Page 54 of Heimlock

The laugh that explodes out of me takes her aback, but I can’t help it; I’m impressed. “Compliments of you, I assume?”

She holds up a palm, wriggling her orange-tipped fingers. “Five finger fryer right here.”

The way my insides feel is indescribable. It’s a mix of awe, fear, lust, admiration, and bewilderment. “How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

Eighteen. That was the same that I … no, not going there. But it’s strangely comforting to know we’re both vicious, even at that age. Desperate need to understand appears. Leaning forward, I ask, “What did he do?”

She looks to the door where Sebastian disappeared. Her mouth twists as she thinks.

“If I overstepped, you don’t have to share,” I say quickly. The goddesses know there’s so much I’ve never told anyone.

Kyrielle shakes her head. “No, it’s fine. I don’t like talking about it, but also, no one asks, either.” She exhales slowly. “Everything. He did everything. But he wasn’t the only one — he was simply the unlucky one to make me snap.”

The blackness inside me swirls in recognition. The words are on the tip of my tongue; me too. But my teeth won’t part. These secrets remain eaten.

Instead of letting her know she isn’t alone, I dip my chin. “I’m glad you survived.”

She considers me, mouth opening, surely about to ask about my past. Dread yanks my belly to the floor, but Sebastian sweeps in with the desserts. Saved by the cake.

The conversation ends.

After I pay the bill, Sebastian packs what we haven’t finished and bids us farewell. Stepping outside with Kyrielle, the leftovers bag in my hand, I inhale the fresh air. Anxiety has my body vibrating. It’s a struggle to calm my pulse.

“What do you think? A caterer worth hiring?” Kyrielle wraps her arms around her chest. The top of her head doesn’t reach the middle of my chest. How can someone so small be so fierce?

“I think it’s a good option for them.”

“Me, too.”

“I’ll let him know.”

It feels like something unnamed has shifted. I was convinced this would turn into an experience full of arguments. I’m not sure how to feel about the opposite happening.

What is there to say right now? I stare into her pale face, knowing how many secrets, hopes, and dreams hide behind that placid expression. All of it waiting to be activated by the right words.

Unfortunately, words are my curse.

“Um,” I shift, trying to figure out what to say. “This wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it would be.”

Kyrielle’s face lights up with a laugh. “Seriously? That’s all you have to say?”

“What?” I say defensively. “I genuinely thought we would fight this whole time. It’s all we do lately.”

Clearly unimpressed, Kyrielle crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow. “And whose fault is that, Trinte?”

“Yours?” I smile, knowing damn well it’s a lie.

Anger sparks in her eyes. “Are you bringing this right back to the bar?”

“No.” I deflate. “It might not appear that way, but I don’t hold that against you. We were both consenting adults who agreed it was a one-time thing. I just …”

Looking over her head, I stare into the distance, unsure of how to continue my train of thought without too much vulnerability.

She steps closer; close enough for me to scent her warm vanilla skin. Kyrielle is the embodiment of dessert. “Just what?”

“Nothing,” I mutter, switching the bag of leftovers from one hand to the other. “I should get going. Fynn is expecting me. Thanks—”