Page 22 of Torn

“You can’t have them,” she says. “If that’s what you’re thinking.”

He glances at her with another involuntarily twitch of the lips. “I have my own pair, thank you.”

“Why did you come back?”

She wants a romantic answer, but she’s hardly a fool, no matter how besotted.

Anger stalks up to her, the rustle of his clothing louder than it should be. Once he’s in caressing distance, he wavers. “Why is your name Merry?”

She releases the skateboard, its wheels slapping on the path. She blinks, at a loss for how to reply.

“When we met, you referred to Malice by his proper name,” Anger continues.

“You know, we never did address the chase,” she replies. “I saw you on the rooftop. You were watching us.”

“I was watchingyou. I haven’t stopped since.”

“So earlier, in the arcade…you, um, you saw the…”

A chord of amusement strums through his answer. “It was a graceful landing.”

On a groan, Merry dumps her face into her palms and mumbles, “I hate my life.”

Something akin to a chuckle escapes him, but then he coughs. “That demon archer hasn’t changed his moniker just because he’s exiled. But you have, as if you’re concealing who you used to be.”

She realizes where this is coming from, where he’s been since he left, and why he’s asking. Merry lifts her head. “What else did Malice tell you?”

Chagrined, it’s Anger’s turn to blink. “More than I wanted to know. Yet not enough.”

“You’ve been with him since leaving me, which makes sense. You’re of parallel emotions, so it’s no wonder he sniffed you out. I gather you’ve found a new friend, then.”

“I’m not certain friendship exists anymore.”

“You’re wrong.”

He shoots her an offended look. “You don’t know me.”

“That’s because you don’t want anyone to know you.”

One would think that nobody has ever told him so before. He’s flabbergasted, the slot in his mouth parting, his brows punching together.

Merry hops onto the skateboard and circles him, entertained when he follows the movements, eyeing her cautiously. “You don’t want anyone to know you, but you still want to belong,” she summarizes, blithely circuiting his beautiful pout. “Sorry to break this to you, but you can’t have it both ways.”

“A deity can always have it both ways.”

“Only the saddest ones can.”

The current billows her skirt, and she notices that his footfalls have stopped. She pauses as well, because he’s staring with a vulnerable slant to his expression, a candid one that he’s unaware of. And there’s something else about his reflexes.

Merry gestures to his hands. “You drum your fingers on your belt buckle whenever you’re flummoxed.”

His digits seize. “Let me guess. It’s annoying?”

“No, it’s honest. It’s you.”

Anger swerves his head, hiding his reaction. He thrusts his profile at her while focusing on the track lighting, the swaying grass, and the carousel. Is that why he came back? Because he’s not sure where he belongs but wants to find out?

If her true love chooses to stick around, they might have a greater future than he knows.

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