I wiggled my fingers at him.
David's frown turned severe.
It was time for me to make an exit. I glanced around but didn't see Ren. I guessed he'd already left. Disappointment bounced around inside me again, and I had no ownership to that. Maybe he was going out to find someone to spend the night with, and boy oh boy, I so did not like the thought of that. Jealously wasn't a green-eyed monster but a fire breathing dragon when my mind produced an image of Ren this morning, his muscled thighs blocking me in, his hips level with my mouth. Thinking about another girl made me want to cut someone.
I needed help.
Maybe if I survived Wednesday, I could check out some therapy. Or at least acupuncture or something.
The clouds had darkened when I stepped out of the building, and I turned to my right, immediately coming face to face with Ren.
I stumbled back a step. Heat rushed my face and then quickly dropped when my eyes locked with his. Standing in front of Ren was about seven different kinds of awkward.
"I was waiting for you," he said. "Though I'm sure that's obvious."
At a complete loss for words, all I could do was stare up at him. The green-eyed fire-breathing dragon was demanding that I ask if he planned on listening to David's advice, but luckily, common sense told the dragon to shut the hell up.
"We need to talk." Ren's eyes never left my face.
I found my voice. "No. We don't. We don't have to do anything." I forced myself to turn away then, because I feared if I did stay, if I did talk to him, I wouldn't be able to distance myself. I wouldn't walk away and I'd . . .
I'd keep falling underwater when it came to him.
"You're a coward."
I froze as those three words washed over me, then I whipped around, facing him as the first drop of rain smacked off the sidewalk. "Excuse me?"
Ren lifted his chin. "You heard me right. I hate saying it, but it's true."
Anger rose in me like thick smoke. Though I shouldn't be surprised that he was finally going to confront me after this morning. He had a right to say whatever he felt was necessary, but that didn't mean I had to stand there and listen to it. "Whatever, dude. Think what you want to think. I'm going home."
"For someone who is so strong and so brave, I never would've thought you'd be such a coward when it really counts," he continued. "I get that you've been hurt before. Guess what? All of us have lost someone close to us, but—"
"You have no idea what you're talking about," I snapped, raising my hand and pointing at him. "You know nothing about what I've lost."
"Then tell me, Ivy. Make me understand."
My mouth opened, but there were no words, just silence and a deep cutting shame when I thought about the night I lost everything. How could I tell him? How could I tell anyone? Pivoting around, I started walking.
"That's right," Ren called out. "Just walk away."
And that's what I did.
~
The distant rumble of thunder matched my mood as I roamed aimlessly through my apartment Tuesday night. The sun had long since disappeared, and I'd seen on the TV that severe storms would be moving through the area the next two days. Perfect.
I stared out the French doors leading to the balcony, watching the rain pound the wooden boards as I counted the seconds between the flash of light and answering thunder. Twenty seconds. When I was younger, Adrian taught me to count the seconds between the strike of lightning and the boom of the thunder to tell how many miles away the storm was. Probably wasn't the most correct method of judging where a storm was located, but to this day it was an old habit.
But one thing Adrian hadn't taught me was what to do with those seconds.
I never knew what to do with those seconds.
Oddly, as I rested my forehead against the cool glass, I wasn't afraid for myself. The fear churning through me, despite the fact there was a good chance I wouldn't survive tomorrow night, had nothing to do with my own fate. We lived with death and we knew it waited for each and every one of us. We were taught not to fear the inevitable, but again, what we were never taught was how to live on when those around us left. The fear I tasted in the back of my throat was for all those who might not survive tomorrow night.
For Val, and even David and Miles, and Ren.
I feared for them, but not myself. And I feared what would happen if we weren't successful tomorrow night. Knots tightened in my stomach at the mere thought of the gate opening. Mankind had no idea how frail their position of power was, and once the knights came through, their position would be even more precarious. If they managed to find the halfling and knock boots, producing a baby, then those doors would never close. Nothing would stop the fae from taking humans back to their world again or from coming into ours in far greater masses.