Page 50 of The Entanglement of Rival Wizards (Magic and Romance #1)

Everything my dad said rolls over me at once and pain lances through my chest, gouging from the base of my throat straight down into my gut. I whimper at the force of it.

“It’s too much,” I say, pathetic and pained, and I bend into Thio, clinging to him, grounding myself in him.

“I know, baby.” He strokes my hair. “Don’t decide anything tonight. Let’s go up to bed. We can—”

“If I’m suing your family, would you still want to be with me?”

His hand flattens against my head, holding my face into his neck. “If you’re suing my family, would you still want to be with me?” he returns quietly.

I rest my forehead on his sternum, absorbing as much of his scent as I can, each breath relaxing another muscle, another, until I’m boneless.

“Orok?” I ask, voice muffled in Thio’s chest.

“Here. Alive. Barely.” He gulps from his water bottle. “What the fuck.”

I laugh. It grows, crushes me, and I twist out of Thio’s hold to scrub my hands over my eyes, dislodging my glasses.

When I can see, Orok’s sprawled back in his chair, face gaunt.

He holds my gaze for one unspoken moment.

By the third summer, we didn’t have to speak to communicate.

It was better not to, better not to let slip anything the instructors could use as ammo.

Every time they’d announce a new challenge, I’d look at Orok, and he’d convey the full weight of his fear and exhaustion and steadiness in his eyes, in the pulse of his brow.

I’m here. I’m terrified but I’m here, and we’ll get through this together.

“Thio’s right,” he whispers. “Not tonight. This is—” He tosses the water bottle onto the table and stands. “I’m going to the gym.”

I flick my eyes to the clock on the microwave. “It’s almost ten.”

“And it’s open ’til midnight. I’ll be back. I need to—”

He stops. Hands opening and closing at his sides.

“No matter how long it’s been,” he says, attention on the floor. “It’s like I’m a kid again.”

He looks at me, and I know. No matter how thick the scar tissue, the wound beneath is always raw.

More tears well and I wipe them away, unable to speak.

Orok uses the sleeve of his shirt to wipe his own eyes and heads to the door to grab his keys.

But he doubles back, bends over me on the couch, and plants a kiss on my forehead. “It’s gonna be okay, yeah? This was probably a good thing.”

I snort. “Take your therapizing and sweat it out at the gym.”

Orok holds his fist out to Thio.

Head cocked curiously, Thio bumps it.

“I’m so glad his stubborn ass is someone else’s problem now,” Orok tells him.

“Hey,” I manage, head lolling on Thio’s shoulder.

Orok smiles at me.

We’ll get through this together.

“If you can’t sleep tonight,” I tell him, “wake me up.”

His smile widens into a snort. “So I can cuddle between you and Thio? Tempting, Seb. Really.”

I kick his shin. “I’m serious, O.”

Orok’s face does something complicated. A shift, a hard sniff, and he nods. “I know you are.”

He leans over to kiss my forehead again.

“Love you,” he whispers.

“Love you too.”

He leaves with a parting wave.

Silence blankets us in his absence.

Thio traces the shell of my ear. “Don’t factor me in,” he says.

I rock my head toward him, reactions muffled, delayed.

“If worrying about me is what ends up holding you back in any lawsuit,” he expands. “Don’t factor me in.”

I sit up so I can see him better. Exhaustion is dominating my movements now, each blink too slow, reality blurring at the edges.

But his meaning hits me with a jolt of worry. “You don’t want to be a factor?”

Thio runs his thumb along my chin. His expression is hardened, like he can see a resolution coming, and it’s inevitable.

“I’m saying if your only holdup is me, don’t let it be.

I don’t care what fallout would come from my family—you have the chance to do something.

To stand up against them, to stand up for yourself .

Few people get that chance.” He inhales sharply, exhales long and resigned.

“It would break my heart if you held back from that because of me.”

I lean into his hand. “I’d wait until after you graduated. Until you got a job, and were secure. I wouldn’t—it wouldn’t be anytime soon.”

“Are you considering it, then?” His tone is tentative. Unsure. Hopeful?

Yes. No. I don’t know.

My dad believes me.

An ache thuds across my head and I wince.

“Distract me. Please. I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

Thio’s demeanor changes. Shifts to the situation, to what I need.

He’s always doing that, adapting to me like a chameleon, and I should feel guilty for how often he slips into that role. But right now, I’m choking, and he’s turning into air for me.

He tugs on the collar of my shirt. “We could talk about how I just met your parents.”

A weak smile pulls over my mouth. “Yeah. Well. I met your mom before we were even dating, so.”

“And you introduced me as your boyfriend.”

Thio’s pupils dilate, and my face warms.

“You liked that, huh?” I ask, raspy.

He nods, possession intensifying in his gaze, in the set of his shoulders.

I try to lean into him. To kiss him, or crawl into his lap. To utter a bunch of mushy bullshit that’d make saying my boy friend sound dull by comparison.

But all I do is teeter, and then he’s bringing my head to his lips and pressing kisses to my eyelids.

“Now, I’m taking my boyfriend to bed,” he tells me. “And we’re going to sleep.”

“That’s not fun.”

“I dunno. Falling asleep with you in my arms?” He peels me off the couch; everything’s half dream already. “Sounds like the perfect end of the night to me.”

For two people who built a relationship on screaming at each other, Thio’s good at saying things I can’t argue with.