Page 24 of The Ring Thief
CHAPTER 11
Lily
“You’re wallowing.”
“I’m not.”
Sasha looks critically at my scraggly, unwashed hair, the oversized hoodie and stained sweats. All the same clothes she saw me wearing yesterday.
I frown when she meets my stare, her expression saying more than words ever could. “I don’t wallow.”
Her brows lift disbelievingly as she glances at the tub of ice cream clutched in my hands and the empty pack, or three, of crisps littering the surface of the coffee table. “What do you call this, then?”
“I’m eating my feelings,” I grumble. “Leave me alone.” It’s her turn to frown as she clears a space on the coffee table, planting her ass right in front of me. “Do you mind? I’m watching this.”
She looks at the screen behind her. “Terminator?”
“Three,” I confirm, shoveling another spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream into my mouth.
“That’s a choice, I guess.” She turns back to me, eyes widening. “Wait—” she leans forward and pinches the sleeve of my hoody, tugging on it. “I didn’t look too closely yesterday, just in case you turned me to stone. But tell me that’s not…”
I curl backwards, yanking out of her grip, my voice defensive. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lily Foster, tell me that isn’t Voldemort’s hoodie.”
“The whole point is not saying his name,” I reason.
She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t. I said He Who Shall Not Be Named’s name.”
I scrunch my face up into a confused frown. “That’s just confusing. Look, it’s getting to the good bit.” I point my spoon at the TV over her shoulder. “Could you?—”
“Leave you to wallow in your ex’s clothing? No, I won’t.” She huffs impatiently. “Lily, it’s been a week, and you’re allowed to feel whatever it is you’re feeling, but life doesn’t just pause because you’re hurting.” She gentles her tone, her eyes softening. “Your dad’s been blowing up my phone.”
“Has he?” I murmur. I’d blockedVoldemort’snumber after his hundredth or so call, but I’d also started receiving lots of fun new messages from Silvia. One day, it was just a picture of her and Declan sitting close to each other on a sofa, her hand on his knee. The day after, it was a selfie of her in his office, eating lunch. Declan had been in the background behind her, working at his desk. But she hadn’t limited herself to sending just pictures.
Silvia: Don’t worry, Lily. I’m here to take care of him now.
Silvia: You did the right thing by walking away. He was never meant to be yours.
So, I’d kept the messages as evidence of… I don’t know. It seemed smart at the time. But then I’d blocked her as well and turned my phone off, and that had been three days ago.
“I sent Dad a message telling him I was okay.”
“And, clearly, he knows you’re not.” She moves, sitting next to me on the couch. She turns the TV off despite my protests, tugs the ice cream out of my hands and sets it on the coffee table. When she’s sure she has my full focus, she says, “I know you’re hurting, babe. I can’t evenimagine the kind of pain you’re in right now, but you can’t keep going on like this.”
“I don’t see why not,” I argue petulantly, but she acts like I said nothing, talking right over me.
“You’ve apparently started boycotting my perfectly good shower?—”
“The pressure could be better,” I mumble.
“—and your dad is losing his mind. I don’t want you to think I’m exaggerating here, Lily. I’m pretty sure he’s about to hire a team of mercenaries to kidnap you and get you to talk.” She gives me a pointed look. “By any means necessary.”
“My dad wouldn’t torture me,” I argue, but then think about it. “Maybe emotionally, but only a little.” Nothing was worse than a parental guilt trip.
Sasha’s expression doesn’t change, her eyes taking on an almost dangerous glint, and I throw my hands up. “Fine! I’ll go see him.” That glint fades into smugness and I point a finger in her face. “I still wasn’t wallowing.”
She quirks one brow up. “Hope you shower before you go,” she says, and then gives an exaggerated sniff and cringes.
