Page 89 of Hexed
It’s because of Aria I’m still around, and she loves me.
She isn’t complicated.
She’s no mess.
With her, things can stay exactly as they are, and I won’t have to ruffle feathers. I won’t have to make a judgment call about my own flesh and blood that makes nausea burn my throat.
“You should try to mend things with your cousin while you’re here,” I say.
She sighs and drops back from me, pursing her lips.
“Ask her to be a bridesmaid or whatever. Extend the olive branch.”
“A bridesmaid?” She makes a displeased face, her eyes searching mine. “That would make you happy?”
I swallow becauseno, it wouldn’t. And I know it won’t make Venesa happy either, but a boundary needs to be set, and I need to remember who the fuck I am. I don’t have the luxury of going after things I want, not unless I either want to upend an entire empire with it or wind up dead, and no matter what Venesa makes me feel, I can’t act on impulses. Not like this.
“Yeah, that would make me happy,” I fib.
The words taste like bile on my tongue, but now that they’re out there, I can’t take them back.
I don’t want to take them back, I try to convince myself.
But even thinking it, I know it’s a lie.
TWENTY-ONE
VENESA
Nothinggood ever happens on birthdays.
It was my birthday when Momma would take me to the boardwalk and love bomb me, and it was my birthday when my dad beat her to death while I hid in a cupboard beneath the kitchen sink.
That’s a truth I keep buried deep inside me, where I’ve torn it up into tiny little pieces and hidden it away. In fact, there’s only one person on the entire planet whoknowseven part of that truth, and his fiancée is standing at the entrance to the Lair.
“Don’t look so surprised to see me,” Aria states.
“Well, don’t just lurk in doorways,” I reply. “It’s creepy.”
She walks in, running her finger along one of the saltwater tanks that line the entrance and then bends her knees until she can stare at the fish inside.
Iamsurprised to see her. It’s not even noon on a Sunday morning, and the Lair is closed today.
Aria looks around, her bright red hair bouncing perfectly like she’s a cartoon brought to life. “It’s so dreary in here, Urch.”
“Thanks for the notes. What do you want, Aria?”
She shrugs, the latest designer bag dangling from her arm. A hit of envy swirls deep in my gut because I’ve been on the waiting list for that bag for over a year, and even if I came off it, I’m not sure I have enough saved up to justify the cost. ButGod, it’s gorgeous.
Aria slips it off her shoulder as she walks farther into the room and slings it onto the bar top like it’s a crumpled-up napkin, not a three-thousand-dollar piece of art.
“I got curious,” she says simply, perching herself on the barstool and crossing one of her long skinny legs over the other. “And I was bored.”
A yawn escapes me, and I cover my mouth while walking behind the bar and starting the coffee machine that’s nestled in the corner. “You want something to drink? Coffee?” I ask.
She taps her nails on the bar top and nods. “Of course I do. I don’t suppose you have anything better than processed sludge?”
“Afraid not.”
