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I had to learn about heartbreak for the first time in my long, long life.

And it boiled down to this.

You could get used to the pain.

You could nearly numb yourself to the sting.

But it was there, an ache just under your ribs, a sudden sinking sensation in the stomach when a memory popped up unbidden and unwelcome.

It was always, always there.

It was the first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes, the last thing I felt before I went to sleep. And for some extra cruelty, my dreams were riddled with her.

Not the lies. Not the backhandedness.

No.

It was the good memories: the way her eyes warmed when she smiled at something I said, how she sighed and snuggled closer to me in her sleep, how she moaned my name when I was inside her.

Waking up felt like remembering the exposure all over again, like losing her all over again. Or maybe it was more accurate to say it was like losing the version of her I’d fallen in love with all over again. Because, clearly, that wasn’t who she was.

And not even her small, raw voice on the line the night before was going to change my mind on that. No matter how much I’d been obsessing about that ever since.

I reached for my mug of coffee to wash down the blood I’d just chugged. It tasted bland and flat on my tongue. Nothing like the sugar-sweet taste of Maggie’s blood. I didn’t feed on her, not really. Just a slight taste here and there.

I didn’t even want to feed again so soon, but I’d been called in for a meeting with the radio station executives. One that was going to include Maggie.

I wasn’t online, but it was impossible not to be painfully aware of how viral the clip from the convention had gone.

The higher-ups wanted to have a sit-down meeting to talk about how to “control the narrative” and “decide whether to capitalize on or steer” the situation.

It felt too soon to see her again.

I was too raw.

Like someone had cut me open, like something was still seeping out, everything about me aching and exposed.

But it was made clear that this was a non-negotiable meeting.

Feeding gave me strength.

If there was ever a day I would need it, this was the one.

I grabbed my jacket and made my way to the door, finding it fitting that the sky had just opened up, pouring down buckets of rain.

It suited my mood as I grabbed an umbrella and walked outside.

Steam rose up from the rain-slicked pavement as I walked, trying to steel myself, to prepare myself for her rehearsed excuses and insincere apologies.

I walked through the station doors and was met with pure chaos.

As far as I knew, Maggie hadn’t returned to work, likely not wanting to face my wrath and all the attention from nosy listeners who’d been camping outside during my shift.

The absence of her was all around.

Not metaphorically, but in tangible ways.

That fern was screaming near the front door. Tufts of fur were stuck to the furniture and the carpets. A trio of guests was having a screaming match in the waiting room. Two witches were on their knees, alternating between chanting and sobbing for their beloved demon, who still didn’t seem to return their affections—if he existed at all. Mail and packages had spilled off the desk, a sea of paperwork that people had already trampled on.