Page 52 of Fractured Fate

“That’s the weirdest thing.” She shook her head, putting her hands on her hips and pacing in front of him. “They have zero paperwork on anyone requesting anything delivered to this address.” She spun and pointed at him. “And before you ask, I asked about reoccurring pink rose deliveries, because surely someone would remember large bouquets of pink roses every week for weeks, right?” When he nodded, she said, “Well, the lieutenant had the same idea. When he asked about it, no one working there had any clue what he was talking about.” She threw up her hands. “No one! Not even the manager! How screwed is that?”

The news raised every red flag in the back of Aiden’s mind. The only time he knew of human businesses lacking a paper trail, coupled with no memories of events that undoubtedly happened, Vasirian were involved. Did one of his kin use compulsion to cover their tracks—or at least cover the stalker’s tracks? It made little sense. Why would a Vasirian invest themselves in a random human to that degree? Maybe he was overthinking it, but usually his instincts didn’t lead him astray.

He would need to be vigilant and keep an eye on her. She already had one Vasirian sniffing around her; she didn’t need another. In truth, she didn’t need any, but he disliked the idea of distancing himself from her.

Even if he couldn’t reveal things to her, she meant something to Blaire and had worked her way into his and his friends’ lives to where it felt wrong to not have her there. He wished he could include her more, but it would put her in danger, and they would lose her entirely when the Blackthorn Clan erased her memory for knowing of their existence.

She stomped over to the refrigerator and flung open the freezer door, sticking her head inside. “If this idiot doesn’t drive me off, the broken air conditioning will.” Her voice sounded muffled in the freezer.

He chuckled, watching her.

“What sucks even more?” She pulled her head out of the freezer and slammed the door shut. “I can’t even get a protective order against the person because I have no idea who it is!” She slumped against the wall beside the refrigerator. “I don’t know what to do.”

He pushed off the counter and strode toward her. She craned her head back to look up at him. She was so small—so vulnerable. The closer they became to one another, the more he saw glimpses of the fiery disposition she kept pushed down. He saw it surface from time to time with Blaire. It seemed she needed to be comfortable with someone before she allowed herself to be open. He wondered what made her filter herself.

“Why not come home? I mean, back to Rosebrook Valley. I know you said you wanted to stick it out, but…”

“But what?” She straightened, moving off the wall, almost brushing her chest against his ribs. He stepped back to give her space.

“But this is bigger than uncertainty about your major.”

She moved away from where they stood in front of the refrigerator to the door. Picking up the purse she dropped in her panic, she placed it on the counter. “I can’t.”

“Why not? Your moms would understand—especially if you tell them about all this.”

Her head swung to stare at him, eyes widened in alarm. “Hard no. They can’t know about any of this.”

“Again, why?”

He didn’t understand what her reservations were about leaving Athens, and even more so, what made her hesitant to share this with her parents when she went to the police already. Did she not want to leave because of that guy he met earlier, Noah? The idea set his teeth on edge, but he had no claim to her.

“I don’t want to worry them.” She stepped in front of the kitchen sink and began sorting the dishes drying in a plastic drainer. “I can handle this.” She opened a cabinet overhead. “I’m an adult.” She placed a clean glass in a neat line with several others on the shelf. “I can’t run to Mom and Ma every time something goes wrong.” She closed the cabinet. “They have enough on their plate without me adding to it when I’m the one who insisted on attending UGA.”

She recited her reasons like rehearsed bullet points; he wondered if she reminded herself of these things often. It didn’t have to be so black and white.

Unable to watch her spiral, he stepped up behind her and clamped his hands on her shoulders, startling her. Had she forgotten he was even there?

“It’s okay. It’s not important now,” he murmured, lowering his head next to hers, trying to sound soothing to help ease the tension in her muscles under his hands. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he didn’t enjoy seeing her distressed. “Let’s go pick up some groceries so you don’t have to deal with that later, and then play some video games. Gaming was the plan, remember?”

Dropping the cloth in her hand, she nodded. “I think I’d like that,” she said in a neutral voice, unlike her usual self.

The grocery shopping didn’t take long. She had all the little extras already, like condiments and spices. They primarily stocked up on things like meat, produce, dairy, and snacks, grabbing a little extra for their game night.

He couldn’t imagine how she brought everything home herself—on the bus, no less. He suspected she didn’t get as much when she went alone, and she confirmed this when she told him she frequented the grocery store more than once a week.

Once they packed everything away, they finished setting up for their evening of fun, only stopping to have an early dinner of chicken pineapple wraps Charlotte toasted on the portable indoor grill that fit on her kitchen counter.

The time flew as they lost themselves to the chaos of fending off monsters and collecting all the rewards in the different games they played.

Only when he got up and went to the bathroom did he notice the night sky through the crack in the curtains pulled closed over the sliding glass doors in her living room.

Pulling his phone from his jeans, he frowned at the display. He hadn’t meant to still be in town this late.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, glancing up at him from where she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of her TV with a controller in her hand. They had started gaming on their computers but switched to consoles around dinner time.

“It’s ten o’clock.”

“Already?” She grabbed her phone from where it lay face down on the floor. She hadn’t touched it all night. “Crap. Aiden, that’s too late for you to drive home.”