Page 29 of Storm Caller

I pull him out. He’s a little squished from living at the bottom of my pack, and I trace the line of stitches running down his stomach, thinking of that moment I found Rook sewing him back together.

Tears burn my eyes at the memory. At the way he took care of me that night and all the days that came after. Maybe he wasn’t faking it all. Or maybe that’s just what I want to believe. I clutch Teddy to my chest, pressing my nose to his soft head and inhaling the scent of another life.

I need to keep my guard up.

Protect my heart. Protect myself.

As of this moment, I’m the only one I truly have left.

9

In the morning, a brisk knock comes at my door, stirring me from a heavy, dreamless sleep. I blink away the cobwebs from my eyes.

Throwing off the covers, I pad over to the door and open it to find Rook, freshly showered and shaved, with his hair curling around his ears.

“Hey,” he says. He’s changed into new clothes. Ones I’ve never seen before. Brown leather pants with stitching up the sides hang low on his hips. A sleeveless leather shirt that skims his waist is embellished with straps and buckles, accentuating the swell of his arms and the breadth of his chest. Several of his fingers are now adorned with silver rings, and black lines his eyes.

This is his real wardrobe. The real Rook.

A fucking work of art.

He’s so beautiful it makes my throat ache.

“Do you want to come have breakfast?” he asks, tipping his head as a lock of hair falls in his eye. “It’s getting late, and they’ll stop serving soon.”

“Sure,” I say, shaking myself out of my stupor. “Let me just get changed. Give me a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

I close the door and dig out some clean clothes, including my Amery-issued black pants and a purple cotton Storm Guard tunic. Once I’m dressed, I open the door to find Rook leaning against the far wall, his hands in his pockets, a foot pressed to the surface.

“You’re standing out here?” I ask, and his face stretches into a slow smile.

“It’s a great place to stand,” he answers, picking up on our inside joke.

“That day,” I say. “Outside the med wing. When you were waiting . . . I mean, standing . . .”

“I was waiting,” he says. “For you. To make sure you were okay.”

I clutch the pendant dangling around my neck. “Why? I’m nothing but trouble.”

Again, our eyes meet. “So much trouble,” he says, his voice dropping to a ragged whisper. We pause before he pushes himself up, clearly changing his mind about something he was planning to say next. “Hungry?”

“Ravenous,” I answer. He keeps his hands in his pockets as he leads me back through the building. Last night, he wouldn’t let go of me, so is something different today? I wish I didn’t care.

We enter a busy mess hall lined with metal tables and filled with people dressed in what I’m coming to understand is the uniform of the Veil.

The smell of food hits me along with the cheerful chatter of people and the clatter of cutlery against plates. It almost reminds me of Amery. I was supposed to be training for the Storm Guard. Hanging out with my friends. Getting into harmless mischief with Trinity.

My chest heaves around her name. I wonder if I’ll be able to say it without a screw twisting through my heart ever again.

Knox might be dead. Edward, too. I switched Houses. My parents disowned me. Then my oldest friend betrayed me.

None of this year went as planned.

It all makes me wonder what I’m truly nostalgic for. My life no longer exists, even if I turned around and headed straight to New Manhattan.

We enter the line and pick out a selection of standard breakfast fare. It’s obvious Rook is popular among this crowd. Every few seconds, we’re stopped by someone offering a greeting or welcoming him back, before their gazes land on me with puzzled frowns.