Page 191 of Scattered Glitter

And Sylus.

He already declared he’s hers. He’s never been shy about that—protective to the point of recklessness, staking his claim with his words and actions, even if she hasn’t said she’s his in return.

He’s a goner for her.

Now, with her in my arms, her trust laid bare, I can’t deny it anymore.

It’s not just Sylus. It’s me too.

And fuck, if it doesn’t feel more and more like I’m hers as well.

What does that make us?

I’ll have to talk to Sylus before I can talk with her.

Tomorrow, I’ll figure it out. Tonight, I’ll hold her close, feel her heartbeat slowly sync with mine, and hope like hell we’re not all headed for something we won’t be able to come back from.

CHAPTER FORTY

Novalee

It was a mistake to come down here early. The street outside my apartment is quiet, but the nerves and anticipation inside me are loud enough to fill the space. I can’t help but shift from foot to foot, anxiety buzzing through me as I tug at my top.Casual,I remind myself, even though that’s a loose definition when it comes to my wardrobe.

My closet is divided into glittery clubwear and ratty clothes, so this outfit was the best I could do—jeans that make my ass look good, a bit of glitter on the top because, well, that’s me, and just enough cleavage to make a point.

I’ve been checking my phone every ten seconds, definitely because of my nerves about the drive. It has nothing to do with seeing Nicholas.

Absolutely nothing to do with him and his stupidly perfect face.

Speaking of perfect faces, Koen’s words echo in my mind then, the calm, steady instructions he gifted me with, repeating them until they finally stuck in my chaotic brain.

“Just focus on breathing. On the now. You’re safe.”

I practice it as I breathe deeply, and my mind has just started to settle when my phone buzzes in my hand with a message from the man himself as if he felt I was thinking about him.

Fucking mentalist.

How are you holding up?

I stare at the text for a second, feeling heat rise in my cheeks.

Why is he even texting me after last night?

After I spilled my guts, dredged up the worst parts of myself, and then practically threw myself at him. Only to be turned down. I practically melted onto his lap, sobbing my heart out and begging for an escape, and he didn’t want to sleep with me.

He pity finger fucked me.

It was embarrassing. Mortifying, even. I might have found the one straight guy who doesn’t want to fuck me. And, of course, he’s one of the guys I’d really like to fuck.

Still, a part of me knows it was worth it. I mean, yeah, I feel exposed, raw, and embarrassed as hell, but based on the newfound sense of relief I’ve been carrying alongside those emotions ever since my breakdown.

I think I needed to say those things out loud, even if only once.

Koen gets it, maybe not the guilt or the specifics, but he understands the loss, how I’ve been dragging it around like a shadow all these years.

He got me thinking about the other Rosie, though.HisRosie. I’ve been sitting in front of her grave for years, using it as a stand-in, but I never thought about who she was. Or how she died. Just thinking about it puts a heavy weight on my chest.

I should bring her flowers or something.

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