Page 59 of Bride By Initiation

"Maybe we should sneak out in a bit," she suggests.

"Please," I say.

She grins. "There's that new club in town. We should go check it out."

"Sounds good," I say, just as Sean walks in.

Our gazes collide, and he scowls, burning me with his disdain from across the room.

My stomach flips. He won't talk to me. He's sworn me off, and any attempt I've made to get back into his good graces has failed. Whenever I try, he reminds me we're no longer friends unless I tell him what I know. I refuse and then he tells me to stop talking to him.

He claims I'm a hypocrite since I want answers about my father.

He's right. I am a hypocrite, and hate myself for it. Yet I won't disobey John's orders. I can't jeopardize whatever is in front of me. The promise that The Underworld holds all the answers I want, is the answer to my lifelong questions.

"Sean's here. Let's see if he wants to come with us," Fiona says.

It's a welcome excuse to talk to him. We make our way through the crowd, getting into several small conversations. When we finally get to him, he's with Brax and L.J.

Fiona questions, "You guys want to go to the new club tonight?"

Sean glances over at me, then replies, "No."

"Why not? We haven't been there yet," Brax questions.

Sean asserts, "It'll be boring."

"Says who? That place is hopping," L.J. interjects.

Sean turns his head and locks eyes with him. "Who asked you?"

"Why are you being such a dick?" L.J. asks.

"No reason," Sean says and then walks away.

"Excuse me," Brax says, then follows him.

My insides shake. I don't know how to get us back to how we were. I'd do anything except tell him what he wants to know because I can't.

"What the fuck's up his ass?" L.J. questions.

"Language," Fiona scolds.

L.J. grunts. "Whatever. But seriously, what's his deal?"

She shrugs. "Why should I know? I'm not his keeper."

L.J. states, "He's your brother."

"Like I said, I don't claim responsibility for him," Fiona declares.

"I have to go to the restroom," I lie, and force my way out of the conversation.

The room is suddenly too hot. The air in my lungs has become stale. There are too many people here who I'm currently at odds with. Normally, every person in this room is my family or good friend. Tonight, I don't feel the love. My insides buzz with anxiety and anger.

I push through the crowd, down the hall, and into the bathroom. I put the lid down and sit on the toilet, hiding. I rest my elbows on my knees, my hands over my face, and close my eyes, reprimanding myself for coming. I should have known better. I should have said I was sick, and sent the twins' gifts to them. I could have taken them out to dinner on a different night.

My phone blares a French song my mom's dad used to play all the time. Growing up, I was close to my grandparents. In some ways, they helped my mom raise me. When my grandfather died, I added the song as my text alert.

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