Page 77 of The Devils of Saint City

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me.” He leans in to kiss me, but it’s brief. “Sorry you never got to do that while she was awake, by the way. It’s a different world.”

I know. I also know I haven’t earned that... I probably never will. “Glad you did at least. If she never comes home, I get it if you want to leave too. You could go find her.”

Even saying it hurts in a way I’ve never experienced before, but I find I actually mean it.

“Fuck you. We get her back together or we never get her back at all,” he mutters. “But it’s... different now, isn’t it? With us.”

“I don’t think that hole will ever be filled, and I honestly don’t even want to try. Only she can fill it.”

“Then let’s hope she comes home. Go check her location again, tell me where she’s at.”

He doesn’t have to ask me twice.

It’s weird they’re already home from that fancy restaurant, but I guess our girl decided to do takeout instead. When I tell him her location I know he feels just as relieved as I do about her staying indoors. Blair’s one of the toughest people I know, and if they’re at home together, we know she’ll be safe between the two of them. They can kick some ass if they need to, but to make usfeel a little better, we make ourselves comfortable on the couch and pull up the video feed to see for ourselves.

We may have let her go free from under our noses, but she’ll never truly be rid of us. It’s not in our nature.

31

Each time I wake up at Blair’s, I hate it a little more. She’s been nothing but warm and welcoming since I got here, but it’s a stone-cold reminder that I’m nothome.That I’ll never be home again, at least not the home that I want.

It’s been a week with no contact. I thought for sure they’d change their minds by now, tell me they want me to come back — but my phone has been drier than the desert. When I ask Blair if they’ve texted her, she looks at me with pity and changes the subject.

So no, then.

After months of being all they thought about, they’ve completely cut me off. It feels unreal, even now. But it’s true, and that means I need to start thinking about my future.

The first thing I need to do is get my own place. Somewhere that has no ties to them or this town, to my Black Widow mother or my phone sex clients. My sexsomnia website is down for good, so that’s gone, and I’ve been thoroughly fired from my job for no-showing so many days in a row.

All I need to do is find a place far away from here and change my last name while I’m at it. As much as I want to honor my step-father and keep the memory of all that Asher could’ve become alive, I need a clean slate. If I’m ever going to move forward, I have to bury my past so deep that it’ll never resurface.

So... one step at a time.

“What are you doing?” Blair asks, peeking over my shoulder. Her long dark hair slides onto the back of my neck and makes us both chuckle, so I move to the side so she can see.

“Looking for a house. It’s not going very well.”

“Why not?”

Because I’m stubborn, because I can’t seem to find one that matches Asher’s layout exactly, because I feel like a dragon hoarding gold now that I have more money than I’ve ever had in my life. “I’m just not finding anything that feels worth the price.”

“You don’t mean money, do you.”

It’s not a question, yet I glare at her nonetheless for trying to pry the information out of me. “Yes, the price. But also the rest of it too,” I add in a mumble. “This one’s almost six hours from here.”

She nods slowly, kneeling next to me. “I don’t care how far it is, I’ll help you move if that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s not and she knows it.

Part of me wants to stay here in case they change their mind, but I don’t even know what I want. I have freedom for the first time, true freedom. I don’t have to worry about money or getting evicted from an apartment, I don’t have to worry about people knowing who my mom is or judging me for the job I no longer have. I don’t have to rely on a stepbrother who hates me or his wishy-washy friend.

I can do this on my own now.

Theoretically, this is all I ever wanted. The freedom to be able to live my own life on my own terms. It’s right here. Not only can I taste it, I fuckinghaveit, and I don’t have to feel bad about it, either.

The money they gave me is restitution for months of imprisonment, for months of using my body how they pleased. It’s payment for a job done. It wasn’t some handout I’ll have to pay back one day.

I earned every fucking penny.

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