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I open my mouth to answer, but my eyes stray to where Emrys is struggling to keep up with the training the rest of his team is handling with ease, then to Jason who seems in hardly a better shape.Idiots.
Myidiots. I want to march into the field and drag them out of there, make them rest, but you can’t change other people, can you? Can’t save them unless they want to be saved. And would that make me someone with a savior complex?Good God. I…
“Mia.”
I blink. “Sorry, what?”
“God, you got it so bad.”
Can’t deny it. I look at her expectantly. “What is it?
“Have you even googled your new boyfriends? Have you done any research to see if they have done anything wrong? Or did you avoid it, afraid of what you might find?”
I want to snap at her, tell her she’s wrong, that she’s being awful just like Melissa, making up stories to hurt these boys who seem to hurt so much already, but I can’t.
Because she’s not entirely wrong. Even if the net is usually down, I have no real excuse.
I gaze at her, wondering why she’s here, not entirely convinced that it’s because she missed me. No, she’s here with an intention, a goal.
She wants me to ask, to play her game. Instead, I take a huge bite out of my sandwich and look away. “Mf,” I say, chewing.
“Didn’t quite catch that.”
I shrug.Too bad.Show your hand, Van. It’s about time.
She puts down her bag of chips and whips out her phone. “Fine. Look at these article clippings.”
Newspaper articles. Old ones. She must have found a moment that the net was up to search. I take the phone gingerly as if it might bite me. I’m afraid the information on it will. Otherwise, why would she look so smug?
I zoom in on the images, reading headlines and summaries.
‘Girl found dead in palace, fingers pointing at demon prince.’
‘Woman dies. The whole vampire clan suspected of participating in the killing but the family accuses the older son.’
‘Young fae throne heir suspect in murder of young woman.’
‘Werewolves are indeed beasts: woman dies after boyfriend wolfs out.’
“I thought we agreed Jason didn’t kill his girlfriend,” I whisper, my lips numb. “His girlfriend was Ophelia, and she’s back.”
“You think she’s the only girlfriend he’s ever had?”
The sting in my chest is unexpected and stupid. That was in the past—and wait, that’s really not the point right now.
Emrys admitted to it one of the first times we met, didn’t he? But Vanessa is right, I pushed it down, chose to ignore it, not believe it.
“What if I’m a killer?”he’d said.
And I laughed it off.
I’m sitting there, frozen, her phone clutched in my hand. I can feel her gaze on me, waiting, gauging my reaction.
I glance back down at the articles.Look past the headlines, I tell myself.As you’d look past the title and cover of a book, turning to a random page to see what the writing is like, how it flows, as you’ve done in the library of the Church so many times.
So many stories fall flat after the first few pages, so many declare themselves to be the ultimate work on a topic, the ultimate experience and treatise only to prove a rambling mess. So many pretty and exciting covers hide dull content and have nothing to do with the quality of the book itself.
You know better than to be impressed by a few flashy words. You have a lifetime of training when it comes to stories.
