Page 173 of Darling Venom
I read it.
Venom splayed out on the rooftop before me, body resting on the panels, back arched to admire the stars.
The look she wore matched the one she sent my way between classes.
Longing. Hunger. Tangled with something fiercer.
When I saw her like this, words shotgunned to my head, demanding to be heard. Mom and Dad were toxic together, and they called that love.
I think true love is an uncontrollable habit, like breathing. We are born with the capacity for it, so when it happens, it’s easy.
It’s me and Venom. On the roof. The only people in the world.
Us and the stars.
It was a scene I’d revised.
In the original version, Kellan saw the way I turned away from him as he spoke and assumed I didn’t want to hear him. That I was there for the thrill and not for the company.
After I left, he considered catapulting himself off the building, brought himself as close as dancing at the very tip of the ledge, and stopped when his half-brother’s mom sent a thank-you text with a photo of herself in the sweater he’d gifted her for Christmas.
I couldn’t stomach the scene.
It didn’t feel real. As if he’d embellished it for the dramatic flair. But I knew Kellan enough to know he’d meant every word. Worse, he knew I’d see the manuscript, and he’d still written it.
I could never bare my soul like that, for the world to see my biggest mistakes, deepest fears, and failure to love.
In fact, I couldn’t even tell the one person that mattered.
Kellan.
I plucked at my leg, shaking it. The room felt hot. I hunched forward, lost in my reverie, until Helen snapped me out of it in the worst way possible.
“Do you think Terry Marchetti would be interested in completing the edits?” She collected the manuscript, flipping through it absentmindedly.
I don’t think he deserves to.
An anchor settled at the bottom of my stomach. I felt the rest of my body plummeting with it, starting with my heart and lungs. It was hard to breathe all of a sudden. It must’ve looked like I was gaping.
Helen read my hesitation. “Before you say anything, this is not a ploy to get Mr. Marchetti’s name tied to this project. It already is by default. I see strong seeds of The Imperfections in the book, maybe because of their relation, and I think Terry Marchetti would be a great match. It is obvious Kellan has taken a lot of inspiration from his father.”
“I’ll discuss it with him.”
Unlikely.
“Please, do. Actually, I don’t often do this on a book I haven’t inked a deal for, but these are my notes on the manuscript—line, copy, and developmental.” She returned the manuscript to me. “It’s yours. Even if you don’t sell the book to me. Even if you sell it to Loran Greene from Hatch Press, that asshole.”
I picked up Darling Venom and dropped it into my bag as fast as I could, scared it would burn me. “Thank you.”
“How about you make these edits—yourself or with Mr. Marchetti’s help—and get back to me about the pre-empt? Then we can go from there, or you can shop it elsewhere or take it to auction.”
Helen leaned forward, her body language at odds with her words. She wanted the book, and she wanted it bad. So, the fact that she didn’t sell herself on it, that she’d committed to doing the right thing, made me want her as the editor more.
“No hard feelings,” she promised, “though I’ll definitely be jealous of whoever lands it.”
She flashed me a smile. I knew I should express my gratitude, but it was hard to speak around the ball of emotions lodged in my throat.
Instead, I stood with her, gathering my boots from the cubby and trying to lace them on as fast as I could without appearing rushed.
