he’s with you, a queen?”
“Yes, and because he’s the son of a queen.”
“Oh.”
I study Jenna, surprised by how much I missed her in three months. She’s become far more than just a best friend. She’s family. And because I trusted her with our secret, she’s now a part of us.
“You cut your hair,” I say, only just noticing the layered strands resting on her shoulders and the new sheared fringe across her brow.
“The bangs were a bad idea.” She brushes them back with one hand. “But at least it’ll grow. It was way shorter than this at first. I looked like one of those weird dolls with the button eyes. I must have been having separation issues when you left, because I literally chopped it off one afternoon.”
“It looks good.”
“It looks like crap, but thanks for the vote of support,” she says with a smile. “You look the same.”
“I mimic, remember? I can make myself have a short, spiky Mohawk if I want to,” I say, shrugging. “Figured I look like this already, why change? Don’t traumatize the humans any more than I have to and all that.”
“That’d be interesting. Maybe I should have done that.” She flips her hair self-consciously. “Sawyer hates it.”
I roll my eyes. “That boy would be in love with you if you were bald, so don’t even try to tell me that. I’ve never seen anyone so crazy about anybody else, ever.”
“I have,” Jenna says, and then bites her lip, her face flushing as the brief lightheartedness between us disappears in an instant. She clears her throat and grabs my hand. “Lo was a mess this whole summer, you know. Without you. Every time I saw him, I could tell what being apart from you was doing to him. Cara tried to move in, and he shut that down so quickly I think she’s still recovering from the shock.”
“Don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”
“Why did you tell him to stay, Riss? It’s obvious that you two are meant to be together, even outside all of your bondage stuff.”
“Bond-ing.”
“Whatever. He loves you. You love him. I don’t understand why you did what you did. And frankly, maybe he’s sick because he has a broken heart.”
“Seriously?” If the situation weren’t so not funny, I would have laughed. “You sound like Sawyer. Humans don’t get sick and die over a broken heart. That’s ridiculous. They die from diseases.”
“It was Sawyer’s idea,” Jenna admits. “And there are plenty of cases throughout history where people have gotten ill from the stress of emotional trauma. There’s even an official condition called stress cardiomyopathy, caused by a temporary weakness of the heart from intense emotional issues.”
“Easy on the big words.”
“Let me make it simple for you. It’s like your girlfriend telling you that she doesn’t want to be with you even though she loves you but isn’t quite sure how you’re going to fit in her future and whether you have a place there. How’s that?”
“Ouch. Harsh,” I say, and pause, cringing. “And I didn’t say that. I told him we needed space to figure things out.”
“Same diff.”
“So, even if it were true, are you saying this is my fault?” I’ve already thought it myself, but hearing another person say it out loud is something else entirely.
Jenna takes a deep breath. “Riss, I’m your best friend, and you know we’ve always told each other the truth even when it hurts. I’m telling you now. You made a mistake telling him to stay here. And maybe it’s the human side of him that’s making him sick, but we humans are more fragile than you could ever imagine. Our emotional responses can have catastrophic effects on our physical health. When Sawyer and I broke up sophomore year, I got really sick, remember? For some inexplicable reason, my immune system decided to go on vacation. I have no proof, but the brain/body connection is a powerful thing. Don’t underestimate it.” I try to stand, but she grasps my shoulders, forcing me to remain where I’m sitting beside her on the bed. Her eyes are clear and compassionate, as if she can see the guilt consuming me in waves. “I’m not judging you or blaming you. I’m just glad you’re here now, that’s all.”
In truth, Jenna’s words are like whips, but they’re whips that I’ve already flayed myself with a dozen times over. I know I shouldn’t have made him stay here, but I thought it was the right thing to do...to give him the space to figure out who he was in relation to me and vice versa. Only maybe in teenage hindsight, it was a stupid decision—and according to Sawyer and Jenna, I’d only succeeded in breaking his heart.
“Riss,” Jenna says, her voice nearly inaudible. “There’s one more thing. It’s the reason Echlios wants to talk to you first before you see Lo.”
“What’s that?” I ask. Jenna’s mouth twists as if she’s about to say something that is as horrible as the look on her face. “Spit it out. Whatever you’re going to say can’t be worse than what you’ve already said. Truth, remember?”
“Okay,” she agrees slowly. She blurts it out in a rush. “You should know that Lo asked Echlios two days ago who you were.”
Turns out truth is overrated.
I’m a nervous wreck. Not because I’m seeing Lo for the first time in months, but because there’s a huge chance he won’t even recognize me. I think that’s why Echlios wanted to prepare me before I saw him. There’s also a good chance that Lo may recognize me if I’m right in front of him, but I don’t want to give myself false hope.
“Are you okay?” Echlios asks, as he pulls into Lo’s driveway.
“Fine.”
“That’s six ‘fines’ since we left the house.”
“What do you want me to say, Echlios? That I’m terrified? That I’m scared out of my mind that the boy I’ve bonded with won’t know who I am? That I’m going to lose him? That without him, it feels like I won’t be able to hold myself together? That without him, I’m dissolving?” I say in a dead, emotionless voice. “Let’s just leave it at ‘fine,’ okay?”
Echlios’s jaw drops open. “I didn’t...realize.”
I swallow thickly. It’s completely incongruous, really, the whole situation. I’m the one who was hung up on the whole bonding thing. Lo and I bonded. But something inside me couldn’t quite sit with the idea that I was tricked, and instead of accepting what was completely natural and consensual on both sides, I pushed it away. And now there’s a very real possibility that the boy I love doesn’t even know who I am.
“It’s okay. Let’s just get it over with,” I say, forcing a bravado that I don’t feel into my voice.
Grayer, Lo’s valet-slash-butler, opens the door. His face is as stoic as I remember, but something
