Page 80 of Romeo

Me: You’re very biased

Jasper: Completely.

The knot under my ribs loosened just a little.

This was the part Georgie couldn’t see when he looked at Romeo’s reputation. Jasper hadn’t told me I was overreacting. He hadn’t tried to explain why the scholarship committee might have chosen someone else or convince me that another opportunity would come along.

He’d asked what I needed.

Then he’d given it to me.

Me: Thank you.

Jasper: For what?

Me: For being biased

Jasper: Always, Cher.

I set the phone down and looked at the rejection letter again. It still hurt. I still wished the first sentence had started with congratulations instead of regret.

But the piece of paper no longer felt quite as heavy.

Jasper was right. I could be disappointed without turning it into proof that I was ungrateful for everything else I had. I could let something hurt without immediately reminding myself that I’d survived worse.

Granny glanced over from the stove. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” I touched the edge of the letter before closing my English book over it. “I’m okay.”

For the first time in days, I actually meant it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Romeo

The clubhouse still felt like the aftermath of a fucking explosion.

Three hours of meetings had torn through every bit of calm we’d managed to scrape together. The Death Dogs were rolling into Diamond Creek looking for Irene Cooper. King’s secrets about the Microdrive were unraveling in real time. Then, as if that wasn’t enough shit for one night, Cash and Kytten had told us what Syrena had done.

I sat on the edge of my bed with my elbows on my knees and stared at the scarred floor between my boots.

That last part was the one I couldn’t get out of my head.

Syrena had been inside our clubhouse. She’d sat at our table. She was a member of the Nyght Nymphs—women we’d trusted enough to welcome through our doors.

And she’d abused Kytten.

My jaw ached from how hard I’d been clenching it.

I could still see Kytten standing beside Cash with her hand locked in his. Her face had gone pale while he spoke, but her chin never dropped. She hadn’t hidden. She hadn’t acted like she owed any of us shame for something someone else had done to her.

Cash had sounded different. Flat. Controlled. Every word measured as if letting too much emotion into his voice might crack something open he couldn’t put back together.

Nobody had interrupted him.

That alone told you how bad it was. Getting an entire room full of Silver Shadows to shut the fuck up at the same time usually required King’s gavel and at least three threats.

Tonight, nobody needed either.