Page 67 of First Verse

I eventually take a bite of the pasta—itisfucking good—and decide then and there that I’m learning to cook. Someday, Evangeline will make those sounds formyfood.

The faint fragrance of her shampoo envelops me as she leans over to murmur in my ear, “What’s wrong?”

I’m a possessive, jealous fuck.

“Nothing,” I whisper back, turning fast to catch her soft lips with mine. She jerks back, her already rosy cheeks darkening further as she faces her plate and scoops up more pasta.

Her embarrassment, her rejection, spreads ice through my chest. The crawling sensation under my skin worsens.

I grab my water glass and drain it, wishing it were alcohol.

“So, Eva,” Jax says, his gaze flickering between us. “When are you and Lily heading into the studio?”

Evangeline answers haltingly at first but warms up as Jax guides the conversation into other topics. Eddie and Zander eventually join in, and the four of them chat easily as they eat. Evangeline is animated as she only is when she feels comfortable; there isn’t even any awkwardness with Zander, the two of them spending a solid five minutes geeking out over some new keyboard that just hit the market.

No one tries to involve me. The part of me that’s still rational knows they’re not being rude. They simply know me. I’m not chatty, don’t like being forced into conversations, and will only contribute if I feel like it. It should be a relief, but instead it stings in a way it never has before.

They know I’m not like them.

Notnormal.

No wonder Evangeline was embarrassed when I kissed her in front of them.

The toxicity of my thoughts reaches dangerous levels, numbing the tips of my fingers and sending a snaking, burning sensation down my spine. Their voices become jarring. Dissonant.

I have to get out of here.

Grabbing my barely touched dinner, I stand fast and ignore the sudden silence as I collect their empty plates.

Evangeline scoots back her chair, but I shake my head, not looking at her. Afraid she’ll see the monster in my eyes.

“I’ve got it.”

As I walk into the kitchen, Eddie says something that makes Evangeline laugh softly, and I almost,almost,chuck the plates into the sink. Instead, I set them down gently, then grip the edge of the sink as hard as I can.

I can’t fucking breathe.

Footsteps snap my head to the side. Jax turns the corner, the big salad bowl in his hands. He stops when he sees me, his expression twisting with concern.

“Take a minute,” he says in a low voice. “I’ll tell her you got a phone call or something.”

My throat too tight to speak, I jerk my head in a nod. It takes a few seconds to convince my fingers to release the sink, then I flee into the back hallway. I ascend the stairs two at a time, but it still takes forever to reach the top.

A high-pitched whine fills my ears. I run the rest of the way to my bedroom. Inside, I shove the door closed right as my knees buckle.

I hit the floor hard and swing forward, my forehead smacking wood, my hands clenched in my hair.

Make it stop. Make it stop.

The Shadow’s spikes close around me, sinking fast and deep. Before I’m fully aware of moving, I’m off the floor and stumbling into the bathroom. I rip open the cabinet beneath the sink and crouch to grab a plastic container full of first aid that my mom stuck in all the bathrooms when we moved in.

A strangled gasp escapes as I tear off the lid and dump the contents on the tile. My vision sparkling at the edges, I sift through the mess until I see it: a box of gauze. As I pick it up, something small and hard rattles in the bottom.

The instant relief I feel has me biting my cheek against a sob.

No, no, no.

Just one.

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