I rub my face with my hand. “Old habits.”

“Do you really think we’re all so poorly off?” he asks gently. “Are you still convinced you have it better in the Houses?”

“No,” I answer immediately. “Not anymore.”

His mouth presses together as a cloud burst explodes overhead. Energy strikes the earth, swelling into a plasma arc swirling with amethyst sparks. Rook hops off the rock and holds out his hand. I slide my fingers into his, and we take a few steps deeper into the open plain.

“You have every right to hate me,” I say. “For everything. For who I am. For what I represent. It’s all true. All the ugly, horrible parts.”

“I don’t hate you,” he says softly.

“Not anymore, you mean?”

He smirks but doesn’t reply.

“Can I ask you a question?” he starts a moment later.

“Sure.” And I mean it. I want to tell him anything. Everything.

“Do you ever feel like you can . . . control it? The Spark?”

I exhale a soft breath. “I’m not sure. Do you?”

He shrugs and turns back to the sky. “Maybe.”

“What do you think that means?”

“I have no idea,” he says. “But it must mean something.”

His expression is inscrutable, and I wonder if he’s keeping something else from me.

The wind is picking up, and more flashes light up the horizon. Rook’s hand squeezes mine tighter as a knot of emotion swells in my throat. I shouldn’t feel so connected to him. The story about Raine and his birth mother should be a reminder, but I’m not afraid. It feels like we’d be different. But I’m probably getting ahead of myself.

“Hold on to me?” he asks. “Last time . . .”

“Yes,” I say. “I want to do it again.”