Into the Fading Twilight (Starlight Grove, #2) (29)

Instead, her gray eyes filled with sorrow. “Kol. I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine.”

“So I know all about reporters. Ones who will do anything for a headline. For their name above the fold.”

Nova did something I never would’ve expected. She moved closer. For a second, I thought she might reach out and take my hand. She didn’t. But she got so close I could feel the heat coming off her body, see the faintest smattering of freckles on her nose.

“I hate that you know how it feels,” she whispered. “That you lived through that.”

I stared down at her in wonder. “Why aren’t you running?”

Her mouth puckered in an adorable little frown. “Why would I run?”

“Because I come from the same kind of monster that nearly killed you.”

Nova didn’t look away from me as she spoke. “You lived with a monster, just like I did. It makes sense why you understand me so well. I hate that that’s why. But I’m also grateful. Because the darkness doesn’t scare you. Because you lived in it, too.”

Hell, she was right. Maybe that was why I felt such a kinship with Nova. Because we could face the darkness the way others couldn’t. “Phoenix,” I whispered.

The sound of her nickname swirled in the air between us. We were so close. My fingers ached to reach out, to skim across her cheek.

The door swung open, and Nova jumped back and away from me.

Wylder filled the doorway, his gaze pinging back and forth between us. “Sorry. I just wanted you to know he’s gone. Got a photo so we can show it to the rest of the staff. Make sure he doesn’t come back. I should’ve gotten his name—”

“Reese Gatlin.” Nova’s voice was stronger now, as if she’d shoved all the hurt and pain down, and her mask was back in place. I hated it.

“I’ll add that to the info we already have,” Wylder said.

Nova nodded. “I gotta get back out there.”

She skirted around Wylder without a backward glance, and I felt some sort of invisible tug as she went, an urge to follow her. But I locked it down. Instead, I pulled out my phone and typed out a text.

Me:

Need you to pull everything you can on a Reese Gatlin. Reporter. Wylder will send you his photo.



It only took a second to get a reply.

Dex:

Are YOU seriously asking me to do something illegal?



I scowled at the screen.

Me:

Are you going to help me or not?



Dex:

On it. This have something to do with Nova?



Me:

Yes.



That was all I could give him. Because if I gave him more, the rage would take hold.

I shoved my phone into my pocket and looked up to find Wylder watching me. “Need you to send Dex that photo of the reporter.”

“I can do that,” he said slowly. “Since when do you activate Dex?”

He had a point. In the secret work we did in the shadows, I steered clear of anything that crossed a black-and-white line. If something strayed into less-than-legal territory, I wasn’t part of it. Because I had more to lose than the rest of my brothers. I had a daughter who counted on me. I was her only parent, and I couldn’t risk being a part of something that could create blowback on me—on her.

“I’m not breaking any laws. I’m just asking Dex to dig a little.”

Wylder arched a brow. “You might not be breaking any laws, but you are bending them.”

Which wasn’t something I did. Ever. But for Nova? It felt like I’d do anything.





CHAPTER TEN


Nova




IFELT MY PHONE BUZZ AS A BIG, FURRY BODY LEANED against me where I sat on the back deck. Yeti was aptly named, and it wasn’t surprising that my best friend had named her dog after Bigfoot. I leaned right back against Yeti’s strong form. She sighed, and I copied the sound.

Sometimes, at least these days, it felt like it was easier to be around animals than humans. And the nature all around us didn’t hurt either. This was the perfect spot to take in the early morning sky painted with colors and the way it made the creek glow. It was almost … perfect.

I forced myself to glance down at my cell as I took a sip of coffee.

KOL:

How’s today?



Maybe the no-human rule wasn’t entirely true. Kol got me. He understood. Even the way he phrased questions felt like less pressure. It wasn’t “How are you feeling?” or “Is everything okay?” He left things more open-ended.

I lifted my phone, snapping a photo of me and the beast of a dog.

Me:

I’ve got a damn good dog, damn good coffee, and a damn good sunrise.



It was past sunrise now, but the sun still hovered low in the sky.

KOL:

Sounds like a damn good day.



Me:

I think it’s going to be. How about you?



A second later, a photo appeared on my device. Skylar grinned back at the camera, flour smeared across her face and her rainbow apron.

KOL:

We’re making chocolate chip waffles.



Me:

I am very jealous.



KOL:

We’ll make you some after you move in.