Page 55 of Awry
Even with all that understanding of what those years of my life must have looked like, must have been like, I don’t actually remember this town, the diner, or Tasmin.
Grinder’s hand settles on my shoulder.“Zaya?”
I have a feeling he’s been standing beside the table for a while, waiting for me to acknowledge him or answer a question I haven’t heard.“I’m fine.”
“Clearly not,” he murmurs.“I doubt anyone would expect you to be, either.”
I don’t bother answering that.No one ever expects things of me.I either had no one who cared enough to do so, or the few who might have cared that much if I’d been … if I’d had a different destiny … held me at a distance.Because I wasn’t just Zaya to them.I was always, eventually, going to be the Conduit.
My aunt hadknownthe moment she laid eyes on me cradled in my mother’s arms.My mother told me the same story for the first nine years of my life, and my aunt recounted her version of the events for the next twenty.
After my mother died, Aunt Disa and I always spent our birthdays together.I had seen Disa two months ago in Seattle, to celebrate her two-hundred-and-forty-seventh birthday.
She would now miss my thirtieth.
We were both too young — for her to move into theAfterand for me toBecome.
Grinder settles into the seat across from me, reaching across the table and nestling my limp hand in between both of his.He doesn’t question me.He just sets his gaze on me and holds me in the moment.
I could cry.I’m so tired and overwhelmed.“I’d like to meet Pinky,” I say instead.Because not only is being in the present my specialty, it is now my only choice.
He smiles, not questioning how I know that the mage is important to him, rather than just a casual relationship.So neither do I.“Yes.The moment you’re ready.”Then he nods toward me encouragingly.“Presh would love it if you answered her texts.”
Yeah, I’m ignoring my messages.Continuing to ignore them.Because I usually don’t stick around much after aknowingleads to my death.I withdraw my hand from Grinder’s slowly.He watches me settle it back on my lap.I don’t reach for my phone.
“I have to set out.Got some … follow-up to do.”Grinder grimaces unhappily.“But Cayley is going to make sure you get back to the motel.”
“I’m not going back,” I say, holding his gaze steadily so he can see my resolve even through my certain-to-be obvious exhaustion.
He nods like this isn’t news to him, but doesn’t offer an opinion.
Under the weight of his gaze, I cave and pull my phone out of my pocket.Three text messages are waiting for me.Two of them are from Presh.One from Rath.But … I’m not quite ready to move forward yet, to keep moving.So I place the phone face down on the table.Just for another totally indulgent moment.Wallowing in whatever this is … grief?Being overwhelmed?Some sort of anxiety?
I’m on the verge of something, perhaps a majorknowing— one forced upon me, rather than stirred up by my intent, like with rescuing Presh.And for the first time in my life, I don’t want to be hovering on that precipice.The thrill … the high … doesn’t seem worth the fall.
I’ll snap out of it.
I am both constantly changeable yet never changing.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?”Grinder asks gently, ducking his head reverently.He’s huge, filling the opposite side of the booth, but he treats me like … like he understands the divine power that runs through my veins.
“It’s passed,” I say, meaning the reason, theknowing, that had me tell him to hide his bike and take off his cut.
“I thought so.Unfortunately, I still have to deal with it.”
I nod.He means the bikers we saw on the road, heading toward the motel.But that, happily, is none of my business.
He sets his phone on the table, fingers pressed to the edge nearest him.“Will you let me check in on you as well?”
I nod, and he slides his phone across the table, screen unlocked and a contact form already open with my name and nothing else filled in.I type in my phone number.“I doubt you need the address,” I say wryly.
He grins.“I’ll probably need a new invitation, though.”
Yeah.The property will be keyed only to me now … though I’m suddenly not sure about that.I might have to claim it … somehow.
Grinder’s smile falters, maybe even as mine does.Then he closes his eyes for a moment, as if navigating the same cresting wave of grief I’m riding.
I press his phone into his loose grip and touch the back of his hand lightly.I don’t have the words for any sort of whisper of luck or longevity blessing, so I just let my latent essence skim across his skin.And hope that’s enough of a thank you for his kindness and comfort.
