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“Hi.” He doesn’t smile, but I’m getting used to that, even though I wish I wasn’t.
Impulsively, I lean in for a hug—mainly because it feels awkward not to but also because I just really want to. This is Jaxon, after all, and though the look in his eyes gives me a chill, I’m not about to push him away. Not when he’s made the effort to come to me.
I get the impression that he puts up with the hug for as long as he can—about ten seconds, really—before he pulls away. “What are you doing out here?” he asks.
“Enjoying the weather before I have to get to my next class.” I look him over as we start to walk, startled that he looks skinnier than he did just a couple of days ago. “What about you?”
He shakes his head, gives a little shrug. And keeps walking so fast that I have to scramble to catch up.
I don’t like the awkward silence between us, so I cast around for something to say. I settle on, “Did you have a good—” then break off, because I already know how his weekend went. He spent most of it at Court with his parents, so probably not all that well.
Without an ending to the sentence, though, the first half is just hanging there, waiting for me to finish it or for him to smooth it over.
But he hasn’t smoothed things over in weeks, not since our mating bond broke, and I’m suddenly so nervous that I can’t think of anything else to say. Not one single thing to say to this boy who was once my mate.
I hate it so much.
What’s happened to us? Where have all the conversations about nothing and everything gone? Where have all the feelings gone?
They couldn’t have just disappeared, right? Couldn’t have existed only because of the mating bond. Some of them had to be real—for both of us.
I know mine were real. If they weren’t, my heart wouldn’t feel like it was breaking wide open at everything we’ve lost. I told Hudson I wanted to give our mating bond a chance, and I meant it. But that doesn’t mean I can’t mourn my relationship with Jaxon. Can’t wish we could at least be friends now.
What happened to us? I think again, then freeze as I realize that this time, I’ve spoken out loud.
Jaxon’s face closes up—a feat I didn’t think was possible, considering what he’s looked like since I saw him across the lake—and for a minute, I’m convinced that not only is he not going to answer, but that he’s about to walk away as well.
Not that I blame him. We’re going to great pains to pretend that everything is at least a little bit normal, so it really sucks that I just blew all that right out of the water.
But he doesn’t walk away, and he doesn’t ignore what I said. Instead, he looks down at me with those dark eyes of his, eyes that are anything but cold and removed, and answers, “Too fucking much.”
Promises Made,
Promises Broken
I hate to admit it, but he’s not wrong. Too much has happened for things to feel normal between us now—or maybe ever again. It sucks, yeah, but there’s a relief in hearing him admit it, a relief in having the words, and the sentiment, out in the open…no matter what happens next.
“What are we going to do?” I ask as we start walking again.
“The same thing as always,” Jaxon answers. “Whatever we have to do to survive.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure it’s worth it.” My mind whirls, trying to think of a non-“us” topic to discuss. Something bland. Something two exes who are friends would discuss. I settle on, “Well, with as much history class as I have to catch up on, surviving doesn’t sound so easy.”
Then I wait, breath held, to see if Jaxon will meet me halfway. To see if there’s at least a chance that we can be friends.
He doesn’t answer right away, and for a while the only sound is that of our boots crunching along the path. The silence stretches so long that eventually I have to let out my held breath, and as I do, my shoulders sag with the grief of it all. Of what we were and what we have become.
But then Jaxon glances at me out of the corner of his eye and asks, “Still having trouble?”
“I know. Believe me, I know how ridiculous it sounds to be drowning in a history class of all things. I just need to read and memorize, right? No big deal. But honestly, it’s so much harder than that. There are all these case studies we’re supposed to go over and then weigh in on, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to think about them, let alone what I’m supposed to write.”
“I imagine it’s hard coming into thousands of years of history for the first time,” he adds.
“Right?” I throw up my hands in frustration. “I know the basic historical event—like the Salem Witch Trials—but the new version of events they’re teaching me is so different from anything I’ve ever imagined that it’s hard to get my mind around it.”
Jaxon makes a sympathetic noise. “That sounds like a lot.”
“It is a lot. Finding out that what I consider historical facts are really just one side’s opinion…” I use my hand to show my mind blowing up. “It’s worse than my Physics of Flight class, and that one is pretty much an unmitigated disaster.”
“You know, Grace.” Jaxon gives me the side eye. “You really don’t have to hold things in so much. You should tell me how you really feel.”
“Wow, someone’s extra sarcastic this morning.” I stick my tongue out at him. “Bite me.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” He leans forward, fangs at the ready, and I laugh. Push him away.
Still, for a second, all the awfulness clears, and it’s like it used to be.
Jaxon must feel the same way, because he asks, “What flavor of ice cream do vampires like best?”
It’s my turn to side eye him. “Blood sherbet?”
He laughs. “Good guess, but no.” He pauses, then says, “Vein-illa.”
It’s so bad—so bad—but for a moment it’s like having the old Jaxon back, and he looks so proud of himself that I can’t help cracking up. “That’s awful. Like really, really awful. You know that, right?”
“It made you laugh.”
“Apparently, I like awful.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I’ve noticed that about you lately.”
It’s a swipe at Hudson, and normally I’d call him on it. But things are going so well that I just roll my eyes back at him and keep walking.
“You know, if you need help with your history class, I’m here,” Jaxon says after we’ve walked about a quarter of a mile in silence. “Paranormal history is kind of a must-know for a prince.”
“Oh, right. I bet.” I start to think I should turn him down—I don’t want to rock the boat. But the truth is, the end of the semester is closing in on me, and I’m freaking out. “That would be awesome. Thank you. A lot.”
Jaxon looks a little uncomfortable—whether that he offered to help me or the enthusiasm with which I accepted it—but I’m too desperate to let him off the hook now.
Instead, I say, “When can we start?”
He shrugs. “Whenever you want.”
“I’m free this afternoon if you are.”
“I’m not,” he tells me with a shake of his head, “but I can be. Let me clear things off, and I’ll text you.”
Now I feel bad. “You don’t have to do that. I can wa—”
He cuts me off with a look. “You don’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do anymore.”
“Yeah, right.” I snort. “Because that’s how things ever went with us.”
He grins but doesn’t say anything else until we come to the path that will take us to the castle door. “How is everything going?” he asks. “With you and Hudson, I mean.”
It feels like a loaded question, one that will destroy the fragile peace that’s sprung up between Jaxon and me. At the same time, he has the right to know—more so than anyone else in the school, save the two of us.
I sigh. “It’s complicated.”
“He’s a complicated guy.” Jaxon crooks a brow. “But I was talking about the whole arrest thing. Have you guys come up with a plan?”
“Beyond finding the Blacksmith, you mean?” I shake my head. “We’ve got nothing.”
He nods, swallows. Then very quietly asks, “Do you need some help?”
“Finding the Crown?” I swing around so I can get a good look at his expression. “I thought you didn’t like that idea.”
“I don’t.” His mouth twists, making his scar stand out in stark definition. “But I like the idea of you and my brother going to prison less, so I guess we do what we can do.”
“Even if it’s a dead end?”
“What’s this I’m hearing?” He pretends to be shocked. “Doom and gloom? From you?’
I elbow him lightly in the side. “It does happen on occasion, you know.”
“Well, cut it out. It’s my job to be the pessimist and your job to convince me otherwise. Besides, I had enough bad news this weekend to last me for a while, thank you very much.”
That’s not unexpected, considering he just spent a couple of days gathering intel at the Vampire Court, but that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. “Was it really that bad?” I ask.