Page 70 of Whispers of Wisteria
I glared at the floor as my eyes flooded with tears.
Darn it.
“What do you want to do?” Titus asked. “If you want to project your anger onto him instead of dealing with it, fine. I’ll grab him right now and do whatever you want. We could find a replacement for him in a heartbeat.”
“No.” Bryce, after all, was growing on me.
“Then what do you want?”
“I’ll talk to him,” I grumbled. I did understand he was trying to help, but we were going to have a serious discussion about boundaries.
Titus placed his hand over my head, and his voice was warm as he spoke. “Good.” He paused, then said, “I have something for you.”
“What?” I blinked at my feet. Was this going to be a recurring thing? I’d already lost the first gift he’d given me.
Though it didn’t feel wrong to accept stuff from him for some reason. Sometimes. But only when the moment struck.
He grabbed my right hand, holding my wrist lightly as he reached into his pocket. My breath caught as he pulled out a ring. I’d seen this pattern once before: twisted leaves and inlaid diamonds. He’d managed to save his mother’s hairpin.
“How?”
His brows furrowed, and he seemed confused by my question. “I grabbed it,” he said, sliding it onto my pointer finger.
I sniffled, not bothering to respond. Obviously, he’d grabbed it, but when? Everything from that time when the Cole family had kidnapped me was hazy and confusing. I didn’t remember him even going near the hearth.
But…
“Why are you giving this to me now?” I asked. We’d been back for weeks, and there wasn’t anything significant about today.
He let go of my hand, moving to my face instead, and brushed his thumb across my cheek. “Because,” he said, “you’ve just leveled up. Just like in that game you play when you’re feeling violent.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “I’m not violent.”
Titus ignored me. “And it’s something to remind you.”
“Remind me of what?”
Instead of replying, he walked around his desk, picked up his jacket and my purse, and grabbed my hand once more before leading me from the room.
Bryce wasin his bedroom when I got home. I wasn’t sure which was more offensive: the fact that he was hiding—since he obviously had only just been hanging out in the living room with Finn—or that it was Finn who had to point me in the right direction.
Finn shrugged as he said, “Yeah, I don’t know.” He lounged on the couch in his easy, cross-legged position and gestured towards a face-down book and a half-empty mug. “Bryce ran away the second he heard you coming.”
I groaned. This was further proof that Titus was right.
I spun around and almost ran into Titus’s chest.
“Sorry,” I apologized, ducking under his arm. “I need to take care ofsomething.”
It was impossible to miss Finn’s odd look or Titus’s solemn nod, but neither was significant. Instead, I crossed my arms,protecting myself from Damen’s drafty hallway, and went to Bryce’s room.
I barged in without knocking on the door.
“Bianca!” He was in the process of taking off his shirt and jumped, spinning to face the door, as he pulled down the olive fabric over his washboard abs. “What are you doing? You can’t just barge into a man’s room.”
But he wasn’t a man; he was my brother.
“We need to talk.” I pointed to the bed. “Sit.”
