Page 90 of White Raven
He deserved that. The best thing he could do for Sarah right now was to let her cool down the way she’d needed to after his other shitty decision. Give her space. Give her time. Give her a fucking chance to forgive him, yet again.
That was the tricky thing about allowing himself to love. He told her he was no good at it. That he’d never done it before. It had taken him a fair amount of poking and prodding just to be able to say it to her, the first time being while she was unconscious after touching herself while he had been the very object of her darkest desires. This is just the way it was between them. Insanity. Blessed…beautiful…fucking infuriating insanity. They’d be alright. They had to be. He had to allow her the time she deserved to hate him for being himself. Athan turned on his heel, pocketing his hands in his leather jacket and staring at his feet as he trudged back to the car.
“Not so fast, boy!” Nell’s familiar voice rang out in the alley. He stopped short and turned to see her hobbling towards him. Not allowing her to waddle the whole way, he met her in the middle. “What’d you do?” she asked.
Athan shrugged, his eyes finding his boots again. “I fell for somebody just as iron-headed as I am.”
“You didn’t just fall for any hard-headed woman, Athan,” Nell bit, raising his chin. “You fell forthatone. And I shouldn’t have to remind you how special she is.”
“You barely know her, Nell.”
“I know enough, after recently.” She dropped her hand and reached into her sweater, handing him a sealed envelope.
“What is this?” he asked, making to open it. She stopped him, placing a hand over his.
“I haven’t told her yet. When you read these…I think you’ll be grateful you can’t die from heart failure. I’ll say this. I don’t need to ask about whatever is in that bag she’s got to know exactly who her father is, and why neither of you have been able to put these pieces together yet. But if you still want me to talk to my friends, I will…for you.”
His heart started slamming against his ribs, and he stared at her aged complexion, realizing whatever truth she’d found was in his hands—and that if he opened this without her, she might never forgive him for it. He glanced at the open back door and stepped toward it, halted by Nell’s arm. “I’ve gotta tell her, Nell.”
“Why doesn’t she want to see you?”
“It’s a misunderstanding,” he argued.
“You lied to her.”
He tightened his mouth, and his jaw ticked. “I kept something from her. Something important.”
Nell slowly nodded, dropping her arm. “Women are always gonna be a mystery to men. Immortal or not. But we’re far from a mystery to each other. You better take my advice. Let her be. When she comes home…open it together. She’s gonna need you when you do.” Her withered hand reached up and patted his face, and she turned to go back inside. She didn’t turn back around, instead she tossed her sagging chin over a shoulder. “Rest up, Kane. You’re gonna need your strength for the wild ride the two of you are about to be on, son.”
His entire ride home, while short, seemed excruciatingly long. Rhaena had tried calling twice, and he let it hit the voicemail, not deigning to deal with the possibility of more badfucking news. It seemed harsh, but even thinking of Rhaena at all right now pissed him off…even though he only had himself to blame for both the important women in his life being in a tight spot. He was so frustrated by the time he shoved his key into the door at the apartment, that he hadn’t even realized it was the wrong one, and nearly broke the right one trying to remedy it. The door slammed behind him as he tossed his keys to the counter and threw off his jacket. The envelope that Nell gave him skidded across the living room floor. He blew out a heavy breath, dragging his palms down his face, and bent down to pick it up when…
“Sorry, handsome…this might hurt.”
He didn’t have time to look behind him, before the sharp pain and crack of his neck breaking clouded his vision with darkness, and the world went black.
CHAPTER 17
BLAME GAME
His growing taste for cheap food was gonna make him into a potbelly, unemployed, fat fuck if he didn’t start giving a shit soon. Maybe he’d give oneafterthey made a home for this steaming carton of Chow Mein, pork fried rice, and sesame chicken—or maybe he’d giveseveral, depending on how much his grumbling stomach could take. Brent opened all the containers, divvying out portions between two plates at Wren’s small kitchen table, waiting for her to pop through the door any second. For what it was worth…being here felt—oddly comfortable. He couldn’t recall ever feeling this relaxed any time he’d been to Sarah’s place when they were together. Usually, he could never leave that apartment fast enough. So much about him was changing so fast that even Brent himself couldn’t keep up with who he was anymore.
He had only stayed over once, so far. That was two nights ago, and neither him nor Wren had gotten much sleep. Neither one really had any place to be the next morning and took that time to catch up on those lost hours. That was the first time he’d realized that Wren Vintorri was a god-awful snore—and a blanket hog. She must have also taken quite a bit of time out of her day every morning to do something about that crazy red hair. Every time he looked at her, no matter what state she was in, made him begin to realize that he may have never been in love before her…and that notion was crazy. How could someone so damn maddening make you feel so fucking lost without them? The whole ‘love at first sight’ thing must be the actual fairy tale. Months ago, he would have been happy never to have to hear hernagging bullshit. Now, going a day without her cut-throat insults caused the sky to be a little more gray…his smile a little less full.
Voices from behind the door sounded before the key slid into the knob, and it opened, Sarah following in behind Wren, and both of them appearing shocked to see him.
“Shit…Brent, I completely forgot, my dude. How long were you waiting?” Wren asked, locking up as Sarah stepped out of the way.
“Not long. It’s fine. I got enough for three.” He turned and pulled another plate from the cabinet.
“I don’t wanna impose,” Sarah said, throwing a palm up. Wren looked at her like she was flat-out stupid.
“Are you—get in there and sit down.” She snapped her fingers and pointed Sarah into the living room. Sarah glanced between them, smirking as she followed orders and made herself scarce. Not scarce enough, Brent realized, to miss the kiss Wren planted on him the minute she stepped into the kitchen. He caught Sarah’s figure in the corner of his eye through the breakfast nook over the sink.
“Did you take care of that little mishap?” she asked, picking up one of the cartons to sniff it.
“Don’t beat me, but no.” Her eyes rolled and she dropped the container back to the table. “They already ran the story before I could stop it.”
“So, there’s nothing we can do?”
