I shoot him a look making it clear I’m over the Damen jokes, until I see that he’s serious.
“Sorry.” He shrugs. “But it’s pretty clear he’s not into it.”
I shrug, neither confirming nor denying. There’s no way I’m discussing Damen with him. Heading for the back room and settling in at the desk, just about to unlock the drawer with my mind when I see that he’s followed.
“Oh, um, I forgot that it’s locked,” I mumble, feeling false and ridiculous as I motion toward the drawer, knowing I’m the worst actress ever but still going through the motions.
He leans in the doorway, shooting me a look that makes it clear he’s not buying it. “Didn’t seem to stop you the last time,” he says, voice low and deep. “Or even the first time I found you in the store.”
I swallow hard, unsure what to say. Admitting my abilities is breaking Damen’s most cardinal rule. The weight of Jude’s gaze heavy on mine as I say, “I can’t—I—”
He lifts a brow, knowing I very well can.
“I can’t do it in front of you,” I finish, knowing it’s foolish to keep up this ruse.
“Does this help?” He places a hand over each eye and grins.
I gaze at him for a moment, hoping he won’t peek through his fingers, then I take a deep breath and close my eyes too, seeing the lock spring open, before retrieving the book. Placing it on the desk as he takes a seat, head cocked to the side, foot balanced on his knee when he says, “You know, you’re pretty special, Ever.”
I freeze, fingers hovering above the ancient tome, heart beating overtime.
“I mean, your gift is special.” He looks at me, eyes squinting, shoulders lifting, the color on his cheeks deepening as he adds, “I’ve never met anyone with abilities like yours. The way you absorb information from a book, a person—and yet—”
I gaze at him, throat tight and hot, sensing the beginnings of something I’d rather avoid.
“And yet—you’ve no idea of who stands beside you. Right beside you, in fact.”
I sigh, wondering if this is the moment when he thrusts a pamphlet at me and goes into full-blown testimony mode, but he just motions to my right, smiling and nodding as though someone’s right there. But when I turn to look, all I get is blank space.
“At first I thought for sure you’d arrived in this store to teach me.” He smiles, reading my expression when he adds, “You do know there’s no such thing as coincidence—the universe is far too precise for random events. You came here for a reason, whether you realize it or not, and—”
“I was led here by Ava,” I say, uncomfortable with where this is going and wanting it to stop. “And I returned to see Lina not you.”
But he just nods, completely unfazed. “And yet, you returned at a time when Lina wasn’t here, making it possible for you to find me.”
I shift in my seat and focus on the book since I can’t look at him. Not after what he just said. Not after my trip to Amsterdam with Damen.
“Ever hear the phrase when the student is ready the teacher appears?”
I shrug, glancing at him briefly before looking down again.
“We meet the people we’re supposed to when the time is just right. And even though I’m sure I have plenty to learn from you, I’d really like to teach you something if you’ll let me—if you’re open to learning.”
I can feel his gaze, heavy and intense, and knowing my options are few, I just shrug. Seeing him nod and look to my right, tilting his head as though someone’s there.
“There’s someone who wants to say hello,” he says, gaze fixed on that spot. “Though she warns me you’re skeptical so I’ll have to work extra hard to convince you.”
I stare at him, neither blinking nor breathing. Thinking that if this is a joke—if he’s tricking me in some way—then I’ll—
“Does the name Riley mean anything to you?”
I swallow hard, unable to speak. My mind speeding backward, searching every conversation we’ve ever had, looking for the moment when I might have revealed that.
He looks at me, patient, waiting. But I just nod, unwilling to offer anything more.
“She says she’s your sister—your younger sister.” Giving me no time to reply when he adds, “Oh, and she’
s brought someone with her—or rather—” He smiles, pushing his dreads off his face as though to see better. “Or rather something—it’s a dog—a yellow—”