I squeezed her shoulder and pulled her in for a hug. She let out a long breath like she’d been holding it this whole time. I released her and nodded to myself.
“Let’s go back, okay? I want to be friends. Heck, it’ll be nice to have a friend that isn’t either in my family or working for my family.”
“Oh my god, right? I didn’t even know how to make friends coming here. I joined an anime club just to meet people. I don’t even like anime.”
“How’d that work out?”
“Really nice people, but they kept putting on animal costumes and dancing around, and I’m not super into dress-up.”
“Uh, are you sure you didn’t join a furry club?”
She frowned. “What’s a furry?”
“Oh, Sarah. You’re even more sheltered than I realized.” And so I explained to her what a furry was, including all the beautiful and bizarre details, such as yiffing. Thanks to my extremely-sheltered life, I had a lot of time to research weird stuff on the internet. She laughed, and we made some jokes, although I think secretly we both envied the furries—they were fun, uninhibited, and found a hobby and peer group they could be passionate about.
As we reached the dorms, I slowed down. A figure stood under the lights, pacing back and forth. Her hair was a mess, and her clothes were rumpled, but it was definitely Laurel. She was looking around like a bird search for prey.
“That’s my cousin,” I said, staring at her.
Sarah looked around. “What’s she doing here?”
“I don’t know. But she looks upset, doesn’t she?”
Palmira approached quickly. “Laurel,” she said.
“I know.” I nodded toward my cousin. “I’m going to talk to her.”
“I’d like to advise against that.”
“Noted.” I stalked forward as Palmira and Sarah waited behind.
Laurel looked over and relief flooded her face. So she’d been waiting for me—I guess there wasn’t anyone else she’d know here. She approached fast, hands flying in the air like small, scared mice, fingers waggling.
“There you are. I asked like ten people if you were in your dorm, and I wasn’t allowed inside, and I tried to sneak in the back but this guy told me to fuck off, and I’ve been standing out here hoping you’d show up. Why the hell is everyone so rude?”
“Laurel, take a breath. What’s going on?”
She stared at me, mouth twitching.
“Dad’s missing,” she said. “I’m afraid he’s dead.”
Chapter 19
Nervosa
I leaned over the railing overlooking the bay and breathed the salty air deep into my lungs. I slowly let it out and wondered if I’d fucked things up with Melanie beyond repair.
I wanted to sleep with her. It took me by surprise, how badly I needed it—and when she’d guided me up to her room, I couldn’t stop my hunger, not even when she admitted to being a virgin. Some voice in my head said it was a bad idea to fuck her—that it would complicate things.
I didn’t care. I couldn’t help it. I needed her, worse than I could imagine.
And now I kept thinking about her lips, her body, her legs wrapped around mine. Her hot breath on my neck, her moans.
I’d never felt like this for a woman before in my life.
I never let myself. I didn’t have space or time for attachments. My father used to tell me I needed to lighten up, that I was the king of the world, at the top of my game, and I could afford to let some people inside.
I’d always smile and tell him sure, of course, I’ll try.
But I never could. I learned very young what people could do.
When my father died suddenly one cold winter night, all the distrust flooded back. He was one of the few people that actually cared about me, and yet the world had taken him away. Heart attack much too young. Genetic, apparently. Dead at only sixty-three.
I was so angry. I raged and raged and raged. I hurt myself and hurt others in my grief. And then, when the storm was finished and I found myself washed ashore, bleeding and broken, but whole, I took control of the house and the family. I became Nervosa. I slaughtered my enemies, flayed those that went against me, and killed my way to strength.
I earned my reputation.
And my father would’ve hated it.
He wasn’t weak. He was incredibly strong, but he saw the best in people. That was why he took me off the street and made me his son. He saw a smart, lost boy in a bad situation, and thought he could make something special out of me.
He was right, he was so right—but he was too late.
I was already broken.
And when he died, any humanity he’d managed to instill inside my rotten heart died with him.
Until I saw Melanie.
And something blossomed. A seedling. A sapling. Nothing more than a tiny plant of an emotion, taking root.