Page 97 of The Cartographer

Stubborn as I am, I can’t just listen to them. What would be the fun in that?

“What would you have me do?”

Glory sits up and scooches back, making room for India to sit on my other leg, their calves tangling together between my thighs. My two black-haired beauties. They may be submissive in certain contexts, but this is not one of them. Now they’re being bossy as fuck, and it’s India’s turn. “Maybe apologizing to Allie and groveling for him to take you back would be a good start?”

“Yes, always get the sexy man to forgive you!” Every time I forget my mother is here, she seems to remind me.

I let out a sigh. “I don’t think he wants to speak with me.”

“Since when has someone not wanting to speak with you stopped you from speaking to them?” One of the reasons Slade is so irritating is that he has an excellent memory and he makes good points. I am friends with far too many people trained as attorneys. Must remedy that.

“Yeah,” Glory says as she lightly kicks my shin. “Try harder.”

The idea of seeing Allie again, hearing his voice,touchinghim… It’s as if something is squeezing my chest unbearably tight. I want that like I’ve wanted nothing else ever. Nothing I could possibly have anyhow.

It occurs to me there’s one person in the room who hasn’t said a word. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Cris.”

He shrugs from his seat on an ottoman. “Felt like everyone else had it pretty well covered.”

That is nonsense, which is what my glower tells him I think. When everyone is silent and staring at him, he takes a deep breath, leans forward, and rests his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in the middle. “Look, everyone in this room owes you a debt of gratitude for what you’ve done for us. We’d all like to see you happy, and we think being with Allie would do that. But—”

India whips around, and I can practically see the daggers shoot out of her eyes. Cris waves her off, though, and continues. “But you’re also not the only person suffering. I met Allie, broke bread with him. I saw the way he looked at you, the way you talked to each other. Never have I seen you look like you were on such equal footing with someone. Even with us, you’re kind of a benevolent dictator, which is fine. I don’t think a one of us has a problem with that, but… Goddammit, Rey. Don’t you want something for yourself sometimes? Don’t you want to give Allie what he wants, what he needs? You might not like it because it means you’ve fucked up like normal people do, and god help us all if you’re down here with the rest of us, but as great as Julian is, he’s not you.”

Is this what it’s like to be on the other side? I don’t like it. Everything Cris is saying makes sense—and I believe him because, if India trusts him, that should be a good enough endorsement for anyone—but hell if it doesn’t hurt. As if some pokey thing is lancing through my soul. I’d wager, anyway. Not like I could say for sure.

I’d like to give in. Like to believe everything they’ve said and let that be good enough. It’s not. There’s still this nagging feeling I cannot have my cake and eat it too. No one can have everything they want, we have to make choices, and why should I be the exception to the rule?

There’s a nudge at my calf, and it makes me look at India. She has this incredibly stern look on her face, but it’s also compassionate. “From the moment you shook my hand at Princeton, you have made my world a better place. I don’t like to think where I’d be if it weren’t for you.”

She spares a second to look over her shoulder at Cris, a corner of her mouth tilting, and the current of love and devotion running between them is so thick, you’d have to cut it with a knife. Maybe a machete. But she’s turned her considerable powers of concentration back to me again. “You’ve always been able to inspire faith in everyone, and it’s because you deliver. Every single goddamn time, no matter the ask, no matter the cost. You’re a fucking miracle worker. So what the hell? Take a pinch of your magic fairy dust for yourself. Make it work.”

That’s when I feel it. If I had to specify, I’d probably say it was my spleen being jabbed. Some people concoct angels and devils on their shoulders, others have got crickets in the back of their heads. Me? I’ve got a demon who digs at my internal organs. If I am, in fact, a superhero as I claim to be, why can I not follow my own advice, which I’ve given to countless mortals, including some of the ones in this room? I am not about to give up my caped crusader cred, and if I’m determined to hold onto it, then I’ve got to fight to keep it. If anyone can make this work, it should be me. What the hell kind of example am I setting for my flock by moping about because I’ve forced myself to choose between my calling and a man? I’m not a priest, for god’s sake. Not of any kind that would proscribe me having a partner at any rate.

If that’s true, though… I cringe, thinking of what I’ve done to Allie. Passed him off, made him believe I don’t love him, when in point of fact, I love him so much I’ve convinced myself I could never be good enough for him. He is likely, and rightfully, cursing my name. This has been a shabby performance on my part indeed. I’ve been unfair and, when I look at it from the angle Allie must’ve, downright cruel.

I roll my lips between my teeth and catch myself, but not before India’s noticed. She rests her forehead on my temple and, so quietly not even Glory will be able to hear, whispers to me, “You deserve it, you know. Allie does too. You’ve always been my hero, and now’s your chance to act like one. Go get your man, Walter.”

Then she lays a soft kiss on my cheek, and I look around at the other people in the room who have just as solid a belief in me. I’ll have to ask Matty to do a better job dusting in here because I swear there are specks of something in my eyes. Only excuse for them to be watering like this.

So with India and Glory sitting on my lap, and the rest of the people who love me most in the world all in the same room, I give in with a clearing of my throat. I’m tired of being up on this lonely mountain top, and I think I might know someone who believes he’s worthy. I certainly do. Hopefully I won’t be too late. “Fine. I will do my utmost to win back the affections of one Mr. Allie Hart. Anyone have any suggestions?”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

‡

Once, twice, threetimes it rings, and I have a strong urge to hang up the goddamn phone. With everyone staring at me, though, I can’t possibly chicken out. I would lose every ounce of my credibility, and then where would I be?

“Hello, Rey.”

“Kendra. Hi. I’m…I’m honestly surprised you answered the phone.”

“Well, you’ve done quite a bit for my family, I figured it was the least I could do. Maybe the most too, but I thought I’d see what you wanted before I made that call.”

Perfectly reasonable. “I’m calling about your brother.”

“Then you can nope right on out of here. No way.”

“But—”

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