the Crow who co-founded Exiled? As in my father’s dead rival?”
“He’s not dead anymore,” Wren answered.
I absently chewed my food as I sat alone in my favorite diner, mulling over what Four had revealed—what Ever had been willing to sacrifice to find me. Luckily, Wren had been willing to do what Ever couldn’t out of guilt and called off their father’s arrival.
I cursed when I realized my thoughts had led me to strangle my burger until the contents spilled into the little red basket my food had been in. The diner’s burgers were the thickest and juiciest I’d ever had, leaving little wonder why the owners set up shop less than half a mile from the local hospital. The burgers were greasy enough to induce a heart attack, yet it tasted like ash in my mouth.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Ever almost meeting his father because of me or the fact that Tyra and I had sat in this very booth for our first date. I’d ended up wearing her burger on my face when I teased her for not being able to handle a junior stack. I remembered the grim acceptance that filled her whiskey eyes as she sat there expectantly. Tyra had been waiting for me to throw in the towel and give up the chase, not knowing that she’d revealed her true feelings or that she’d created an addict instead.
“Do you know why people love roses?” I inquired after cleaning her burger off my face. “It’s not their soft petals that make them irresistible but their sharp thorns. Instead of warning people away, the thorns tell the beholder that the rose is something worth bleeding for.” Throwing the napkin down on the table, I pinned Tyra with my glare. “So give me all you got because I’m not going anywhere.”
Cursing the sharp pain in my chest, I turned my attention toward the window, abandoning memory lane to people-watch instead. Nothing was entertaining enough to distract me, but pretending was better than weeping over my burger like some lovesick sap. The neighborhood was a pretty busy area with the hospital nearby, a slew of specialized doctor’s offices surrounding it, a couple of churches, some shops, and a few restaurants. Macchicino, the coffee shop where Tyra used to work, was only a couple of blocks away despite the Starbucks right across the street.
Since it was Saturday, the streets were crowded, and everyone seemed to be in a rush as people hurried off in different directions. I even recognized a couple of people I’d graduated with who already felt like distant strangers. It was funny how only a few months could erase a decade of being crammed into classrooms together and passing each other every day in the halls. Then again, I’d been their quarterback, hoisted onto a pedestal I’d never asked for, virtually untouchable. I guess we’d always been strangers.
Polishing off my triple stack, I started sipping at my shake only to choke and sputter at the small figure darting past my window a moment later. I instantly recognized the curly locks that looked wilder than usual and the rich brown skin I recalled feeling like velvet that now seemed grayish and pale. Shooting from the booth, I questioned my sanity, and if my eyes were playing tricks on me. It couldn’t have been her, I reasoned even as I made for the door. It was the middle of February. She was safely tucked away at Harvard. She wouldn’t be in Blackwood Keep. She couldn’t.
Reason gave way to desperation as I rushed outside. I ignored the shouts of the waitress who’d served my food as I started in the direction the girl had gone.
What if it was Selena?
The realization almost stopped me in my tracks. Almost. Selena’s threat to stay in Blackwood Keep could have been real, or she could have gone back to whatever hell she’d risen from. Either way, I had to know.
By the time I hit the end of the block that only led in two directions, the hospital on my right and too many possibilities up ahead, she was gone. Or at least the crowd was too thick for me to spot her. For all I knew, she’d been a mere mirage—a symptom of too much time spent without emotional sustenance. Too much time away from her.
Sighing, I admitted defeat while feeling a little foolish and grateful. If it had been Tyra, I might as well have signed our death certificate. Nothing in this world