Page 42 of Ashes and Lilies
“I was brutally slain on your behalf!” Mr. Weaver exclaimed. “Not that I care too much, but some vengeance would be the very least you could do.”
“You were poisoned,” Dr. Stephens said, tapping his pointer finger on the table. “Not slain.”
Meanwhile, my stomach twisted in guilt. He was right. I clenched my hands to my chest as a sense of duty and obligation filled me.
“Okay,” I told the ghost with a nod. “I will avenge you.”
“You don’t need to avenge him,” Dr. Stephens said drolly. “He should have just taken mine and Bryce’s advice. So it’s his own fault.”
I had no idea what that meant, but it made me sad that I was the only person who seemed upset about this man’s death.
“And I will assist you,” Mr. Weaver said, studying me. “I’ve been looking into your other inquiry.” His gaze flickered to Dr. Stephens with a narrowed-eyed glare, who only raised a brow in response. “I’ll let you know when I know more.”
“What inquiry?” Dr. Stephens pursed his lips. “Why are you suddenly so generous with your effort and expertise?”
Mr. Weaver did not answer him.
The waitress chose that moment to return. “Are you ready to order?” she asked, raising the black notepad and readying her pen. Mr. Weaver took the opportunity to run away while Damen and Dr. Stephens looked at me, and instantly, my thoughts froze.
I’d been so focused on the conversation that I hadn’t focused on the options—or maybe a subconscious part of me didn’t believe that Damen would feed me this time.
I hadn’t decided yet!
But I couldn’t hold everyone up. “I don’t know…” I grabbed the menu once more and attempted to speed-read through the list. What had looked good last time?
I pulled the menu over my mouth and looked at Damen. “Pick something,” I muttered. He knew this place, and he wouldn’t steer me wrong.
“I don’t know.” Damen studied me. “The fish is rather good.”
I wrinkled my nose.
“You’ve always liked fish before…” His voice trailed off. “But the chicken here is excellent as well.” I just watched him, my heart pounding as the waitress eyed us expectantly. Damen turned his attention toward her. “She’ll have the chicken.”
I relaxed as Damen ordered his food, but then my attention flicked to Dr. Stephens, who was giving me the most peculiar look. After our eyes met, he glanced at Damen curiously.
But then the waitress turned to him, and the strange moment had passed. The older man’s severe expression shifted, and—without even looking at the menu once—he placed his order.
9
Dr. Stephens rodewith Damen and me after dinner, and while the others conversed in the front seats, my mind drifted to another place. They were speaking too low and quickly for me to understand them, and it was easy to pretend not to care while I poked around on my phone.
Unknown Number
I still need to talk to you.
It was a message from a contact not listed in my very limited address book, but I knew who it was instantly.
How the heck did he find me?
Me
Go away.
I glared at my phone as I hit send. The nerve of this boy. Now he was all up defiling my Finn-free products.
Still, I shouldn’t block him. What if therewas an emergency?
I pursed my lips and added him to my contacts, and now his name read Private Enemy Number One, as it should.
