Page 47 of The Blood we Crave: Part Two

“I hope you’re always honest with me.” He waves me over. “Come, let’s chat.”

“If this is about my next project, I told you it’s a secret. You’ll just have to wait to see it when it’s finished,” I taunt, stepping around the desk so we’re facing one another.

“I know you have genetics with Hayes shortly, so—”

My brows furrow together, alarmed and unable to keep my thoughts to myself.

“How do you know that?”

It’s the new semester. My course load differs completely from what it was in the fall. Unless he’d specifically looked at it, he wouldn’t know what I was taking.

He chuckles, placing his hands against the edge of the desk. “Lyra, how many times have you told me you dread learning signaling pathways?”

My teeth bite into the inside of my cheek as I nod.

He’s probably right. With everything that’s happened as of late, I’m not surprised by my paranoia. Especially considering Conner’s choice of friends. But he’s a professor at this college, and it wouldn’t be odd for him to know what classes I take.

“I must have forgotten,” I think out loud, grabbing onto the straps of my backpack.

“You seem stressed, Lyra. I know you run in the same social circle as Thatcher, and I heard about what happened with his grandmother. It was an awful thing, and with him being missing, that would take a toll on anyone.”

Conner tilts his head, looking me up and down as if to check for injuries or bruises. “I guess I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.” My voice cracks like a whip in the relaxed air, an unwarranted reaction that comes out far harsher than I intended. A reflex of sorts with this topic of conversation. My shift in attitude must have come as a shock to Conner as well because the muscle in his jaw twitches.

I watch his grip on the desk tighten ever so slightly. My last intention is to offend him, but offending my friendship with Conner Godfrey is the least of my worries. I can’t have him suspecting our intentions with Stephen, how close we are to finding something to nail him.

This could’ve ruined all the information we have gathered, all because I have no hold over my emotional recoil.

“I’m sorry.” I twist the ring on my finger, letting out a shaky breath. “It’s been a long few months. That wound is fresh—I know you’re just worried about me. Forgive me?”

He stares blankly at me before blinking away the vacant expression on his face. The normal, relaxed smile returns.

“Already forgiven. Don’t apologize for having emotions, Miss Abbott. It’s a gift to feel as passionately about people as you do.”

I give him an apologetic smile, hoping for all our sakes this wasn’t a fuckup on my part.

“Now for the reason I drug you into my dungeon.” Clasping his hands in front of him, he clears his throat. “The forensic entomology program at Dartmouth informed me you denied the application.”

Fuck me.

I’d completely forgotten about that.

“Conner, I was meaning to talk to you about that.” I bite down on my bottom lip, anxious for some reason. I don’t want to let him down; he’s a person I view as a mentor, and he believed in me enough to give me this opportunity. Of course I’m nervous telling him I rejected the offer.

“I’m beyond thankful for the opportunity. It’s just bad timing, and I don’t think it’s the best fit for me right now. My friends…” I trail off, looking out the windows for a moment. “I can’t leave them—I don’t want to leave them. Not yet.”

I don’t want to leave Thatcher.

Not now, never.

But I keep that truth tucked away for myself.

To his credit, he keeps the same smile on his face. The same one he always sports, that lighthearted one that reminds me of the Conner I got to know over the summer.

“Your loyalty is one of the many things I admire about you. They are lucky, those friends of yours, to have someone like you.”

“Thank you, and I’m sorry you stuck your neck out for me. I know it wasn’t easy getting me an application.”

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