The Devouring Gray(93)

Justin thought he’d faced down his greatest fear when he’d failed his ritual. But the feeling building in his chest now was somehow worse than that. “I don’t get it. Are you angry with me?”

Isaac’s face twisted with anguish. “I’m never angry with you. That’s the problem.” There was something strange in his voice. A tenderness that didn’t match the hurt on his face.

It hit Justin all at once, a heady, unpleasant wave of realization, like cold water dumped over his scalp.

Isaac’s hand closing over his wrist at the barn party. Isaac rising from the ashes of the Diner, not to save himself, but to defend Justin. Isaac’s visible dislike of Harper. That half smile that Isaac always gave him, only him, the one that Justin had never been able to figure out.

Justin had known Isaac was bi. That this was, technically, an option.

“So,” he said hoarsely. “It’s like that.”

Isaac’s hand curled into a fist, but there was no spark, no shimmer, just him. “Yeah. It’s like that.”

“How long has it been like that?”

Isaac’s mouth twitched. “How long do you think?”

Justin’s stomach hollowed out with quiet understanding. “I guess I should’ve seen it.”

He’d just refused to let himself believe it. Because it was impossible for him to feel the same way, and Isaac knew that, too.

“I don’t think you wanted to. And I thought maybe it would go away, and we’d never have to talk about it.” Isaac paused, worked his jaw. “I know you aren’t—I never expected anything. Fuck, I didn’t want to make this weird, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

“It’s not weird.” But the words sounded unconvincing, even to him.

Justin forced himself to meet his friend’s eyes, but the hurt he’d been afraid of wasn’t there. The resignation he saw instead was somehow worse.

It was hopelessly, cruelly unfair.

“You’ve never lied to me before,” Isaac said.

“So it’s a little weird.” Justin’s voice was hoarse with desperation. “But that doesn’t mean we have to be done.”

“Yes, it does.” Isaac bristled with conviction. “You own me, Justin, even if you never realized it. I’ll do whatever you want because your happiness trumps my misery. So we can’t be friends right now. I have to do this for myself. And after everything I’ve done for you, you don’t get to try and stop me.”

Isaac had been there when Justin’s family turned on him. His unflinching loyalty had given Justin the courage to stand up to Augusta, to tell Four Paths the truth.

He needed Isaac—but for the first time, that wasn’t enough to make him stay.

Thinking about how much this would hurt Justin churned his stomach; made him raw with fury. But it would be incredibly selfish to protest further.

Isaac had made up his mind. Justin owed it to him to listen. So he didn’t speak as his best friend walked, each footstep careful and measured, out the door.





The piece of music above the piano was a long way from perfect. Violet had struck through half the handwritten notes. Potential alternate phrasings were scribbled everywhere. Violet played slowly through the piece, pausing to scribble down new notes, new possibilities.

It was scary, beginning to compose. The blank sheet of music had daunted Violet when she first sat down to start, her mind blank. But once she’d pushed past that initial wave of doubt, it had been hard to stop. She would play other pieces, of course. But there was a special thrill that came with creating something new.

The song Violet had written was simple and clunky. She couldn’t get the countermelodies to properly weave together. But maybe one day, she’d be able to write something other people would want to play.

She wasn’t doing it for Rosie. But she knew Rosie would’ve been proud of her, all the same.

Juniper had started opening up. Not just about Four Paths, but about Violet’s father’s side of the family, too. Violet had narrowly avoided bursting into tears when her mother gave her the contact info for her Caulfield cousins. They’d all added each other on social media, but she was still working up the courage to say hello.

A lot of her conversations with her mother had come out wrong, fumbled words and awkward moments. But it was a start. Violet could feel them learning how to pull together, like two knitting needles tangled in a ball of crimson yarn.

Violet’s phone buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. She glanced at it, smiled, and bundled her composition away. Orpheus trailed behind her as she went to get the door.

Justin was waiting for her, hands stuffed in the pockets of his bomber jacket. Fall had come to Four Paths in a sudden rush of orange leaves and chilly air.

“You wanted to see me?” he asked her.

Violet knew he was surprised that she’d invited him alone. But she didn’t want an audience for this.

“I have questions,” she said delicately as he stepped into the foyer.

“Questions?”

“About Harper.”

Suddenly, the light streaming into the sun-soaked foyer was too bright, the air around them oppressively stuffy and warm. Justin’s hand froze on his coat zipper.

“That’s not your story.”

Violet met his eyes. “You’re not a bad person. In fact, all I’ve ever seen you do is advocate for people who probably don’t deserve it. Me included. So what the hell made you give up on Harper Carlisle?”