Page 109 of I Will Mend You

And she took comfort in my touch. Having her lean on me while we sat outside was unexpected, but a pleasant surprise. Having her turn to me down below was a balm to my soul. It feels like one step closer to regaining her trust.

I sit opposite her, nursing my black coffee, catching up on messages from the interrogation team. Deputy Chief Carl Hunter has revealed the address of a townhouse in Beaumont City Father uses for entertaining guests. I’ve dispatched a small team to reduce it to ashes.

Amethyst glances up at me from her plate, her eyes glistening but no longer filled with despair. Instead, they shine withdetermination. My little ghost is resilient. It’s only a matter of time before she demands another chance to confront her abuser.

“Do you need anything else?” I ask.

She shakes her head, making her pretty curls bounce. “Did you like Myra?”

My brows pinch. She’s insignificant, as are most people outside my immediate circle. A mild irritation, but otherwise unremarkable. Considering their connection, I choose my words carefully.

“You like her, and she’s a loyal friend.”

“What does that mean?”

“Anyone who makes you happy makes me happy,” I reply, and it’s true. Myra Mancini might have encouraged Amethyst into publishing the letters I wanted to keep secret, and led her into a limousine filled with predators, but she never gave up on their relationship.

Unlike Melonie Crowley.

I lean across the counter, my heart sagging at the reminder of that twisted story. Despite Amethyst’s little breakdown, today has been a resounding success. Dare I ruin the mood by reminding her of Melonie’s diary?

The selfish bastard in me says to keep her in ignorance and wait until she’s healed. But hiding things from Amethyst will only erode her trust. The last time I concealed the truth from her, I woke up in a burning room.

We fall into a comfortable silence, with her dipping her fifth arancini ball into marinara sauce and me sipping my coffee. Now that she’s out of the infirmary, her presence fills this kitchen with warmth. Bringing up the diary might stall her progress, but isn’t it better for her to know about her past now rather than later?

Inhaling a deep breath, I force out a string of words I know will result in resentment. Her view of me will change once sherealizes I’m not the first to drive her mad by pretending to be a ghost.

“Amethyst,” I begin, my gaze boring into hers. “There’s something you need to know.”

She pauses, her fork in mid-air, eyes widening. “Is it about the sleeping arrangements?”

My eyes widen. I blink away the surprise. “What?”

“My treatment has finished, and the bed in my room is large enough for two.”

“And?” I raise a brow.

“Xero always hugged me to sleep at the asylum,” she murmurs, lowering her lashes. “He’s not here, so…”

Jealousy and fear flare through my chest, even though the sensations are irrational. The thought of a hallucination comforting her instead of me burns. “Amethyst.”

Her head snaps up. “Yes?”

“Who am I?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, frowning.

“My name. My relationship to you. My status in your reality?”

“You’re the real Xero, and you’re my…” She rubs the back of her neck. “I don’t know what we are because I kind of broke up with you when I smashed that bottle over your head and left you for dead. But I know you’re not Delta.”

“And you wantmeto hug you to sleep?” I ask.

She glances away. “If that’s too much?—”

“I’ll do it,” I rasp.

She eats seven arancini balls in total before announcing she’s full and rises from her seat. I take her back to the room and lay out a soft pair of pajamas and a robe.

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