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“Though thief is the incorrect word,” he carries on like I didn’t speak. “What’s the name for a person who breaks in and leaves something?” My grin widens, more a baring of teeth than a smile. “Santa Claus.”
What happened to the birthday gift card I gave you to Bards, Blessings, and Beyond?
Orok’s look is full of such disbelief we could bottle and sell it.
My phone rings. It’s my dad? For a second, I stare. Holy shit. My dad’s calling. He never calls me. Dread chills everything in my body, a head-to-toe rush that has me answering in a scramble.
“Mr. Tourael and I are definitely”—I think of shattering the protection ward around his desk—“breaking down barriers.”
He climbs the stairs to stand at my side, taller than me again. Asshole.
summon Nick for a boost, and he sits at my side in a sharp purple beret.
🥰
To get credit for doing the bare minimum six years too late? Where the hell were you when I came home from camp every summer malnourished and ill, and you told me I needed to beef up before next year? Where the hell were you when I had to rip blood out of Orok’s body? I could feel his heart slowing down; do you have any idea what that’s like? I could feel him dying. I came home after that and you told me I was a failure. Where were you then?”
