Page 39 of Twisted Truths

“You think I didn’t notice the way you looked longingly at them in that bakery when we grabbed a coffee the past two days?” A small smile tilts the corner of his lips.

He’s not wrong. I have been eyeballing them each time we’ve grabbed a coffee at the bakery near where all our meetings have been. I just didn’t want sticky hands and the sugar crash, which is why I refrained from ever grabbing one. But the fact that he was paying attention makes my chest squeeze.

“Well, thank you.” I take another bite, not sure what his nice act says and not wanting to read any more into his small act of kindness.

He reaches for the remote off the coffee table and hits a button that starts the movie on the TV.

“Didn’t figure you for a rom-com guy.” In fact, the idea feels ridiculous.

“Figured you might enjoy something light and entertaining.”

Our gazes hold, and I nod in thanks, then turn my attention to the TV, wishing that Obsidian’s reaction to the awful thing that happened tonight didn’t make me want him more.

Chapter

Sixteen

OBSIDIAN

When I wake the next day, the urge to fly out of bed and track down that little prick Brandon still presses against my sternum. I don’t because I don’t want to leave Ariana alone and because I want to give her the space to decide how she wants to deal with it.

That doesn’t mean I won’t take my revenge on him if Ariana doesn’t take hers, but the wound is still fresh, and she may not really know what she wants to do at this point.

I understand the impetus to want to forget it. My mother did the same thing for many years with my father. Hell, I did the same thing for years with my father.

What it comes down to is that I’ll give her whatever she needs—time, space, more apple crullers, it doesn’t matter. Because seeing her broken last night triggered something I can’t seem to unravel.

I’ve been committed to trying to get rid of her, and now all I want is to pull her closer and tuck her into my side, protecting her from any harm. I don’t even know what the fuck that means. Sure, I want to bed her, but this urge, this is more than just my dick talking.

We’re leaving shortly to head back to Midnight Manor, and I’m all packed up, waiting in the living area of the suite, but Ariana hasn’t made an appearance yet.

Is she okay? Should I go check on her?

Jesus, these thoughts are going to drive me fucking nuts. Before last night, I would’ve just barged into her room and told her to get her ass moving. It was all much simpler before she worked her way under my skin and burrowed in so deep I can’t get her out.

I’m saved from having to ponder what to do further when her bedroom door opens and she strolls out, wheeling her suitcase behind her. She’s dressed in a slim fitted pair of beige dress pants and black lace blouse with short sleeves. Her eyes aren’t puffy, so I don’t think she’s been crying this morning, which eases the tightness in my chest.

“How are you feeling this morning?” I ask, walking toward her and holding out my hand for her suitcase.

She seems surprised, but she passes it over. “I’m okay. Still a little shaken, but better than last night, thanks.” Her big blue eyes look up at mine.

I’ve grown accustomed to seeing disdain in them, irritation, and the occasional flare of lust, but this morning, there’s something new there—a wary sort of adoration. The way that makes my throat burn, how it makes me wish, makes me hope, I could be someone different than I am so I could be worthy of that look… my jaw tics.

Hope.

Hope is such a vicious, insidious thing.

How many times did I have faith and hope that my mother would leave my father? That my father would change, morph into something he wasn’t? And then, as I grew older and realized that would never happen, all I’d hope for was that he’d die and we’d never have to bear the brunt of him again. And then he did, and it didn’t change anything—his torture remained even after he was buried in the earth. It was just a different kind of torture.

Hope has never done anything for me except disappoint me.

“Obsidian?”

Ariana’s voice draws me from my thoughts, and I realize she said something to me. “Sorry?”

“I just thanked you again for being so great yesterday.” Her eyes shine at me like two pools of deep blue water, expectant. Probably for me to continue being the guy I was last night.

But I can’t do that. I can’t let her hope like I once did, only for it to destroy her in the end.

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