The Girl and the Gargoyle: Book Two of The Girl and the Raven Series (18 page)

I finally find my voice. “My uncles are making burgers and tater tots for dinner. You’re invited to join us.”

“Hmmm…Dylan’s usually the one who gets invited to dinner.”

“I know. I have to be honest…” I almost choke on the word. “They spoke with your mom today. The three of them had coffee. She just left. I think she shared the whole story with them.”

He pauses on the other end of the line. “The
whole
story?”

“Not the part about you and Garret being protectors and not about Jude or how Garret attacked you,” I say quickly. “The other part, about her taking off. Sheldon and Bernard called her brave.”

It takes him a while to respond. “Interesting.”

“I thought so, too.” I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. “If it helps you to make a decision, I’m told Sheldon makes the best burgers.” I immediately regret saying it.

“Let me guess…by Dylan?”

“Please come.” There’s a part of me that wouldn’t mind if he declines, and I hate myself for it.

“Sure. I’ll come. I can’t believe I haven’t kissed you since Saturday. How is that possible?”

My laugh sounds robotic. “I don’t know.”

So lame.

An hour and a half later I’m done with homework. I brush my hair, apply cherry lip balm, and join my uncles in the kitchen.

“I’ll set the table.” I volunteer as Sheldon takes a platter of raw patties and a veggie burger outside to the grill.

While the smell of tater tots baking is delicious, the heat from the oven is oppressive. I jump as water hisses on top of the stove. Bernard lifts the lid on the steamer and fills it with broccoli.

He glances over his shoulder at me. “Put all the condiments on the table, too, will you?”

“Sure.”

When the doorbell rings a few minutes later, I move on leaden legs to the living room and open the door for Marcus.

He smiles at me, and I’m torn between feeling like the happiest girl alive and the worst girlfriend ever. He pulls me into his embrace.

“I’ve missed you.” He buries his face in my hair.

I wrap my arms around him and inhale his amazing smell. That familiar stirring comes to life inside of me. The kind of attraction I feel for Marcus makes my heart swell and my toes curl. When his arms are around me, I feel safe, loved, and excited. With Dylan, it’s dangerous and desperate. It’s the wrong kind of hot, like we’re going to catch fire. “I’ve missed you, too.”

“Yeah?” The word comes out soft and slow. His eyes burn into mine.

Our lips meet and my arms automatically circle his neck. These are the lips I know. His kisses are gentle, probing, loving, not hard and demanding like Dylan’s.

Marcus winds his fingers through my hair. “Thank you for that,” he says, a satisfied smile on his face.

I tug on his arm. “Come on in. You’re a VIP at our table tonight.”

“Maybe I should’ve told them my sad tale a long time ago,” Marcus teases as he follows me to the kitchen.

My uncles decline Marcus’s offer to help and direct him to a chair. I pour lemonade for everyone.

Marcus lifts his glass and looks curiously at the green stems in the liquid.

“It’s rosemary,” I tell him.

“Herbed lemonade is all the rage right now,” Bernard says, taking a long draw from his glass. “Lucy learned about it before I did, if you can believe it.”

Marcus studies me over his glass. I wink back at him. My original intention with the rosemary was to help my uncles keep their cool when we talk about the vacation—something I learned in Gram’s books—and now it’s their favorite beverage.

“Marcus, we met Camille this afternoon. She’s an intriguing woman.” Sheldon carries the platter of burgers in through the back door.

“She is.” Marcus dips a tater tot in ketchup, then pops it in his mouth. Our eyes meet and I suspect he’s wondering the same thing as me. What’s Camille up to? Maybe she’s trying to get to Marcus through my uncles?

“She mentioned she’s a fan of the arts. Do you think she’d be interested in joining us at the opera next month?”

“Maybe. You’d have to ask her,” Marcus says with a shrug.

My uncles seem to pick up on Marcus’s reluctance to talk about his mother and, fortunately, there’s no more talk of her through the rest of the meal.

While my uncles and I clean up the kitchen—they forbid the guest of honor from helping—Marcus offers to grab my sweatshirt from my bedroom for our trip to the roof. I bite my lip and turn away as he leaves the room.

I need to tell him
. I can’t keep it inside any longer. If someone as awful as Camille can be brave and confess to my uncles how she abandoned her son, then I can be brave and tell Marcus about my kiss with Dylan.

Marcus is quiet as he helps me over the railing.

He knows something.
But how? I study him out of the corner of my eye. I move around him and am about to sit down in our normal spot when he clears his throat. I look up. He hands me my cell phone.

“It kept buzzing when I was in your room.” Marcus’s expression is pinched. “Someone was eager to get in touch with you. I thought it might be Jude, that he’d get upset if he couldn’t reach you.”

My heart sinks like a lead weight. It’s impossible to read his expression, but his detached tone scares me. Not cold, exactly, more like he’s talking to a complete stranger. He gestures for me to take the phone. “Text messages. You should read them.”

Three messages and they’re all from Dylan. I don’t want to read them, but what else can I do while Marcus’s eyes burn holes into me?

I lick my lips nervously. I glance at Marcus, see his unwavering stare, then look back at my phone.

I click on the first message.
You can’t hate me forever, you know. I’m sorry about the kiss.

Okay. Not so bad. I can explain this to Marcus.

I click on the second message.
But tell the truth. It was incredible. I know you felt it, too.

I try to inhale, but my lungs won’t cooperate. I glance at Marcus. “I can explain…”

Marcus narrows his eyes. “Please continue.” His voice drips with sarcasm. “The last one is my favorite.”

Jude’s right. We’re meant to be together. It’s time to dump Marcus.

My stomach spasms as fear rips through me, fear that Marcus is going to dump me here on the roof. I slip my phone into my back pocket with an unsteady hand.

“So this whole time you and Dylan…” Marcus spits out the words. “Demon training?”

“We
have
been training.” The words sound defensive. Will he mistake it for guilt? Then again…I am guilty. I kissed Dylan back. I felt what he felt. I didn’t want to, but I did.

“Right,” he grinds out the word. “And plenty of other stuff, too, apparently.”

“Marcus, please. It didn’t mean anything. I swear.” Tears burn my eyes, my throat. “I love you—”

“And Dylan? Do you love him?”

“No! I mean, as a friend…yes, but not romantically. Not anything close to how I feel about you. It was a mistake.”

Marcus rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I have to go.”

I reach for him. “Wait…Marcus!”

“Don’t you get it? I can’t be around you right now,” he chokes. “If only you could see your face.”

He swings his leg over the ledge and jumps off the building.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“What happened to carpooling with Dylan in the mornings?” Katie complains.

I slam my locker door and sling my backpack over my shoulder as we head to lunch. “Dylan and I aren’t talking right now,” I confess.

She grabs my arm and yanks me out of hallway traffic. “What happened?”

I can’t look her in the eye.

Katie gasps. “You didn’t.”

Am I that transparent?

“Did you two make out or something?”

I pull my hair over my shoulder, twist it over and over as I will the tears not to come. Finally, I nod, not trusting my voice.

Katie’s eyes nearly pop out of her head. “Holy crap! Does Marcus know?”

I nod again, my eyes brimming.

“How mad is he?”

I sputter and roll my tear-filled eyes at her.

“Okay. Dumb question. Did he break up with you?”

“I…don’t…know.” I hiccup. “He’s…not…talking…to…me.”

“What’re you going to do?”

Tears slide down my cheeks. I wipe them away quickly and turn my face away from the students walking by. I swallow several times, struggling to get myself under control.

“I don’t know. Dylan likes to visit his brother and sister on Saturday when I babysit.” I pull a tissue from my purse and blow my nose. “I texted him, told him not to come this weekend. He’s mad at me, too, since I slapped him.” I shake my head miserably. “So, he’s not responding.”

“You slapped Dylan?” Katie does that thing again with her eyeballs. “Oh, my God. I bet he’s furious.”

“I don’t care,” I snap. “He knows I have a boyfriend. He shouldn’t have started it.”

I see the look on Katie’s face. I just told her a few minutes ago that Dylan and I made out. This isn’t all Dylan’s fault. But she’s too nice to point it out right now.

My shoulders slump. “I’m a bad person.”

Katie hooks her arm through mine and leads me down the hall. “What I mean is…let’s face it, it’s Dylan. The cockiest guy we know. You’re choosing Marcus over him.
That’s
why he’s so mad.” She squeezes my arm. “I don’t think you’re a bad person, but if you think so, then fix it. Make things right.”

* * * *

That night I call Dylan and, luckily, get his voicemail.

“Hey, Dylan, it’s Lucy.” I pause for a moment, but then remember this is voicemail. I don’t want to be cut off. “First, I want to apologize. I shouldn’t have slapped you. What happened at Jude’s…it was my fault, too, so I’m sorry.” I cross and uncross my legs. Finally, I shift, pull my feet onto my bed and pick at the already-chipped dark blue nail polish on my toes. “Um, next, I’m not sure if you got my other message, but it would be best for you to skip your visits with Ethan and Brandi on Saturdays for a while. I’m sorry. I know how hard it is for you to see them when Alana’s around, but this is best for now.” I re-read the piece of paper on my bed and write a check mark next to the first two items. “And, I’d love to skip going to Jude’s house on Sunday, but you know I can’t. So…I need you to stay away for a while. Jude’s totally going to freak, but I’ll deal with him. I’ll check to see if he wants you to train on another day.”

I check that item off my list, and suddenly, I’m unsure how to end the call. Dylan’s one of my best friends. My throat constricts at the thought of losing him. I blink rapidly before the tears come.

“No one knows you like I do, Dylan,” I whisper. “You’re an amazing person. Ethan and Brandi are really lucky to have you. I’m going to miss you.”

I click end on my phone and flop back on my bed. I close my eyes and inhale—four counts in—and exhale—four counts out. I repeat this several times. It works to keep the crying fits away. The call to Marcus is going to be so much worse.

After a few minutes, I climb off my bed and grab the glass of water from my desk. I down the whole thing, then grab my phone and hit contact number three.

I’m not sure which scares me more, Marcus answering the phone or getting his voicemail. I get his voicemail.

“Marcus, it’s Lucy again.”

I explain how I told Dylan to stay away from me. “I’m not taking him up on his offer to carpool to school, either, although Katie’s upset about that.”

Trying to insert something light into the message sounds dumb. I go for honesty.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I have no excuse for what I did. I’m begging you to forgive me. Maybe I don’t deserve it, but I’m asking anyway…because I can’t imagine my life without you. It wasn’t much before I met you. Even though it’s a big hot mess right now, having you in it makes it special. For the first time since Gram died, I look forward to my future…because you’re in it.” Even though that future is iffy.

I press end and climb under the covers. Sliding my hand under my pillow, I curl my fingers around a delicate feather. Marcus’s feather. The one I’ve kept in the medicine cabinet for months. Over the past few days, I’ve needed a piece of him near me. But it won’t mean much if Garret kills Jude. I need to fix things with Marcus before it’s too late.

* * * *

A vibrating noise pulls me from sleep. My hand flops around my bedside table until it connects with my phone. With one squinty eye, I focus on the readout and bolt upright.

“Marcus?”

“You forgot to tell me you love me.” His voice sounds sad, far away.

I stare off into the dark space of my bedroom, the cobwebs of sleep slipping away. “What?”

“In your message. You forgot to tell me you love me.”

I squeeze my eyes tight as I try to recall the message I left on his phone. “How’s that possible? I feel like I’m always saying it.” I stop myself. “I love you, Marcus. More than anyone can love another person.”