Page 36 of Twisted Devotion

I have to drive around downtown Rockdale for fifteen minutes before I find an open parking spot, making me late to meet Allison.

She waves off my apology and hugs me. “I’m just glad you came. I’m sure you could use a few hours away from the house anyway.”

“You have no idea,” I say, walking beside her toward the café. Before the Hawthorne assignment, we frequented a different coffee place closer to the Westbrook, but Allison sent me this address, wanting to check it out.

The large front window is decorated with small, twinkling lights which have been hung inside, and there’s a bell above the door that chimes when we walk in. The space is cozy, with wood floors and soft gray walls. Small tables are placed around the room with a handful of people sipping coffee and chatting softly, and there’s a long table at the far end of the counter that looks perfect for patrons with laptops to work at. My eyes flit around the room, taking it in before turning toward the counter, and to the barista behind it.

Without warning, I stop dead in my tracks, and Allison bumps into me, quickly following my line of sight to the shaggy-haired guy behind the counter.

“Who is that?” Her voice is a mix of curiosity and concern.

I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry. “That’s Kyle.”

She nods. “And Kyle is . . . ?”

I force my eyes away from my old foster brother and meet Allison’s gaze. “We lived in the same home for a while. The, uh, last home before I became fae.” I’d told her the story of the end of my human life one night after several glasses of wine.

Recognition flares to life on her face. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I doubt he remembers me.”

“Kelsey?” he asks.

Or maybe he does.

I look away from Allison and force a smile. “Hey, Kyle,” I say as I approach the counter. “How are you?”

“Surprised to see you,” he says with a grin, setting down the dishtowel in his hand. “You look great.”

My cheeks flush, and I force a laugh. “Thanks. You too.” And he does. I haven’t seen the guy in over five years, and time has been kind to him. He shot up like a tree and really filled out. He looks like a giant teddy bear.

He walks closer to the end of the counter where Allison and I are standing. “What are you up to these days? You’re not online.”

I nod. “Social media isn’t really my thing.” I wrack my brain for a normal-sounding way to explain my current job situation. “I’m working as security for a private company.”

“Damn.” He whistles and then, “That’s impressive.”

“It’s interesting, that’s for sure.”Interestingis one of many, though far less colorful words I could use to describe my life with Jackson.

His grin widens. “I bet.”

Allison clears her throat, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Kyle,” I say, “this is Allison. She’s a friend from . . . work.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kyle says, sticking his hand out toward her.

She shakes it, smiling brightly, and shuffles out of the way of an incoming customer. “You too. So, you lived with Kelsey back in the day?”

He pulls his hand back, shifting his gaze between us. “That’s right. Kelsey aged out of the system before I did, so we lost touch.”

That’s what he believes.

The day after Tristan saved my life, he made sure Kyle was relocated to a reputable home in the area. I was close enough to aging out of the system that he took me in until I could get on my feet.

I wet my lips. “It’s good to see you, Kyle. How is everything?”

He gestures around where he’s standing. “You know, living the dream.” He laughs. “I’m in grad school, so whenever I’m not studying, I’m here. Because that shit is expensive.”

“Right. Of course,” I say.

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