Page 74 of Rise of the Melody
He sat on the loveseat, looking comfortable with an arm draped over the back of the seat as he peered at Aunt Lorna. His eyes never left her.
“What are you doing here?” I hissed.
He was quiet for a long moment. “I think she was being honest, though I can’t understand it.”
“No shit,” I said. “It’s because someone blocked her memories.”
His eyes shot to mine, and he stood, moving quickly toward me. “Who?”
“I have no idea. Someone ancient and crusty.”
“Tell me how you know this.”
I told him everything, despite being pissed and wanting to punch him in his luscious mouth.
“When you were in Scotland, did you know any of the Synod members? Like, the really old ones?”
“No. The family who found me and cared for me told no one. Literally—”Litch-rally, “—only three people know I’m alive. Four now including you. But it would make sense, wouldn’t it?”
“What?” I asked.
“If one of those bastards had a hand in it all.”
His eyes fell on Aunt Lorna and became unfocused while he processed. A look of something crossed his face. Regret? But it passed quickly. Was he feeling bad about confronting my aunt and causing all of this? He should.
“How can we find out for sure?” I asked. “I don’t want them knowing what I am.”
He pondered this. “I need to think on it.”
I watched his face, and my mouth accidentally asked, “When did you get that scar on your chest?”
His eyes darted to mine for a long beat. “If I had to guess, I was thirteen.”
“How—”
“Don’t.” He stopped me.
“Okay.” I pressed my lips together.
An awkward pause passed before I glanced at the clock. “Look, I have to go.”
“Where?”
I reared back slightly. “I don’t have to tell you everything I do.” But I felt a little bad for him. Was he lonely? Did he have FOMO when I was hanging with my friends?
“You should at least attempt to be more focused,” he scolded. “Especially now.” He glanced at Aunt Lorna and a pang of guilt went through me.
“It’s not doing my aunt any good for me to sit around and not live. When the time is right, I will be focused.”
“We’ll see,” he muttered.
“Yeah, we will. Now get out.” It came out half-hearted, not as sassy as I’d intended, and after a drawn-out staring contest between us, he finally left the room first.
Chapter22
Wee Skye Island
Our group of six puttered out of the marina in a sea skiff that had been passed down to Teague for fishing. It was nice, but not fancy. I’d never been on a boat, so the rocking sensation and wind on my face was exhilarating, despite the chill, which I was starting to get used to. The night was clear, and the stars glittered off the sea. We stayed close to the island with the shore always in sight. Teague looked cute standing at the wheel in the middle, his hair slicked back by the air.
