Page 18 of Splintered Memories
I tried not to let that minor similarity make him seem more amiable. August wasn’t here to be my friend. He was here as an employee of my father. An employee expected to be in my presence for nearly twenty-four freaking hours a day and live in my damn house.
I shuddered at the thought of everything that was happening and how I felt utterly out of control to stop any of it.
When I turned around, August was staring. I sipped my coffee, letting the warmth of it flow through me and ease my tense muscles.
His head tilted to the side as he surveyed me. It seemed as if his expression was almost…guarded. Like he was trying to hide his thoughts, though I could’ve sworn there was a hint of regret in his eyes.
“I don’t plan on going anywhere…at least not for a while.” He turned back to the cereal and consumed another mouthful.
My fingers clenched around my hot mug, the stinging heat biting into my skin. I didn’t want to let my anger and annoyance get the best of me so early in the day, but I wasn’t trying that hard to stop it.
I marched over to the breakfast nook and slammed my mug down on the table, stifling a wince when some of my precious coffee sloshed over the edge.
August stilled, his eyes catching on the mug that I now realized probably looked ridiculous. It was shaped like a cat, with actual pointed ears that stuck up above the rim like two little triangles. Its green, cat eyes stared right at him, and I swore I saw the catch in his throat where he swallowed his chuckle.
He was infuriating.
Before I thought it through, I reached for him, one hand curling around his bowl while the other gripped the box of cereal, and I yanked them both away from him. Then, I sat in the chair opposite him, the cereal and bowl now on my side of the table.
He quirked a brow.
I stared at him pointedly. “This ismycereal,” I said between clenched teeth.
Again, bemusement danced in his eyes, grating on my nerves that were raw at this point. He leaned back, raising his palms out toward me. “My bad.”
When I did nothing in reply, he let out a long breath. “Look, I know this is a lot to get used to. I’m not exactly thrilled about this arrangement myself, but,” he paused, eyes trailing over my face, “we might as well try to make the best of it.”
My eyes widened. “Make the best of it?” My hands gripped the sides of the table hard, my knuckles turning white. I leaned toward him—toward this almost complete stranger who was suddenly living in my house and eating my food and drinking my damn coffee. “I don’t want to make the best of it. In fact, I don’t really even want to talk to you. Ever.”
I clamped my mouth shut, and then I stiffly reached for my stupid cat mug and held it to my chest, letting the comforting scent wash over me.
“Don’t you think that’ll make things a little…awkward?”
I stared down into the dark liquid in my mug, and then I shook my head. I didn’t care.
Another sigh came from his side of the table. Then, his voice so low I wasn’t sure whether I heard correctly, he said, “I’m sorry, Emersyn.” He paused, and then added, “I shouldn’t have eaten your food without asking. That was rude of me.”
I blinked, forcing my gaze to stay pinned to my coffee. The last thing I’d expected from my little outburst was an apology, let alone an apology that sounded sincere.
I clenched my jaw, and before I could do something stupid like forgive him, I stood from the table and hurried away, locking myself downstairs in the safety of my studio.
Thenextfewdayscrawled by.
August was always there. Always.
I hid away as often as I could, immersing myself in work. It was easy, because it’s what I did often. This time of year was busier than normal. Every spring, the town held the annual Emberlight Festival, which was right around the corner. I always had a booth there for my podcast and had a little meet-and-greet with fans who wanted to come. It was my favorite event of the year. I loved it.
But today, I wasn’t seeking solace in my studio. Today was all about my best friend.
Best friend.
My hand tightened around my second glass of champagne. I glanced down into the shimmery, effervescent liquid for a few beats.
My best friend.
For a long time, my best friend was my sister.
A pang of grief hit my chest, sharp and vicious, and I clenched my jaw.
