Page 46 of Unbound

Xavier, Zeke, and Devon are all in Xavier’s office. I knock softly on the door.

“Larkin wants to meet with me,” I tell Xavier once he mutes the Zoom call they’re on. “Delphi texted.” He turns his computer toward Zeke, gives him a nod, and follows me into the hallway.

“Your brothers are coming with you,” he says. This time, I don’t bother arguing. I’m sure Leo and Antonio would insist on coming even if Xavier hadn’t. “They can’t sit in on the meeting, of course,” Xavier continues. “But I want them nearby.”

“Okay.” I put my hands on his chest and step closer. My whole body seems to exhale at once, my nervous system settling just from being near him. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. I lean into him, ignoring Victoria’s whining voice somewhere in the background. “I love you,” I say softly.

“And I love you,” he replies without hesitation. Is he feeling the same tension I felt last night? Is he ignoring the same nagging question buried beneath everything else? Maybe we’re just too different. Maybe this won’t work long-term. But really, what is long-term? What will life look like when I’m in my fifties or sixties? Physically, I’ll be old enough to be his mother. Will he still be attracted to me?

Will our relationship take on a different shape? I suppose there’s no point worrying about something thirty years away when I don’t even know what’s going to happen in the next thirty minutes.

“I’ll be careful,” I tell him, knowing he’s about to ask. “I’ll keep my phone in my pocket so you can see my location. Don’t worry about me.”

Xavier chuckles. “The day I don’t have to worry about you ending up in danger, Wren…” He trails off, shaking his head.

“When pigs fly,” I finish, smiling. I get far more enjoyment than I should out of knowing my quick exit pisses Victoria off. Antonio, meanwhile, is surprisingly excited that he gets to drive Xavier’s G-Wagon. He keeps complimenting the car as we head down the driveway, making the whole thing feel comfortingly normal.

“Okay,” Leo says once we’re about five minutes from home. “I hate to be the one to say it, but did we forget about Larissa?”

I laugh. Then realize he’s serious. “I didn’t forget about her, per se,” I begin. “But I do feel like she’s been pushed to the back burner.” I wince at my own words, though they’re true. “She’s in prison right now awaiting trial, and I’ve kind of rationalized it by telling myself she’s safe where she is. Nothing can get to her, and she can’t get to anyone.” I wait a beat. “We can go visit her soon. Xavier can get us in without anyone asking questions.”

I look down at the flowers printed across my sundress and trace the outline of one pink petal with my fingernail, taking a few seconds to choose my words carefully.

“She definitely had no idea about the arrangement with the vampires. But do you think she knew anything about the witches in that notebook?”

“The only way to know would be to ask her,” Antonio says, logical as always. I glance up at him in the rearview mirror. His grip tightens on the steering wheel. I know he’s about to say something he feels guilty even thinking, let alone admitting to us.

“I’d be careful going in there with too much information,” he says. “If she realizes she knows something you want, she’ll use it to her advantage.”

Leo, sitting in the passenger seat, turns and gives him a pointed look. Only a few seconds pass before he relents. “I’d be surprised if she knew more than we did.”

“Yeah. Me too, actually.” I dig my phone out of my purse. “I’ll see if Xavier can get records of everyone who’s visited her in the last couple weeks. Someone from the Order could’ve come in and tried to bribe or threaten her into keeping quiet.”

“That would track,” Antonio says.

Once we get downtown, we park a few blocks from the restaurant. I’m early, so I go into a coffee shop with my brothers. Ryder is there. Seeing him throws me for a second. Right. He came into town last night to bring us weapons.

I left before I had a chance to really say anything to him, but I remember the way he stood there looking at me while I sang onstage. And the second his eyes meet mine, I know he remembers it too.

“Thanks for rushing here last night with the weapons,” I tell him.

“Of course,” he says. “Literally the least I could’ve done.”

“Yeah.”

The awkwardness settles in immediately. Just like it always does. I don’t think it’s possible to truly be friends with an ex who broke your heart into a million pieces and walked away when you were at your lowest. It doesn’t matter that he apologized. It doesn’t matter that he’s since told me he regrets it. It doesn’t matter that years have passed and he’s still in love with me.

It’s impossible to look at him and not still see the coward who was too afraid to take the risk of being with the woman he loved. The woman who loved him genuinely and completely.

And lately, part of me is starting to feel sorry for him. He’ll never find somebody exactly like me again. And I don’t mean because of how I look or because I have powers. I mean someone who loved him with that much patience. That much understanding. Someone who gave him the benefit of the doubt over and over again. Someone who saw who he could become and stood back lovingly, waiting for him to realize he had it in him all along to step up and be the partner I needed.

It feels naive to assume that kind of love will find you twice.

And when you throw it away like garbage, maybe there’s some kind of karmic consequence in knowing you might never get it back.

But that was his decision.

And I hate that I’m standing here looking at him like he’s an unwanted dog at an animal shelter.