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Citrus.
Luna.
“Hey, little prince.” My sister sits on the side of my bed, staring down at me with concern etching deep lines into her forehead.
Disappointment spears through me. Then shame because I should be happy to see her.
And I am. But, it’s not enough to completely overshadow the crush of dark loneliness.
“Luna?” I sit up and pull her into a hug, hoping she didn’t notice my initial reaction. “When did you get here? What’d I do to deserve a surprise visit?”
“Cole called me when you started burning things.” She returns my embrace for just a moment before pushing me away, far enough to search my shifty eyes. I know if I meet her gaze, I’ll have trouble holding back the turmoil in my head.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” Her voice, gentle but demanding, makes me feel like I’m ten again. Those days when I’d come home from school with bruises hidden under my clothes. Bullies were good at hurting me where teachers couldn’t see. But Luna would know. She’d see the pain in my face, and she’d drag the names of my tormenters from me.
And Luna would exact revenge in the way only she can.
But I don’t need my big sister to act as the avenging angel. Paige hasn’t hurt me intentionally. This pain is all self-inflicted.
She can’t defend me from myself.
“Dash. Talk to me.” In her eyes, I realize there’s more than just concern. I see fear.
Probably afraid I’ll do something stupid. Something illegal.
No need for that. I’ve gotten rid of all temptation. There’s nothing left to make my life anything more than just existing. I’m back on the straight and narrow.
But why does doing the right thing have to hurt so much?
I lean my forehead against hers, closing my eyes and stifling the ache in my chest.
“Have you ever had a broken heart?”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
PAIGE
A New York City hotel room is not good for pacing, but that doesn’t stop me from circling the tiny space I have. My limbs hum with raw, excited energy that’s hung around for days. A few times I’ve tossed up a random fist pump. Usually when I’m alone in the bathroom, so as not to scare random people on the street.
I’m a badass.
I didn’t let them push me around. I kept my cool, accepted my worth, and left that office with my spine straight. If only I’d been wearing a cape or something to add to the dramatic effect.
The high of that moment hasn’t worn off.
But every time I’m about to reach the pinnacle of happiness, one thought enters my mind.
I want to talk to Dash.
If we were on speaking terms, I’d call to give him a play by play. Tell him how firm my voice was, just like he taught me. How the green dress he convinced me to buy was a suit of armor I wore into corporate battle. Then I’d tell him all about New York, and how much fun it is to be back, but that I miss him and just want to crawl into his bed and fall asleep in his arms. Or maybe do something else before we go to sleep …
I groan and collapse on my hotel bed. It’s a nice cushy mattress. The softness mocks me.
When Charlie and I were booking hotel rooms we decided to go separate. He’s an early riser, and sometimes he talks in his sleep.
But tonight, my room seems overly quiet. I’m too high up to hear the busy streets of NYC without opening a window. And hotels don’t give you that option.
For a while, I just stare up at the textured ceiling, then I let my eyes roam around the room until they land on a jackpot.
