I look up and find her watching me with concern. “Huh? Oh, just school stuff. It’s fine.”
She frowns. “I know you’re stressed about graduating and getting a job right away, but you don’t need to be. You can move home and take as much time as you need. I don’t want you to rush into anything because you’re worried about money.”
“Mom.” We’ve had this conversation more than once. “I’m paying you and Dad back. End of story.” It’ll likely take most my adult life, but so would a high-interest student loan, so I consider myself extremely lucky I could avoid that.
She stands, walking around the kitchen counter and stopping in front of me. “This is your senior year,” she says. “You should enjoy it without worrying about all the things you’ll have years to worry about as an adult.”
I smile, setting my mug on the counter behind me and wrapping my arms around her in a tight hug. “I’m not a kid anymore, Mom. I understand the value of what you did to put me through school.” Because not only did they cover my tuition, my parents had to take time away from their teaching jobs when Elijah collapsed at school three years ago, which led to doctors finding a lump under his arm. After surgery and several rounds of treatment, he was cancer-free, but it took a toll on our parents—both emotionally and financially. The important thing is Elijah’s here and remains cancer-free, but Mom used to have a rule about not working on the weekend, and the state of our breakfast bar suggests she’s putting in overtime.
“And we’d do it again. In a heartbeat.” She squeezes me and kisses the side of my head before stepping away. “Now, tell me more about your internship.”
* * *
Dad grabs lunch on his way home—Chinese food from our favorite place across town—and we eat together in the dining room.
I sit there, enjoying a chicken ball drenched in sweet-and-sour sauce, and smile at my family. My thoughts trickle back to Tristan and the mess that I’m going back to at school. I didn’t get any answers from coming home as I’d hoped, and not being able to say anything about it makes it harder to bear. I doubt Tristan would take kindly to more humans knowing about the fae, not that I think my parents would believe me, even though my dad likely has fae ancestors. They’d blame it on stress and sign me up for therapy. Elijah would believe me, though. The kid has a killer imagination.
Looking at them now is making me want to stay. I wasn’t homesick much in the past, but I feel it now. The urge to stay is strong, but the growing need for answers is slowly overpowering it. I don’t want to think about it, but it’s looking more and more like there’s only one person I can go to for those answers.
“What time do you have to leave tomorrow?” Elijah asks between giant mouthfuls of fried rice.
“Early afternoon. I have some things I need to deal with before my week starts.” Like figuring out why the hell Max was looking for me.
“Your sister is going to be busy over the next couple of months,” Mom says with a warm smile, “and we’re very proud.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
Dad cleans up after lunch, and Elijah follows me to my room to hang out while I pack the few things I brought home with me. “I wish you didn’t have to leave,” he says, lying across the end of my bed on his stomach.
“I don’t want to go back, either.” I peek over at him and smile. “I’ll visit again as soon as I can.”
If I survive this week.
ChapterNine
Mondays suck. This morning specifically sucks more than usual. I got little sleep last night, and it isn’t because Tristan showed up—because he didn’t. Which is a relief, considering there’s a good chance I would’ve slapped his stupid, carved-perfectly-by-the-gods face for invading my dream again. Dealing with him when I’m awake is enough.
Every time I got close to falling asleep, I’d start thinking about this morning. Dread and nerves made it nearly impossible to relax enough to get any proper rest.
When my alarm goes off at six o’clock, I open my eyes and stare at the ceiling. Should I drop out of school? If there were any other way to get this credit to graduate, I would be all over it. Unfortunately,my mentor is an infuriatingly arrogant fae knightisn’t exactly a believable reason to be exempt.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I get up and move through the motions of showering and blow drying my hair before getting dressed. Then I spend too much time obsessing over an outfit, as if I’m making a first impression on Tristan. I guess I am, which only makes my muscles more twitchy. There’s also a pressure building in my temples that isn’t doing anything to ease the queasiness in my stomach.
I stand in front of my closet, chewing on my thumbnail. If I’m going based on what I’ve seen Tristan and Skylar wear, nothing in here is going to cut it. After several chaotic minutes of pulling shirts off hangers only to toss them in a pile on the floor, I settle on a navy blouse tucked into a knee-length black skirt and pair it with my nicest heels.
I’m finishing my makeup when our door opens, and Allison walks in, holding a tray with two cups of coffee and a brown pastry bag. “Morning,” she says, setting the tray on my desk. “I brought coffee and muffins. Today is a big deal for you, so I wanted to start it off right.”
Despite the nausea in my gut, I smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course I did.” She hands me a coffee. “I have class in…” She checks the time on her phone. “Five hours, anyway.” She presses her lips together against a smile.
I take a small sip, hoping my stomach won’t reject it. “I appreciate it.”
“Whatever I can do to make today a little less stressful for you.”
I wrap her in a one-armed hug and squeeze her shoulders. “This is why you’re my best friend.”
She places her hand over mine. “Are you ready?”