Page 97 of Storm Caller

“Or they didn’t know about it.”

“Or that.”

I laugh. “They didn’t consider you a threat,” I say, and he shrugs.

“I’m just one person. What could I possibly do?”

“A lot,” I say. “One person can do a lot.”

He offers me a careful look. “Maybe.” Then he holds up the box. “But I brought you here to enjoy this.”

“Don’t keep me in suspense.”

He cracks it open, revealing a small, round cake. It’s like a work of art with its curls of pink frosting and a generous dusting of gold sprinkled on top. It’s so pretty I almost don’t want to eat it.

“I hope you like chocolate,” he says. “You seem like a chocolate girl.”

I laugh. “I definitely love chocolate.”

“I just realized I forgot to grab forks,” he says with a sheepish grin.

I giggle and shake my head. “Are we supposed to eat it by hand?”

“Could be kinda hot?” he suggests.

“Or messy.”

“Who says those are mutually exclusive things?”

“Fair enough,” I say as I adjust the collar on his jacket. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Your mom is nice, but she’s—”

“What?”

“It’s maybe not my place to say, but she’s . . . haunted.”

I bite the inside of my lip, then reply, “You’re right.”

“I’m sorry. She deserves better. You were the same when I first met you.”

I tip my head. “Was I?”

I know it’s true, and I’m not surprised that he noticed.

He nods. “It’s what drew me to you, I think. You were this beautiful ray of light, but I could sense something darker inside you. Now I understand that it’s the secrets you carry. The reminder of the things your father has done. Now I know that your bright heart had been broken. That you were trying to hide among shadows, but that isn’t where you belong.”

Tears burn the backs of my eyes. “And now?”

“Now you understand that darkness. It’s still there, but it’s different. It’s honed. It’s stronger. You’ve learned to use it as a weapon instead of allowing it to control you.”

I exhale a short, surprised breath, stunned at how clearly he sees me.

“I think I have you to thank for that,” I whisper, but he shakes his head.

“No, that was all you, Poet. You’re stronger than you’ve ever given yourself credit for.”

He digs into the box and holds up the cake.