Page 67 of Made in Malice

“I’m fine,” I say too quickly when the truth is my wrist hurts like hell from the way I landed, but there’s no way I would let either of them see that.

Using only my good hand, I pick myself up out of the sand again and brush my butt off. Nox rises with me and apologizes. “I’m sorry.” He sounds ashamed, but I’m not going to absolve him. He knew exactly what he was doing when he invited his brother.

“I think I’ve had enough of the beach. I’ll see myself out.” I’m proud that my voice doesn’t crack, even though I’m so mad at myself and them that I could cry.

“Let me walk you,” Nox offers.

I put up a hand and back away. “No thanks.”

Something in his expression shifts, and he almost looks sad, but I don’t know him well enough to discern if that’s true. “Okay, yeah,” he agrees as he’s racked with a shiver.

I spin then, walking as fast as I can over the sand until I reach the manicured grass and walkway, never once looking backward.

NOVA

My wrist is still sore when I clock in for my shift on Wednesday. I was tempted to call off, but I want to know if the stranger will return, and let’s be honest, I don’t get much interaction with humans, and I’m feeling pretty damn isolated. At least at work I can have a friendly conversation, even if it’s fake.

Unfortunately, Mickey is far too observant and realizes there’s something wrong with me a few hours into my shift. “You all right, darlin’? You seem to be favoring your right hand.”

I smile. “Wrenched my wrist a few days ago, I’m okay though.”

“Few days ago, and it’s still hurting ya?”

“Not as bad as it was,” I tell him honestly.

“Might have sprained it,” he offers.

“It’ll heal.” I use my right hand when I grab the next bottle to prove a point.

“We haven’t been very busy tonight. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind heading out early,” he says, and I know it’s about my wrist and not because we’re slow. Or maybe he thinks I’m not pulling my weight and wants to send me home.

“Whatever you think, Mickey, I’m good to work, or I can head out whenever you want,” I agree.

“Let’s see how the next hour goes.” He pats my shoulder.

When Mickey makes his rounds again, I can see it in his face that I’m being sent home. “Go home and rest, Nova. I need you more Friday and Saturday,” he tells me solemnly.

“If it’s still bothering me tomorrow after school, I’ll get it looked at,” I lie. I don’t need any more medical bills, and an X-ray could cost me a couple hundred bucks. I’ll do some magic with an Ace bandage or a splint. He’ll never know.

“Take care of yourself, Nova,” he tells me as I clock out. I feel bad that the place is still pretty busy, but there’s not much I can do besides get pissed at Lucian all over again. I haven’t seen either brother since it happened, which is a relief.

Late that night, I started to think that maybe it was my own fault that I fell for not keeping my mouth shut, but I’m only mad that it was all a waste of time and I didn’t learn anything, because there’s no way I’m upset about what Lucian did. It’s something I expected from him, even if he caught me off guard. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.

I slowly walk to my car, giving the woman time to make herself known if she’s here, but the only people I see are small groups and couples. Even after climbing into the driver’s seat, I still don’t rush to leave, but it’s not like anyone is expecting me anyway. I barely even see Rory and Astrid. It’s like they know I have questions and they are suddenly avoiding me.

The passenger side door opens, and I sit there stunned as Lucian pours his body into the seat. “You should really lock your doors.” He manages to insult me while he’s the one getting into my car without an invitation.

“Get out.” I didn’t know how mad I was at him until I saw his stupid face. At some point, I let myself believe he wouldn’t hurt me, despite him telling me he would, and that’s on me, but I’m not falling for it again.

“No,” he states calmly without even bothering to look over at me.

“Fine.” I fumble for the door handle and get out to leave him inside. I make it about ten steps from my car before he grabs my wrist and wrenches me around. I howl in pain, and he releases me, jumping back as if I burned him. Tears that I refuse to let fall prick at my eyes as I cradle my arm to my chest.

“What is wrong with you?” he accuses, but his eyes are wild.

“Nothing.”

“Fuck you. You’re lying.”

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