Page 58 of Ophelia's Vampire

“You can trust me, Cleo.”

The doubt doesn’t leave her eyes, but she nods. “I know I can, Lia. I just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“I am.”

I’m not sure if she believes me, and I’m not sure exactly where we stand as we say our goodbyes and hang up.

What Iamsure of is that I’m done messing this up.

I’m done messing around with Cas, wasting time, and getting any further into… whatever it is we did last night.

I’m here for a reason, and I’m not going to let Cleo down. I’m not going to letmyselfdown.

I can handle this. I’m strong enough. Just like always.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and climb into the driver’s seat, ready to put the rest of it behind me.

After a long day of being condescended to by a mechanic who took twice as long as he should have to fix the electrical issue on the van, and missing my usual guy—missing all of Seattle, really—I make it back to Cas’s place. I park in my temporary spot, plug in, and make sure everything is working how it’s supposed to be working.

It is, despite the unpleasant mechanic, and I should be happier about that.

I’ve got my place to stay back up and running, I’m not going to freeze my ass off out here tonight, and Cas will have no excuse to come kidnap me again and drag me inside.

All good things. All things to be happy about, given my conversation with Cleo.

Back in the van, I hover awkwardly in the middle of the living space.

If you can even call it that.

Spending the night in Cas’s giant house has absolutely spoiled me, because I can’t remember the last time the van felt this small.

I sit down on the padded bench seat that serves as a sofa, and I can barely stretch my legs out at all before my feet bump up against the counter on the opposite wall. I stand and have to crouch to keep my head from hitting the ceiling.

Irrationally, a sharp, frustrated lump raises in the back of my throat.

“Get a fucking grip,” I mutter.

Oh, sure, I get used to having access to a chef’s kitchen and spend one night in a huge, comfortable bedroom, and now what? I’m going to be a big baby about my own living situation?

I need to buck the fuck up.

I open my mini-fridge, only to find a single can of sparkling water, a few condiment packets pilfered from gas stations and fast-food joints on the drive I took across the country to get here, and not a whole hell of a lot else. My stomach takes the opportunity to rumble, reminding me I’ve been making most of my meals in Cas’s kitchen, and storing all my leftovers there as well.

Leaving to go get something to eat would be an option, but I’m feeling far too irritated and broody to want to go back out. That run this morning must have also kicked my ass more than I realized, because I’ve been run-down all day. I’m sluggish and tired and ready to crawl into a nest of blankets and pillows and put this whole mess of a day behind me.

But first, food. Absolutely food. Because even though I’m exhausted, I never sleep well on an empty stomach.

All the windows in the house are dark, and I don’t see Casimir’s car in the driveway, though that’s not a sure bet. It could be pulled into the three-car garage at the back of the property, and he could already be inside.

But when my stomach rumbles again, my choice is made.

In and out. No fancy meal tonight. No lingering.

I’ll get my food and go, and with any luck Cas will be home late and our paths won’t cross and we won’t have to deal with… any of it.

Getting back inside goes much more smoothly this time. No umbrella incidents, and as I tiptoe across the hall, I don’t hear any sounds from inside the house.

I poke my head into the kitchen, but it’s empty, too.

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