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“Yeah. Why not?” His nonchalant shrug sends a shy thrill through me, and I nod, a smile lighting up my face. When I look at him, it’s as if the world, previously dull, suddenly gains color. Mr. Stiles stands out, a vibrant color in this otherwise bleak existence. I can’t make out what that means, but when he’s near, the voices in my head hush, and the demon’s retreat.
A sudden flash startles me, and I blink rapidly, caught off guard.
“What the fuck was that?” I frown. Mr. Stiles turns his phone, revealing a picture of me, smiling, teeth on display, staringdirectly at him. In that frozen moment, I appear happy, content, someone in love.
Fuck.
Shit.
No.
No way.
My gaze shifts from the screen to Mr. Stiles, who studies the image as if it’s the best piece of art he has seen. “This,” he says, voice low, “is my favorite version of you. So fucking beautiful Brayden, and those eyes . . . ”
He trails off, a soft laugh escaping. His finger traces his own lips. “The way you look at me with those endless blue swirls—it’s become my addiction. I can’t imagine a day without it.” His head tilts, eyes locking onto mine and then he studies the picture again. “Now I get to see it every day.”
My heart races, and I’m suspended in a cloud of happiness, weightless and dizzy with possibility.
Shit.
I’m so fucked.
“Eat,” he smirks, closing his phone. I unwrap the sandwiches and laugh.
“Peanut butter and jelly? Am I five?” I tease.
“I don’t care how old you are. Peanut butter and jelly will never not be the best sandwich filling there is.” he states confidently.
“You stand correct,” I reply, taking a bite. The flavors explode in my mouth. “God, these are good. How have you kept them so fresh?”
“I had a cooler. Took them out when I picked up the car,” he explains, biting into his own sandwich.
You really went all out just to see me, didn’t you?” The city lights twinkle in his eyes as he focuses on me.
“You’re worth it.” His words hang in the air, and I try to swallow the goofy grin threatening to escape. To distract myself,I take a massive bite of my sandwich and then rummage through the rest of the picnic to see what else I can distract my racing heart with.
“Tell me something about yourself,” I say to Mr. Stiles.
We’ve devoured the picnic and now sit in the back of the truck, surrounded by darkness. The only light comes from the scattered city lights ahead. Mr. Stiles opens up a blanket, draping it over us. When he rests his arm on my shoulder, I feel myself melt into a puddle, my face nestled against his chest. It’s the calmest I’ve felt since childhood—back when Bex would cuddle me in bed, shielding me from the world. In those moments, I was the safest person on the planet. Bex created tales of an invisible shield around us, protecting us from everything. I’m back to being protected by that invisible shield.
“There’s nothing interesting about me,” Mr. Stiles replies, his heartbeat a lullaby that makes me drowsy. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything,” I whisper. Then a memory surfaces. “Who’s Jace?”
His chest stills, freezing the surrounding air. I lean up, meeting Mr. Stiles’s gaze. His eyes remain fixed on the city lights, their colors like shards of glass.
“My nephew,” he finally says. “One of the best people ever to grace this planet.” He smiles, taking a sip of water. “He was special.”
Was?
“Mr. Stiles, I—”
“You can call me Boh, or Bohdi when it’s only us,” he interrupts gently. “You don’t have to apologize for my loss or say the usual things people do. I can’t talk about it right now, but he’s gone, and no matter how much I wish otherwise, I can’t bring him back. But one thing I believe.” He pauses, running his fingers along my jaw.
“He brought me to you.” He takes my hand, linking our fingers, and gazes down at our tangled hands. “I truly believe that.”
Chapter thirty
