Macy squeaks, which tells me everything I need to know about what mood he’s in. She’s relaxed around him a lot in the last few weeks—friendship will do that—but it doesn’t mean she’s forgotten how dangerous he is. And neither has anyone else, apparently. It’s reflected in the faces of every single person around me, in the way they all seem frozen, like they’re just waiting for Jaxon to strike…and want to make damn sure that they aren’t the one he goes after.
Even Flint is sitting back in his chair, both his pancakes and his conversation with Eden about their physics final forgotten, as he looks right past me. The look in his gaze is a combination of wary and reckless, and it’s worry over Flint—over what he’s feeling and what he might do—that has me turning around before things go to absolute shit around me.
I’m not the least bit surprised to find Jaxon behind me. I am, however, surprised at just how close he really is. A few weeks ago, there’s no way he’d have been able to get within a few inches of me without my entire body going haywire. All I’ve got now is this shiver down my spine, and it’s not exactly a good feeling.
After dinner last night, he’d invited me back to his tower to study, but I couldn’t go, since Hudson had already asked me to study with him. I get frustrated just thinking of the mess that ensued, since neither of the Vega brothers could be adults about the situation and let us all study together.
I’d ended up studying in my room, alone. And not learning a damn thing because I was too busy being pissed at them.
But then I texted Jaxon twice today, and he hasn’t so much as acknowledged I exist. I get that he doesn’t like my friendship with Hudson—but he has to know that’s all it is. Friendship. I apparently have no choice in who I’m mated to, but I’ve shown Jaxon in a thousand different ways that he’s who I choose to love.
Which is why I’m so annoyed by the cold shoulder he’s given me all day.
He must feel the same way, because his dark eyes are as cold as midnight.
As cold as Denali’s summit in January.
As cold as they were the very first time we met. No. Colder.
For what feels like forever, he doesn’t say anything and neither do I. Instead, the silence stretches thin as ice—between us and around us—until Luca finally steps out from behind him and asks, “Mind if we sit with you guys?”
For the first time, I realize the entire Order is here. I’ve grown used to eating with Jaxon and Mekhi a few times a week, obviously, but it’s rare for all of Jaxon’s friends to join us. Yet here they are—Luca, Byron, Rafael, Liam, all lined up behind Jaxon like they’re expecting an attack.
“Of course.” I gesture to the empty seats scattered around the table, but Luca isn’t asking me. His gaze is laser focused on Flint. Who, it turns out, is looking right back, a slight flush on his brown cheeks.
And wow, this is a development I did not see coming. But one I am absolutely here for.
A glance at Eden tells me she’s watching the whole thing as intently as I am, and the smile on her face makes me wonder if maybe I was wrong about who Flint has been in love with. I thought he meant Jaxon that day on the Ludares field, but maybe he meant Luca all along? Or maybe Luca was the new guy he was referring to? Since our talk, Flint hasn’t mentioned his love life again, and I didn’t feel it was fair to question him about it, either.
But whatever he was getting at that day, it’s obvious—right now at least—he is definitely interested in Luca. Who, apparently, is interested right back.
Flint nods, and Luca crosses over to sit next to him. Before I can even think about where Jaxon is going to sit, Macy has scooted her chair closer to Eden’s, creating an obviously empty space for someone to sit beside me. Jaxon nods his thanks, and seconds later, he’s pulled a chair from another table and is sliding in right next to me.
My heart jumps as his thigh grazes mine, and he grins just a little. Shoots me a look out of the corner of his eye I’d recognize anywhere. Then very slowly, very deliberately, does it again.
This time, my breath catches in my throat, because this is Jaxon. My Jaxon. And though our relationship hasn’t felt the same since the challenge, and though I’m so confused I can barely think, I still want him. I still love him.
“How was your day?” he asks softly.
I shake my head as the state of my grades, and the precariousness of my graduating, comes back to me. “So bad that I don’t want to talk about it.”
I don’t mention that him not answering my texts only made the day worse. I can tell from the look in his eyes that he already knows it. And that he doesn’t like this mess any more than I do.
“How—” My voice breaks, so I clear my throat and try again. “How about you? How was your day?”
He makes a face, shoves his hand through his silky black hair hard enough to reveal the jagged scar on his left cheek. The scar the vampire queen Delilah—his mother—gave him for murdering her firstborn son. Who is now back. And is now my mate, even though I am still in love with my old mate whose bond with me should never have been able to be broken.
Just thinking about it makes my head hurt.
Talk about a soap opera. I couldn’t make this stuff up if I tried.
“Pretty much the same,” he finally answers.
“Yeah, I figured.”
He doesn’t offer anything else, and neither do I. Around us, the conversation ebbs and flows, but I can’t think of a single thing to say to break his stony silence. It feels strange to be this awkward with Jaxon, when we used to talk for hours about anything. About everything.
I hate it so much, especially watching how easy everyone else is with one another. Eden and Mekhi are laughing together, and so are Macy and Rafael. Byron and Liam are talking intensely about something, and Flint and Luca… Well, Flint and Luca are definitely flirting, while Jaxon and I can barely look at each other.
I start to take another bite of my frozen yogurt but realize I’ve lost my appetite before I so much as get the spoon to my mouth. I drop it back in the bowl and decide: fuck it. If things are so weird that I can’t eat, I might as well go to the library.
Jaxon must sense my unease, though, because just as I’m about to get up, he slides his hand over mine. It feels so familiar, so good, that I automatically turn mine over to lace our fingers together even though I’m still annoyed with him.
He kisses my fingers before placing our joined hands onto his leg under the table, and a shiver of awareness runs through me. It’s moments like these, when we’re touching, that I think maybe we still have a chance. Maybe everything isn’t as screwed up as it seems. Maybe there really is hope.
I’m pretty sure he feels the same way, judging by the grip he has on my hand. And the fact that he doesn’t say anything to break the comfortable silence between us, almost as if he’s as afraid as I am to ruin this moment. So we just sit there, soaking in the conversations going on around us. It works, too, at least for a little while.