Overwhelmed by that sudden fear, I said, “Don’t come back until you’re ready to tell me what you were doing at her place.” Patch impatiently pushed his way inside and closed the door behind him. “I didn’t come here to argue. I wanted to let you know Marcie ran into some trouble this afternoon.” Marcie again? Did he think he hadn’t dug a deep enough hole already? I tried to stay calm long enough to hear him out, but I wanted to yell across him. “Oh?” I said coolly.
“She was caught in the crossfire when a group of fall en angels tried to force a Nephil to swear fealty inside the men’s room at Bo’s Arcade. The Nephil wasn’t sixteen, so they couldn’t force him, but they had fun trying. They cut him up pretty bad, and broke a few ribs. Enter Marcie. She’d had too much to drink and walked into the wrong restroom. The fall en angel standing guard pulled a knife on her. She’s at the hospital, but they’ll release her soon. Flesh wound.”
My pulse jumped, and I knew I was upset that Marcie had been knifed, but that was the last thing I wanted to reveal to Patch. I crossed my arms stiffly. “Gee, is the Nephil okay?” I vaguely remembered Patch explaining, some time ago, that fall en angels can’t force Nephilim to swear fealty until they’re sixteen. Likewise, he couldn’t sacrifice me to get a human body of his own until I turned sixteen. Sixteen was a darkly magical, even crucial age in the world of angels and Nephilim.
Patch gave me a look that held the tiniest glare of disgust.
“Marcie may have been drunk, but chances are she remembers what she saw. Obviously you know fall en angels and Nephilim try to stay under the radar, and someone like Marcie, with a big mouth, can threaten their secrecy. The last thing they want is for her to announce to the world what she saw. Our world operates a lot more smoothly when humans are ignorant of it. I know the fall en angels involved.” His jaw tensed. “They’ll do whatever it takes to keep Marcie quiet.”
I felt a shiver of fear for Marcie but flushed it away. Since when did Patch care one way or the other what happened to Marcie? Since when was he more worried about her than me?
“I’m trying to feel bad,” I said, “but it sounds like you’re concerned enough for the both of us.” I jerked on the doorknob and held the door wide. “Maybe you should go check on Marcie, see if her flesh wound is healing properly.” Patch pried my hand loose and shut the door with his foot.
“Bigger things than you, me, and Marcie are going on.” He hesitated, as if he had more to say, but closed his mouth at the last moment.
“You, me, and Marcie? Since when did you start putting the three of us in the same sentence? Since when does she mean anything to you?” I snapped.
He cupped a hand over the back of his neck, looking very much like he knew he should choose his words carefully before answering.
“Just tell me what you’re thinking!” I blurted. “Spit it out! It’s bad enough that I have no idea what you’re feeling, let alone what you’re thinking!”
Patch looked around, as if he was wondering whether I was talking to someone else. “Spit it out?” he said, his tone darkly incredulous. Maybe even annoyed. “What does it look like I’m trying to do? If you’d calm down, I could. Right now you’re going to turn hysterical, regardless of what I say.” I felt my eyes narrow. “I have a right to be angry. You won’t tell me what you were doing at Marcie’s last night.” Patch threw his hands up. Here we go again, the gesture said.
“Two months ago,” I began, trying to inject pride into my voice to hide the quaver in it, “Vee, my mom— everyone—warned me that you were the kind of guy who sees girls as conquests. They said I was just another notch on your belt, another stupid girl you’d seduce for your own satisfaction. They said the moment I fell in love with you was the moment you’d leave.” I swallowed hard. “I need to know they weren’t right.”
Even though I didn’t want to recall it, the memory of last night resurfaced with perfect clarity. I remembered the whole humiliating scene in vivid detail. I’d said I loved him, and he’d left me hanging. There were a hundred different ways to analyze his silence, none of them good.
Patch wagged his head in disbelief. “You want me to tell you they’re wrong? Because I get the feeling you aren’t going to believe me, no matter what I say.” He glared at me.
“Are you as committed to this relationship as I am?” I couldn’t not ask it. Not after watching everything come tumbling down since last night. I suddenly realized I had no idea how Patch really felt about me. I thought I meant everything to him, but what if I’d only seen what I wanted? What if I’d grossly exaggerated his feelings? I held his eyes, not about to make this easy on him, not about to give him a second chance to skirt the issue. I needed to know. “Do you love me?”
I can’t answer that, he said, startling me by speaking to my thoughts. It was a gift all angels possessed, but I didn’t understand why he was choosing now to use it. “I’ll stop by tomorrow. Sleep well,” he added curtly, heading for the door.
“When we kiss, are you faking it?”
He stopped short. Another disbelieving shake of his head.
“Faking it?”
“When I touch you, do you feel anything? How far does your desire go? Do you feel anything close to what I feel for you?” Patch watched me in silence. “Nora—,” he began.
“I want a straight answer.”
After a moment, he said, “Emotionally, yes.”
“But physically no, right? How am I supposed to be in a relationship, when I have no idea how much it even means to you? Am I experiencing things on a whole different level?
Because that’s what it feels like. And I hate it,” I added. “I don’t want you to kiss me because you have to. I don’t want you to pretend it means something, when it’s really just an act.”
“Just an act? Are you listening to yourself?” He tipped his head back against the wall and gave another, darker laugh. He cut me a sideways glance. “Are you done with the accusations?
”
“You think this is funny?” I said, hit by a fresh wave of anger.
“Just the opposite.” Before I could say more, he turned toward the door. “Call me when you’re ready to talk rationally.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re crazy. You’re impossible.”
“I’m crazy?”
He tipped my chin up and planted a quick, rough kiss on my mouth. “And I must be crazy for putting up with it.” I pulled free and rubbed my chin resentfully. “You gave up becoming human for me, and this is what I get? A boyfriend who hangs out at Marcie’s, but won’t tell me why. A boyfriend who walks out at the first hint of a fight. Try this on for size: You’re a
—jerk!”
Jerk? he spoke to my thoughts, his voice cold and cutting.
I’m trying to follow the rules. I’m not supposed to fall in love with you. We both know this isn’t about Marcie. This is about how I feel about you. I have to hold back. I’m walking a dangerous line. Falling in love is what got me in trouble in the first place. I can’t be with you the way I want.