Page 44 of Call It What You Want
Ava, pull it together. You have no reason to be embarrassed. Don’t let these people get to you.
Lifting my chin, I grab a red solo cup and pour myself something out of a pitcher. It’s red and could be anything, but I’m willing to risk it for a little liquid courage.
As I’m pouring, I look up and see a note taped to one of the cabinets, written in all caps. It catches my attention because I don’t remember seeing it earlier.
BRING NUTS INTO THIS HOUSE, AND I’LL PERSONALLY SLIT YOUR THROAT. —Christian.
“What the…?” I mumble to myself.
Across the kitchen, a girl with long dark hair and an oversized T-shirt is loading up a plate. At her feet, a golden retriever pants patiently—a red harness withLucy,andWorking Dog. Do Not Petembroidered across the side. The girl glances up at me briefly, then goes back to piling up her plate.
“Fucking annoying, right?” she laughs.
I shake my head. “Seems a bit aggressive.”
“Yeah. I’d risk a beheading and take it down, but the sign is for me, actually. I’m allergic to nuts, and Christian is a little protective about it.”
Ohhh.She must be his…consort? I’m still trying to figure out the inner workings of the Burning Crown. Brian explained the whole consort thing to me earlier, but the details are still a little hazy. All I know is that, every year, a different consort is chosen for each Sacred Son. Or…maybe it’s the Sacred Son who chooses? Yeah, I don’t know.
“Alittleprotective?” I laugh, and immediately regret how judgmental it sounds.
“Right?” she laughs. “He’s crazy. But, then again, they all are.”
Preach, sister.
“So why deal with it?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink. It’s sangria, and it’s not bad, actually. “Why not leave?”
She lowers her plate to Lucy’s level. The dog sniffs it briefly, then looks away, uninterested. I guess that means it’s safe, because the girl pops a piece of bread into her mouth.
“Good question,” she says between bites, thinking. Finally, she shrugs. “I guess it’s because ‘crazy’ is his love language.”
I’m not even sure what that means, but before I can ask, her voice softens, like she’s remembering something that cut deep and never quite healed right.
“Plus, you know…there’s an incredible freedom in being with someone who doesn’t need you to be perfect. I can let my guard down, show him my worst moods and strangest thoughts, and he just nods and pulls me closer. He doesn’t love an idealized version of me. He loves the real thing, you know?”
I stare at her, unsure what to say, but my thoughts are instantly cast back to my relationship with Jackson three years ago. I felt the exact same way then. He loved me, all my flaws and everything. The certainty of it made me feel safe, like I was finally seen. Finally whole.
But that was all an illusion, in the end.
She shrugs again, almost like she’s embarrassed by her own honesty. “That kind of love doesn’t come cheap.”
There’s an awkward few seconds of silence—the kind when a stranger has shared something far too personal, and you have no idea what to say—before she smiles, and says, “Well, I’d better get this down to the basement.”
The basement? Why in God’s name would she want to go down there?
My mind flashes to images of the dark, musky space, the small cell-like room in the back, and Jackson’s fists driving into a man named Sin.
My gaze flicks to the pile of food on her plate. “You don’t want to eat that down at the beach?” I ask.
She opens the basement door and ushers Lucy ahead of her. “Do me a favor, and don’t tell anyone I’m down in the basement, okay?”
Why? Does she know the person downstairs? I’m dying to ask her, but that question feels too personal. So, instead, I motion like I’m zipping my lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks.” She starts to turn toward the basement, then pauses, like she just remembered something. “I’m Eve, by the way.”
“Ava,” I say.
“I’ll be down at the beach a little later,” she says. “Maybe we can hang out? God knows we girls need to stick together.”
