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I offered him anare you shitting me?look. “You basically rumble outmineevery time you look at me.”
“Well, you are mine. I’ve just come to the conclusion that you’re also far too much trouble for me to keep you out of it all on my own. Besides, Grant has been busy.”
“I’m busy, too.”
Which wasn’t true, at all.
In fact, I’d been exceedingly bored since returning from hell. I’d come back and needed to figure out exactly how I fit into aworld I hadn’t fit into before. At least before I’d been able to pretend.
Now that I had my feet under me, now that I knew and couldn’t keep the fantasy that I was mortal, the men who had filled so much of my last few months had scattered to the wind.
So excuse me for not giving a damn how busy they all suddenly were. They’d stepped into my life, tossed around all my perfectly laid pieces then just disappeared?
Assholes.
Yet, no matter how much I tried to cling to that anger, it was hurt that really held me.
Troy reached across the table, ignoring his phone as it rang again. “You aren’t alone, Ava.”
I lifted my gaze, a sense of shame inside me. Troy was there, sowhywas I so hurt by the actions of three other men? I’d never expected to have four men in my life, yet the rejection from the others felt personal, as if I’d lost pieces of myself along with them. “So where are they?”
Well, Kase I knew…
Troy ran his fingers over my arm. “Hunter has been researching ways to track Lilith. Grant is working with the guild for the same thing.”
“And they can’t even contact me? Can’t stop by? Seems more like ghosting.”Or purposely avoiding me…
“You need to have some faith.”
“Faith in what? Because I have to say, after meeting the devil himself, my faith isn’t there much.”
“How about in the men who you thought were worth risking your life for?”
Easier said than done.
* * * *
When I finally got out of Troy’s bed the next morning, it was empty, since Troy always woke and left early for work.
By the time I showered and changed—at his place, because the idea of going to my empty house was too depressing—it was nearing eleven in the morning.
“You should answer your phone,” came a familiar voice from Troy’s living room.
“You shouldn’t break into homes that aren’t yours,” I told Grant as I passed him and headed for the kitchen.
“If it were my house, it wouldn’t be breaking in.”
“Do you evenhavea house? I feel like you’re probably a vagrant who just crashes on people’s couches.”
He didn’t rise from the couch, his sneaker-covered feet on the coffee table as he twisted to stare at me. “I do have a house.”
“So why were you always staying at a hotel?”
“Because I don’t go to my house when on jobs. I prefer when people don’t know where it is.”
Guess that makes me just people.
He sighed and let his head drop back. “You know, conversations with you are like skipping across a minefield.”
