Page 110 of Ophelia's Vampire

“Yeah, I mean…”

I trail off, and another memory tugs at the edge of my mind.

Have you ever considered thatyouare extraordinary, in all your wonderful humanity?

It’s followed quickly by others—the way Cas has always looked at me, the trust I’ve seen and felt from him as we’ve tackled this case together—but while they’re more proof, they’re not the whole story, not really.

Maybe the last few weeks have knocked a few things loose, or maybe the last seven years I’ve spent striving have finally caught up to me, but that sore spot doesn’t feel so sore any more. When I try to reach for the same old sense of inadequacy, of needing to continuously be better, stronger, faster, it seems to be just out of reach.

I’m sure it’s not gone forever.

There’s always going to be some part of me that can’t help testing limits, pressing buttons, seeing how far I can push, but maybe that doesn’t have to apply to my family and the way I see my place within it.

But my mind’s still too tangled to make sense of it all, and it’s sure as hell going to take more than one conversation with my sister for all the dust to settle.

“Maybe it would be better if we talked about this in person,” I say with a small, tired laugh. “But I’m okay, Cleo. Really. I love you, and mom, and dad, and nothing is ever going to change that.”

“Alright,” Cleo says, though she still doesn’t sound entirely convinced. “And I’m sorry, Ophelia. If I had anything to do with making you feel that way, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s talk more when I get back to Seattle?”

“Sure, we can do that. And when is that going to be?”

There’s another, unspoken question in her words, one no doubt inspired by the last time we talked, when she saw Cas’s mark on my throat. As a properly annoying big sister, I know she probably didn’t believe my half-assed explanation for it. But now, like then, she doesn’t press me on it.

“I’m not sure yet.”

With a few last goodbyes and promises to talk soon, we hang up, and I sprawl back onto Casimir’s bed.

I close my eyes and let my racing thoughts unravel. If I were lucky, I might have dozed back off, but all I manage to do is spend the next hour tying myself in knots and straining my ears for a car door in the driveway, footsteps on the stairs.

But it stays painfully silent, and when it’s clear I’ve got no hope of falling back to sleep, I crawl out of bed.

Wandering out of the bedroom and down to the first floor. I debate stopping in the kitchen before deciding my stomach is way too unsettled with worry to want to put anything in it.

Instead, I find myself out in the driveway, opening the side door of my van.

Depending on how the conversation with Cas goes when he gets back, I suppose I might have to get used to staying here again soon.

It wouldn’t be cowardice this time, leaving Boston. It would be me protecting myself and my tender, fragile, extraordinarilyhumanheart.

Because no matter how scrambled my brain might be this morning, one thing is all too clear.

I want more with Cas.

Whethermoremeans staying here in Boston and deciding to be exclusive, or maybe even entertaining the idea of a bloodbond one day, I don’t know. But I do know that if he’s not interested in anything more, I can’t stay.

I won’t beg him for it, and I’ll respect any decision he makes, but the thought of being here in this city and not being his is intolerable.

I love him too much for that.

The realization nearly knocks the wind out of me.

But there’s nothing I can do about it until I talk to him, and with no idea when that will be, I climb up into the van.

Stepping inside, something immediately feels… off.

Like I’m a damn hermit crab who’s outgrown my shell, the whole space feels small. Too small. The walls are too close and the sight of the tiny kitchenette brings a hot, unexpected prickle of tears to the backs of my eyes.

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