Verum (The Nocte Trilogy 2)

“Very well. You may go.”

She looks down at her desk, her attention already on something else.

I let myself out, and when I’m in the hall, I allow Finn to join me.

“She can’t be serious,” he rolls his eyes.

I slump against the wall. “I’m afraid she is. I don’t think she knows how to joke.”

“I’m not changing my name,” Finn tells me stoutly. “I’m a Price.”

“She’s not asking you to change it,” I reply diplomatically. “You’re dead. She’s asking me. But not to change it, only to hyphenate it.”

“Dad will have kittens,” Finn points out, and I know he’s right.

“Probably.”

He chews his lip.

“But maybe. We’ll think on it.”

Like always, he speaks of us as a unit. Because we are, even now, even though he’s dead.

“I need some things,” I tell him. “Toiletry items,” I add before he can ask. “Girl stuff. I think I’ll go into town and pick them up. Do you want to come?”

He shakes his head. “For girl stuff? Uh, no. I think I’ll just stay here and take an imaginary walk through the gardens.”

“Good idea. I should practice being alone.”

“You should,” he nods, and I once again ponder my ridiculousness. Am I so pathetic that I have to imagine a reality?

Apparently, I am.

I find Jones downstairs, and hesitantly, I approach the imposing man.

“Is there any way you could take me into town? I need to go to the store.”

“Of course, Miss Price,” he nods, immediately interrupting what he’s doing to tend to me. “I’ll bring the car around.”

I’m waiting out front when Dare comes out the door, breathtakingly sexy in a black outfit, black slacks and snug black shirt. He blows out of the house like a breeze, and stops next to me.

“Can I catch a ride with you?” he asks, eyeing me up and down, checking for weakness.

“Of course. But don’t you drive?” I ask dumbly, because he’s been driving himself somewhere every night. He cocks his head.

“Sometimes, I just wanna be lazy.”

“Understandable,” I nod. “You can by all means share my ride.”

He leans against the house.

“Is your room comfortable?” he asks knowingly, because he has to know that it is. The politeness between us hurts me, it cuts like a knife and I want to yank it away.

But I can’t.

The more distance between us, the safer I am.

I don’t know how I know it, I just do.