Page 41 of Sincerely, Butterfly

“Jasper, Wesley, and Sylas,” I rush out.

He doesn't say anything for a moment before sighing heavily. “Nola,” he groans again.

“I’m sorry, okay? But I can’t help it, I love them.”

“I’m not surprised,” he responds with a huff.

“You’re not?” My brows furrow.

“No.” He shakes his head. “The way they acted when you were kids, always protective. Even after you all stopped hanging out, they were always asking me how you were.”

“They did?” My excitement grows, and I can practically feel my eyes lighting up.

“They did. But after a while, they stopped. I thought they lost interest, but I guess they took things into their own hands.” He grins. “I saw the way they looked at you at graduation."

He did?

“I should have known then,” he says. “How long?”

“How long for what?”

“How long have you been with them?”

“Oh.” My cheeks start to burn. “Well, you see… we’re not technically together.Yet!” I rushed out. “We will be. I’m working on it.”

“So you’re not together. Why? They sure do seem to care about you. Have you told them how you feel?”

“No,” I mutter. “Because I can’t speak more than three words without my face going as red as a tomato and averting eye contact.”

“Aw, that's so sweet,” he gushes.

“It’s not!” I groan. “That’s the problem. They think I’m some innocent little girl who’s too pure to be with them because of who they are and the life they live.”

I don’t say more because I sure as hell am not going to mention the fucked up gang bangs they have and how they don’t think I can handle their depravity. My dad doesn’t need to know about my sexual preferences. Thanks.

“Ahh.” He nods his head in understanding. “I could see how that would be an issue.”

“So now I need to come up with a plan to show them that I’m not like what they think, that I can be the right girl for them and can fit into their life seamlessly. I mean, hell, I’m perfect for the position—my dad is an ex-serial killer, and my grandfather is the head of the Russian mafia.” I jump to my feet. “But I can’t just go up to them and be like,hey, I’m not normal like you think. I’m actually crazy. So, pick me, choose me. Love me.”

When I spin back around, I find my dad grinning at me with amusement.

“You’re loving my pain and misery, aren’t you?” I groan. “Stop.”

“I’m not,” he laughs. “I’m sorry. I mean, nothing says you love a person more than murdering for them. You could tell them about Scarlett.”

“They wouldn’t believe that,” I counter back. “Plus, one dead person isn’t going to be enough to convince them.”

“You could always kill some more,” he suggests.

That has me pausing. As that sinks in, a devious, crazy smile spreads across my face. “I could.”

“I meant it as a joke, Nola.” He looks a little panicked. “Whatever you're thinking, no.”

“No. Really,” I say as the idea runs through my mind. “That could work.”

“What could work?” he asks cautiously.

“Killing more people. Oh my god, it could be like a resume of kills.” I clap my hands together in excitement. “I could show them that I’m perfect for them by having a few kills under my belt. Prove to them I can handle their lifestyle.”