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How she’d yell at him, and then the flush would go all the way down her chest, dipping below her bodice, at which time, naturally, he’d be distracted by it and stop listening. She’d notice and yell at him some more. He couldn’t wait.
He’d foolishly believed that if he ruined with purpose, it could never happen by accident again. That being The Villain would save him. Instead, he’d destroyed the one person who’d looked past it all, who’d not only truly seen him but who didn’t flinch when she did.
she was out of her mind for agreeing to go along with this walking HR violation in the first place.
Her heart fluttered, and she railed against it. Knock it off, you little traitor.
“What a horrible waste of pastry. I’d rather they throw rocks.”
“I. Am. Not. A. Victim.”
Why do men take pain as well as ice takes heat?
“You wicked bitch!” She took a bow. “At your service.”
She was afraid, but she knew now: fear usually meant you were standing on the edge of something new, something self-altering, something potentially good. Fear was not something she would shy away from ever again.
“I would never make the mistake of underestimating a woman like you. It would be a fatal one.”
“Evie Sage? She absolutely would.” And she did.
Don’t be an arsonist, Evie!
How unreasonably terrifying.
“You taught him to bite?” “Frogs have weak jaws. He required practice.”
This woman could convince someone to defy the hands of time if it suited her.
“Cease whatever trickery you’re planning. You’re terrifying the shrubbery with that look on your face.”
He would follow her off a cliff without question. And Evie knew she was in love with him. Right then, right there.
“Oh, you can run, little tornado, but you cannot hide.”
“Why should I give you a safe place, when you stole mine from me?”
The ride back to the manor had been tense and uncomfortable. Which was generally how the vast majority of Evie’s interactions went,
But that ship had sailed so far beyond the horizon, it practically lifted its middle finger in farewell.
You can’t be sad when you’re trying to be professional, Evie! But being professional is so sad, her mind argued.
“She’s as natural as a mooing chicken.”
“Do I hate you for protecting me instead of putting ink on my body that will kill me? Oh, yes. To the gallows with you, you deviant monster.”
It had occurred to her many times over that “impossible” was merely a word people used to describe limitations they wished for you to adhere to, so you wouldn’t upset the balance.
“Planning for safety in case of an emergency does not make me an enthusiast, Evil Overlord.”
Like with that one small act, he’d taken a needle and thread to the two broken pieces of Evie, slowly pulling her back together, slowly making her whole.
Her feelings were threatening to swallow her. Shove them down. That feels healthy.
It was a terrible feeling to be angry with someone and want to comfort them at the same time, and she wished that her brother would be just a bit more awful so she wouldn’t feel the need.
“Evie, dear, quit while you’re three feet belowground.”
relatable
it wasn’t thoughtless bravery that won the fiercest battles—it was welcoming the fear that lived inside your heart, in your mind, and harnessing it to carry your feet forward, knowing it couldn’t control you.
So many things should stay in her head. Most things, in fact.
same, evie, same.
if there was one thing she couldn’t tolerate, it was Evie’s sadness. It was the equivalent of watching a baby deer be pushed down by a stiff wind: sad, helpless, and a little pathetic.
“He’s like a teddy bear that got hold of a kitchen knife.”
“There was no villain’s assistant position…until he met you.”
a lightness to her steps that was different from the usual weight in her gait.
Brothers were a curious thing, somehow able to lighten even the heaviest of hearts.
Beware the wrath of a kind heart.
