Page 28 of Speak No Evil

Not now.

Not yet.

Not when I still haven’t processed everything. How can I tell her that Noah—her first and only bone-friend deemed worth to make a boyfriend—betrayed her, used her to get to me?

She squeezes my shoulder. “Anything, Jade. How can I help?”

A fresh wave of tears stain my pillow as I answer her question. “Just go.”

She sucks in a sharp breath—surprised, I’m sure—pats my shoulder and leaves without question. “I’m only a call away,” she says before closing the door behind her.

It’s dark when the lords return. They bring a cloud of unwarranted shame and guilt, and I just...

I can’t.

I can’t handle their guilt and mine.

Their trauma can’t weigh heavier on me than my own. My coven took me. Tortured me. But the lords are in here day after day, stinking up the place with their emotions.

“Please, just go. I can’t. I need time.”

“Jade...” Vrahs pleads, but I jut a leg out of the covers and point a toe at the door.

And when they do, I fall asleep.

The lords don’t bother me the rest of the night, or the following morning. It’s not until midday that the door creaks open.

I have my toe cocked and ready to show them the door, when a voice I don’t expect settles every awful feeling. “Hey. Shit sucks right about now, huh?”

I don’t know if it’s her fae power, or that she wasn’t involved in any part of this, but the sound of AJ’s voice knocks away the top layer of awful.

She doesn’t make herself busy cleaning the room, or airing it out, either because there’s no need or it’s simply not her way.

And she doesn’t sit on the edge of the bed, or in the chairs that surround me. No, AJ gets in the bed with me, spooning me from behind.

For the first time in almost a week, I rip the cover off my head and cry.

Let’s be clear. I’m not crying over Kayla’s death. I did what I had to. Even if witch law didn’t support it, I’d still have no problem ending her exactly the way I did.

She doesn’t deserve my tears.

My tears are all for me. For every pigheaded decision I made that got me here. For having latent trauma around my coven that made me freak out in the kitchen. For being a little bitch and staying in bed for a week because I can’t deal with reality.

That’s what I’m crying about.

After several minutes, I wipe my nose on the covers and sit up. AJ does the same.

“Girl, you’ve definitely looked better,” she says, surveying the bedhead and swollen face.

I roll my eyes at her. “Just what I need. A critique of my breakdown.”

AJ shrugs, smiling. “Look, all I’m saying is you could use a shower or ten.”

That earns her a hearty laugh, and when it fades, we stare at each other unguarded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“Only if you promise not to use your mojo on me to make me talk about it.”

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