Page 86 of Roses in Summer

“Would it make you happy if I did?” I bite on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling because I can tell that in her inebriated mind, she’s serious. Looking over her head, I meet Olivia’s eyes, a hard look passing over her features before she evens them out, adopting a blank stare.

“You must be Olivia.”

“And you must be the guy with a girlfriend.” Her eyebrow rises as she speaks, the blank stare becoming hostile again.

I meet Olivia’s stare, annoyance bleeding into my voice. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well, you did until five minutes ago. So what is it that you want with my drunk friend? Because if you try to take advantage of her, I will not hesitate to blow out your kneecaps.”

I’m happy Seraphina has a bloodthirsty counterpart, especially because she’s so goddamn sweet. In some ways, Olivia’s warning reminds me a lot of Celeste and her protective nature toward Ava. Still, the idea of hurting Seraphina is laughable since all I want to do is worship her.

“I’d never hurt her.” My voice is hard, a warning to Olivia that such a suggestion is bullshit. “But I am going to get her home.”

“I don’t want to go to your bed, Lincoln.” Seraphina shakes her head, hitting my torso with her thick bun.

“So you’ll go to yours.”And so will I, I add in my head. Though not to take advantage of her, as Olivia erringly suggested, but to watch over her and make sure she knows I’m there. I don’t know Seraphina as an adult, one who can legally walk into a bar and drink. But something in my gut tells me that this is an abnormal display, and something happened.

“I’ll be home in two hours. If you do anything to her—”

I hold up my hand, cutting the statuesque bartender off. “Kneecaps, I got it.”

She holds up the soft-drink gun at me, her finger hovering over a button. “I’ll paint you in cranberry juice, so watch it. Now get her home.” She pauses to nod at Seraphina. “Something’s up with her, and she won’t tell me.”

My eyes narrow at her words. Lifting my hands from Sera’s shoulders, I turn her body around on the stool to get a better look at her face. Like every time I see her, I’m momentarily struck by her beauty. “Hi, ciern,” I murmur, raising my hands to cup her jaw. She closes her eyes at the contact, seemingly breathing me in as I stand as close to her as the stool will allow. “You ready to head back to your apartment?”

She nods her head against my hands, her eyes wide and glassy as they take me in. “My address is—”

I shake my head, cutting her off. “I know where you live, Seraphina.”

“How— Ava?” she drawls. “Of course it was Ava.”

I laugh at the faux annoyance on her face. “It was Grey, actually. He thought I should know where you lived, just in case.”

“In case of what? You wanted to climb into her window?” Olivia adds, and for a minute, I forgot she was standing there.

I shake my head, keeping my voice even as I reply, “In case there was ever any trouble or if Seraphina needed me.”

“Oh,” Sera whispers, tilting her face into my left palm.

“Yeah, ‘Oh.’ Let’s get out of here?”

In an attempt that I can only describe as an uncoordinated slide, Seraphina falls from the front of the stool, almost collapsing in her haste to stand. I catch her as she tumbles, absorbing her weight and keeping her upright.

“You are definitely related to Ava.” Olivia snorts from behind the bar, and I don’t stop the laugh that falls from my mouth. While Seraphina’s struggle to stand is uncoordinated at best, Ava would have been sprawled out on the floor, a sack of bones and sarcastic quips, with a skinned knee and blood.

“Let’s go, ciern,” I whisper into her ear before bending down and capturing her body, bringing her up to my chest bridal-style. I expect her to complain, to ask me to put her down or insist she can walk.

I anticipate some kind of fight, one that I’ll have to douse. But she does none of that. Instead, she drops her head to my chest and inhales, settling against me as though it’s the place she’s supposed to be.

—

It was a short, uneventful drive from Legends to Seraphina’s shared apartment. After buckling her in the car and ensuring that she wasn’t going to throw up on herself, I took the roads slowly, mindful of turns and any sudden movements that could jostle her. I pulled into a parking spot at the front of her building, threw the car in park, and turned off the ignition.

We’ve been sitting in silence for the last five minutes, our breaths the soundtrack of the evening. I don’t miss the way she continues to stare out the window, her head inverted from my gaze, or how her fists are clenched against her thighs. Something’s wrong, something she tried to mask with alcohol and a playful smile.

“What happened tonight, ciern?”

She takes a minute to consider my words, her face still turned away from me. Finally, she responds, “Mitch came to the library tonight.”

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