Cleo squeezed me, her small inhale echoing with relief.
“Well, keep an eye on it. That brain of yours is too precious to risk.”
Temper swarmed and I clutched the phone harder. “Anything else? I have to go.” I released Cleo, moving away. “Club’s having a get-together tonight. We’re late.”
Wallstreet cleared his throat. “Nope, nothing else. I’ll keep you informed if I get the good news I’m hoping for. And I’ll look forward to your call about Samson.”
I nodded. “Will do.”
“Oh, one other thing. Tell Cleo I look forward to meeting her again soon. You’ve chosen a fascinating woman, Kill.”
My spine shot straight. “What do you mean?”
Wallstreet laughed. “Nothing, my boy. Only that I want to get to know her better. After all, she’s now in equal command in my Club. Bring her to see me again soon.”
I gritted my teeth. As much as I loved Wallstreet and as much as I adored Cleo, having them as anything more than long-distance acquaintances wasn’t a good idea.
“Sure, will do.” Before he could say anything else, I hung up.
“Everything okay?” Cleo asked, dragging the tip of her finger along the grooves of the tabletop.
“Yes, fine.”
Her eyes lingered on my phone as I strummed the keypad. A thought shadowed her face like a passing cloud before dispersing with a gust of wind.
“You all right?” I moved forward, pinching her chin with my thumb and forefinger, forcing her to look at me.
She smiled. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
The thought might’ve disappeared from her face, but it lingered in her eyes. “What is it?”
She dropped her gaze to the phone again. “It’s nothing … silly really.”
“Nothing you want or need is silly, Buttercup. Tell me and I’ll make sure you get it—whatever it is.”
She sighed. Gathering her hair into a twist, she draped it over her shoulder. The stalling didn’t calm my nerves, but I let her decide when to tell me.
“I miss her,” she suddenly blurted.
“Miss who?”
“Corrine.”
When I stared blankly, her lips quirked. “My foster sister. I didn’t even say goodbye to her properly when I came here. Rubix’s letter sort of wrenched me from my simple world and didn’t give me time to decide if I should cut ties or just treat it as a vacation.”
Without a word, I placed the phone on the table and nudged it toward her. “Call her.”
Her eyes popped wide. “Really?” She looked at me with such gratefulness, such love, that a fucking sledgehammer mangled my heart. Is that how she thought of me? That she was still my captive? Cut off from the people who’d taken her in and kept her safe when I couldn’t?
Taking her hand, I grabbed the phone and placed it into her palm. Curling her fingers over the device, I smiled. “Call her. I’ll be outside with the others.” I kissed the tip of her nose. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be waiting.”
With one last kiss, I left.
Chapter Nineteen
Cleo
Arthur said he wasn’t a romantic.
I told him he was a liar.
Last week, I’d found daisies stuffed into my sneakers when I went to put them on. They’d been where they always were—haphazardly kicked off and abandoned on the porch, but they’d transformed from shoes to vases.
Yesterday, I’d found a little note stuck in my window frame. It was soggy and smeared from the recent rain shower but I could still make out his neat penmanship. All it’d said was, “As You Wish,” but being that it meant “I love you” from my favorite movie … my heart almost burst.
And tonight, he’d given me a ring. A mood ring with a Sagittarius archer guarding the stone. It was a gimmick. A child’s toy. But to me it was so much more. —Cleo, diary entry, age fourteen
“Hello?” a sleepy voice crackled in my ear.
The moment Corrine’s feminine, flirty tone came through the phone, I wanted to laugh, cry, and spew out every single wondrous and horrendous thing that’d happened since we’d last been together.
So much to say.
So much I couldn’t say.
I’d stared at the phone for minutes before deciding to call her. Arthur didn’t know the gift he gave when he left.
He’s so good to me.
“Corrine.”
A shocked pause, followed by a squeal. “Sarah?”
The name felt wrong—like a pair of shoes I’d been trying to wear in but never could. Sarah pinched and confined, whereas Cleo was comfort and home. No, wrong name. “Yes, it’s me.”
Rustling filled the line before a short curse was uttered. “Shit, what time is it there?”
I slapped my forehead. Of course, time zones. “Crap, I’m so sorry. Did I wake you? It’s only early evening here.”
“You did, but only ’cause I pulled an all-nighter last night with a kitty who wasn’t doing so well giving birth. I crashed when I came home.”