Page 40 of Twisted Gift

My heart stutters when my phone chimes from the bar top in front of me. I lean over to read the text from Allison, letting me know that she and the Westbrook Hotel crew are on their way over.

A minute later, another text from Allison comes through.

Tristan says breathe,it says.

Despite the pressure in my chest, I smile. We can do this.

Fifteen minutes before the meeting is scheduled to start, they walk in, one by one. I take in the faces of my friends, and even with the panic floating at the surface, I feel better. The people around me make me stronger. I need to remember that.

Allison wraps her arms around me in a tight embrace, resting her head on my shoulder. “I already hate this,” she says in a quiet voice.

“Me too,” I say, rubbing her back to try to comfort her as if she’s the one about to face a room full of agitated fae.

She pulls back, nodding. “Uh, is that going to be an issue?”

I follow Allison’s line of sight to where Nikolai and Skylar are standing near the bar, bickering about something. I could hear them if I wanted to, but by the expression on Skylar’s face, that’s a conversation I’m smart to keep out of. Nikolai, of course, still looks amused, even with Skylar’s sharp gaze and fast-moving mouth.

What is it with those two?

Allison pats my shoulder and walks across the room, leaving me alone to face Tristan as he approaches.

When I try to get a read on his emotions, I hit a wall. I lift my eyes to meet his, and he shakes his head as if he knows what I was trying to do. I don’t blame him for keeping them hidden tonight; I’m doing the same—we all are. We’ve all masked our faces into calm, smooth expressions. Bravados I’m hoping the fae will believe.

“Can we talk for a minute?”

“Yeah,” I say, and the two of us walk over to the office and step inside. I close the door and lean against it, keeping my gaze away from Tristan’s. Being this close to him, I need to keep my guard up—especially right now. I can’t allow myself to crave him more than I already do. My head and my heart are so back and forth when it comes to him, it’s beginning to give me emotional whiplash. Though I want to show him just how much I’ve missed him, a dark, sticky layer of guilt still clings to me.

“Aurora,” he murmurs, “look at me.”

I shake my head as my eyes water.

“Why not?” he pushes in a gentle tone.

“Because I can’t look at you,” a tear escapes and leaves a trail down my cheek, “without hating myself for what I did.”

“What you did?” he echoes. “What are you talking about, sweetheart?”

“Jules didn’t ruin us.” I shift my gaze to meet his. “I did.” Jules might’ve been the reason I met Tristan, but he wasn’t the reason I left him; he didn’t force my hand. I made the choice.

A look of what I can only describe as understanding and then devastation flickers across his face. “No, Rory.” He shakes his head firmly, his jaw set tight. “No, you didn’t ruin anything.”

“How can you say that?”

“Is that why you left? Why you wouldn’t let me help you?”

“I couldn’t . . . I was so confused after everything Jules dropped on me. I wasn’t sure about anything.”

“You were scared it wasn’t real,” he murmurs.

I nod.

“And how do you feel now?”

“Right now we have to focus on the big picture. Bringing our people together.”

“I need to know you haven’t given up on us, Rory.” His tone makes me think he doesn’t give a shit about the war right now, but that’s not true. He wants peace more than anyone.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Do you remember the day I told you I wanted us to try?”

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