Chapter 9

9

SLOAN

" H ow was therapy today? Anna Leigh make you take an ice cream scoop to your insides?"

Kennedy's question teases me out of my quiet rumination I'd found myself frequently more and more recently. Okay, my therapist says I need to stop lying to myself as much. I've found myself stuck thinking about Bones and that devil of a kiss three weeks ago. A kiss that had my soul bursting into flames and me more than eager to climb into the man's lap.

Except instead of pulling me into his lap and taking what I was very willingly offering, Bones pushed me away. He leapt from the copter and stormed to his bike before riding away. He's avoided me whenever he can since and the few times he couldn't, he always had another Knight of Hades demon with him.

He must be really freaking happy I officially moved in with Sydney a week ago. A well of sadness at his clear rejection threatens to drag me down. I refuse to let it. I hold fiercely to my anger at his cowardliness. If Bones doesn't want to explore this clear chemistry between us, then that's his decision.

Even if I can understand it. I wouldn't want to get involved with me either. Not when I'm just learning how broken I am.

Sydney snorts at Kennedy's question as she carries three empty wine glasses, stems threaded between the fingers of one hand, and a bottle of white wine in the other and joins us in her living area.

Her apartment above The Styx bar is nothing like I'd expected when Sydney first told me about it. Kennedy sheepishly told me about how, a few days before the Justiciars attacked the Knights on behalf of the Santi Pastori mafia family, the same mafia had hired guns to take out Kennedy. They'd used automatic rifles and shot up the loft apartment, destroying most of the windows and furniture in the main area and the guest room where Kennedy had been staying.

I consider Kennedy's question, murmuring a thank you to Sydney when she hands me a freshly poured glass of wine. I'm still careful to take it really slow with alcohol given my lack of experience with it. The ladies have been helping me figure out what I like and don't like, and what I've missed out on during the last decade and more.

"Less ice cream scoops and more like a magnifying glass. If that makes sense," I finally answer before trying the fragrant wine. I let the sip sit on my tongue, trying to decide how I feel about it. Sydney and Kennedy wait for my reaction from where they both sit. Kennedy is curled up at the end of the couch, one slender leg tucked up under her as she's resting between the arm and back so she can face us. I'm at the other end of the couch, though I haven't gotten comfortable enough with the idea of putting my feet on furniture, no matter how much Sydney swears I can. I look at the glass of wine, the color sparkling in the overhead lights like a pale citrine gemstone. "I really like this one, what is it?"

"Called it!" Kennedy says, grinning with smug pride. "It's my favorite cheap riesling. Elk Cove from up in Oregon somewhere. I've told Blaze that when we finally decide to get a house around here, I want a wine fridge stocked with all my favorite whites."

Sydney tosses the popped cork at her from her seat in the matching arm chair with a grin. "Not that expensive? Your bougie mafia past life is showing, babe. My favorite cheap wine is, like, $12 a bottle. Maybe ."

I've found a kinship with Kennedy with our backgrounds. She's younger than me and married into the mafia unknowingly and her married life had been filled with the finer things in life. Except, like my background, her control was stolen away one beautiful lie at a time until she was as much a prisoner as I was. The difference between our escapes is she'd snapped and attacked her husband before fleeing for her life. I'd been saved by Bones in the middle of an attack that he had every reason to kill me for.

It's why Kennedy asked me about my therapy session today. Like me, she sees Dr. Anna Leigh regularly. She's down to monthly visits, though, and I'm still twice a week.

"It fucking sucks to be forced to really look at yourself," Kennedy murmurs after they stop giggling at their antics. She's cradling her glass with both hands. "I mean, it's worth it once you're able to start healing. It's just really shitty when you start out. I hope you know that."

I take another drink, this one larger and nod. "I know it'll be. I just thought I was better than I was, you know?" My cheeks burn in mortification and I wipe imaginary lint from my thigh. At least I'm wearing my own clothes now, purchased through the funds Cerberus Securities sets aside for client needs. "It makes sense why I froze the first time I tried to order my own food downstairs. Not just because the food was so limited at the compounds, but because I had so little agency.

"Hey," Kennedy stretches out her leg to nudge my thigh with her toes. I meet her honey colored eyes that are filled with understanding. "We did what we had to, to survive. You're not broken. Or at least not in any way that can't be fixed. And you're a hell of a lot stronger than you realize, too."

"Fuck yeah," Sydney agrees enthusiastically, holding up her wine glass in salute. "Women like us are forged in misery and we rise with bones of steel."

"Here, here!"

Kennedy and Sydney's exuberance is impossible to resist and I'm smiling enough my cheeks hurt. My chest aches with happiness at the simple pleasure of enjoying the company of people who are quickly becoming friends, in a place I can feel safe in. Even my clothes, the simple jeans and loose heather gray t-shirt are things I picked out. Like Kennedy said, I'm realizing that I'm not so broken I can't be fixed--even if I have no idea how long it'll take.

"So...." Kennedy drags out the word, waggling her eyebrows at Sydney conspiratorially. "How did your date go?"

I sit up straighter, attention zeroing in on Sydney who is currently talking a very long drink of wine. "Wait, date?"

"Ugh," Sydney drops her head back against the chair's cushion before glaring at us. Her dark eyes reveal nothing. She rakes a hand through her long black hair with irritation. When neither Kennedy or me give up she finishes off her wine before speaking, "It went about as I expected. He was interested, but I wasn't. Nothing wrong with him, other than he lives two hours away in the city. Perfect gentleman, cute..."

"I'm hearing a ‘but,'" Kennedy prompts and I nod in agreement.

" But there was no spark. I might as well have been getting dinner with a cousin." Sydney groans before leaning forward and refilling her glass with the last of the bottle. She shakes the empty one at Kennedy as she stands up. "Good thing you brought more than one. I'm going to grab us some things to eat from downstairs, any requests?"

Kennedy shouts out a request for mozzarella cheese sticks as the woman heads down the stairs leading to her bar. Honestly, I've realized I'm not that picky--maybe one of those weird not so bad things I got from my time with the Justicars. I'm more interested in how quickly Sydney left.

"She's avoiding the conversation, isn't she?" I ask. I'm not well experienced in socialization anymore, but I do remember what high school was like before I dropped out.

"Oh yeah." Kennedy stares in the direction Sydney disappeared before turning towards me and scooting closer. Her voice lowers, like she's worried we'll be overheard. "Lacy and me have a theory that something happened between Reaper and Sydney years ago that she hasn't gotten over. She says she doesn't like him but we've been paying attention. She ignores him way too much."

"Reaper? Like the president of the club?" Excitement scurries through my veins. Not necessarily for Sydney but I'm just enjoying this whole situation; gossiping like this is something I'd given up on ever experiencing again. I wonder if Bones knows anything. At the thought of him, my excitement dims but I refuse to let thoughts of him ruin my night. "Has Blaze told you anything?"

Kennedy's eyes sparkle with mirth and she's so pretty I can absolutely understand why Blaze fell so hard for her. The idea of humans having a relationship with a demon, let alone binding their souls to them, isn't strange to me anymore. It was impossible to think it as evil when Kennedy and Lacy are so clearly adored by their mates.

"Get this: Blaze says he has no idea what happened, other than it was years and years ago. They were fine one day, then she hated him the next. Reaper shuts any of them down that asks what happened."

I lower my brows, turning to look towards the stairwell, considering. "And Sydney has never said anything?"

Kennedy shrugs and leans back against the couch. "She just says she doesn't like him and that she's got plenty of reasons not to."

"Huh." I sit back, thinking about it. If I hadn't seen how well Lacy and Cinder and Kennedy and her Blaze work, I wouldn't have any questions about why Sydney so adamantly dislikes Reaper. I try to think of the times I've seen the two in the same room, but other than the bar below and at the clubhouse party, I don't think I've seen them near each other. Even then, they seem to keep clear of each other.

"Speaking of demons." Kennedy swings her foot up and nudges me again, a cheshire grin on her face. I brace myself for whatever she's about to say. "Any of them catch your eye? It seemed like Bones and you might have something at that party when he got all bent out of shape when Sampson was flirting with you."

I laugh but it isn't filled with happiness and Kennedy picks up on it right away. I reach back and tug my blonde hair free its tie, needing something to distract me. She waits, patient, while I gather my thoughts and finger comb my hair. I haven't talked about this to anyone, not even Dr. Anna Leigh.

"We kissed at the party." My cheeks burn at the admission and I start to plait my hair. "I'm pretty sure he's avoided me ever since."

"Were you okay with kissing?" she asks carefully.

I give her a sardonic grin. "I'm pretty sure I'd have let him do a lot more than kiss me that night. He's the one that stopped it and left. Pretty sure he's avoided me ever since."

Kennedy's mouth pinches. "I wonder why."

I give up another admission, "Before we kissed, he said something like, ‘just one kiss.'" I look at Kennedy under my eyelashes, trying to gauge her reaction. She looks surprised, her perfectly sculpted brows raised high, but then her lips morph into a grin.

"You know what that means, right?" She doesn't wait for me to respond. "It means he wants to kiss you but something is holding him back."

I consider her words while staring at my nearly empty glass of wine. If he wanted to kiss me, which it certainly felt like he wanted to kiss me, then why has he avoided me since? It can't be me, because I was clear about my own desire, right? So, is it him? Or something else? I go to ask Kennedy her opinion but the downstairs door opens with a bang, startling both of us. Someone begins to stomp up the stairwell and the wine turns sour in my stomach.

"Stupid men," Sydney grumps as her head comes into view. She stops at the top, a wicker basket with black and white checkered parchment paper in it, piled high with fries, fried cheese sticks and some sort of cheese with olives. In her other hand is a brown paper to-go box. Her dark eyes zero in on me as she holds the latter out. "Sorry, lady, but Reaper and Cinder are downstairs. They say you need to head with them to HQ."

Cold sweat beads my neck as a sense of dread demolishes the good mood I'd been in. I know, in my gut, whatever they need me for has to do with Father Xavius.