Page 222 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“Briar? Did you hear me?”

She stops walking with a heavy sigh and turns to me, her face defeated and nervous. “Please don’t ask me, Rurik. You won’t like the answer.”

I stare at her, feeling my hackles rising. What the fuck does that mean? My eyes zoom in on her hands as she wrangles her fingers together, refusing to look at me.

“Briar…” I warn, placing my hand on hers to stop the way she’s digging her nails into her palms. “Stop it, and just tell me.”

She releases a heavy breath and turns to me. Then she just stares, her eyes drilling into mine, unblinking. I furrow my brow, and she raises one in response, her jaw tightening as she tilts her chin defiantly.

And then it punches me in the fucking face. “You think it’s my stepdad.”

Her silence is answer enough.

“That’s impossible,” I say. “He was in Florida with me and mum.”

Briar scoffs. “Oh, right. Like he doesn't have his lackeys to do his bidding.”

I don’t want to fight with her again. So I just sigh, throwing my hand over her shoulders and pulling her to me. She hesitates for a second before wrapping her arms around me.

I kiss her head, “You have beef with him, and you won’t tell me what’s up. I’ll go ask him myself.”

Her head shoots up to look at me, her eyes widening. “You will?”

“Yes.” I nod. “I think it’s time my family knows about us, don’t you think?”

She immediately grins, squeezing me tighter.

“Yes.” She ducks her head back under my chin and inhales deeply. “Rurik? No matter what happens, I won't let anything or anyone stand in the way between us."

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

*-*-*-*

For once, I’m the one seeking my stepdad to hang out. And I think he was really surprised when I called him this morning because he immediately cleared his schedule and agreed to meet me for brunch.

Now, how do I bring up the subject of Briar? I can’t just say, “So, my girl thinks you’re this evil incarnate, but I can’t wrap my head around that. Can you please tell me there’s an evil doppelganger out there?” He would definitely force me to some institution for my head and not just my heart.

“How’s your girlfriend doing?”

I look up from my plate. Oh, okay. That was easy. “She’s doing great.”

“I see.”

“She’s, uh, she’s fantastic, actually,” I continue, my fingers fiddling with my fork. “I’ve been wanting to introduce you to her. Mum’s spoken to her on the phone before, but they haven’t met in person yet.”

“What’s her name?”

“Briar Reyes.”

Silence.

Familiar invisible fingers trail up my spine and poke at the back of my neck again, making me squirm with discomfort.

“I know who she is.”

I freeze. “You… Do?”

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