made peace with it?”
She gives me a pointed look, silently calling me on my shit. We both know better. Jesse loves life. He made a conscious choice to do so, refusing to be a victim or a charity case—and calling me on that shit more than anyone else over the years. He’s made peace with his circumstances and expects me to do the same.
But even as I think about it, a stubborn part of me refuses to fully fly that banner. Somehow the prospect of letting it go makes room for it to happen again. And I could never live with that.
As silence falls between us, Reg tilts her head back and closes her eyes. The beads in her braids reflect the streetlights, winking like stars of purple and blue across her head.
I distract myself from the growing pressure in my chest by giving her a good-natured shoulder bump. “You know if Sarah finds out we both ditched her and came up here, she’s going to be pissed.”
She smiles. “You’re right. And I’m pretty sure if you don’t get back down there, she may have to pry Jesse’s little admirer off him with a crowbar.”
I stand, stretching out the stiffness in my muscles. “I’m sure that won’t be necessary. But I’ll give him a wellness check just in case.”
I extend my hand and help her upright. But she doesn’t let go right away. Instead, she beams another stare that conveys much more than her love and concern. It holds a hint of determination that’s making me itchy to end our chat.
“And the girl?”
“She’s a student, Reg. I was just saying hi. Drop it, all right?” Please, please fucking drop it.
“Do you like her?”
I groan in frustration and strongly consider bolting for the door, but ultimately there’s no outrunning Reg or a conversation she’s determined to have.
“Sure. As a student.” I sigh heavily. “Hell, I don’t know.” I thread a nervous hand through my hair, reminding myself to shut the hell up before I give Reg more ammo.
“Is that why you’re up here?”
“No, I’m—”
I’m ready to feed her a line about wanting to escape the crowd, same as her, but I have a feeling she’s too suspicious to believe it. I give her hand a little squeeze and let it drop between us.
“I’m…different, Reg,” I finally mutter. “You and I both know it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being different.”
“If you’re me, there is.”
“You’re dead wrong.” She rocks back on one foot, tossing me a harsher regard while folding her arms neatly across her chest. “And one day, someone’s going to prove you wrong in the very best way, whether you’re ready for it or not. Probably not this girl, but someone will someday. So my advice to you, Maximus Kane, would be to get ready for it.”
I force a tight smile to mask the twist of fear snaking its way through my insides. Fear that she could be right. That despite all my efforts, someone might get too close. Fear that I might let them.
Because, damn it, those fears have a face now. A beautiful, unforgettable one.
And it belongs to Kara Valari.
Chapter Five
Kara
A heavy morning fog lingers in the valley between the house and the big block letters posted into the mountain on the other side. I don’t have to see the sign to know it’s there—a constant reminder that Hollywood is home. Our family’s chosen headquarters away from the kingdom we’re doomed to serve for eternity.
I pull a thick throw blanket around my shoulders, chasing away the chill of damp air on the deck overlooking the reservoir. Even in September, Southern California mornings are too cold for my liking.
The door slides open behind me, a sure marker that my quiet morning is about to come to an end. The patio furniture beneath me shifts loudly when my housemate plops herself down, a tall coffee mug in her hand.
“You’re up early,” I say, a little impressed that Kell hasn’t skipped a beat from last night’s event. Her hair is already flat-ironed, her makeup is meticulously contoured, and her outfit is crisp, brand-new, and skintight. It’s almost as if she and the paparazzi have an arrangement that she’ll give them what they want if they give her what she wants—tantalizing photo ops without the unflattering angles.
She flicks her thumb over her phone screen and starts scrolling through her social media feed. “I have an eight o’clock class.”
“You signed up for that on purpose?”
She starts typing a comment. “Introductory Astronomy. At least I’ll get