Rian watches me. The whole ride, he’s staring at me, like if he looks at me long enough, I’ll open up and spill all my secrets and make everything okay. Which won’t ever happen.
I stare out the window, but there’s nothing to see except a reflection of myself with Rian lurking in the background. I glance at him, again and again, and his eyes never seem to leave me. There’s a strange longing in his look, a haunted hunger. Maybe a hint of guilt.
Good. Let the fucker feel guilty. I hope I dredged up a lot of bad memories for him. When he stepped back into my life, he tore up more than I’d like to admit, and now I feel unmoored, lost in a storm of the past and the emotions I thought I’d left behind.
Like the parties thrown by a kid named Finbar with parents who liked to leave him home alone for long stretches. Megan was a goddess those nights, laughing loudly, playing beer pong, the life of the party. I remember wondering how a girl like that, with so many friends, so many admirers, and so many guys crushing on her, could possibly be close with a quiet loner like me. Where Megan did keg stands and rap battled the guys, I lingered near the wall and watched with a cup of foamy beer. She was outgoing and gorgeous. I was quiet and mousy. I got good grades. She did just fine. She was everything to me, the acceptance I desperately needed, even though she never really needed me back in the same way. That made our friendship so much better. She chose me anyway.
Now Rian’s eyes make me think of everything I miss. The late nights spent laughing over boys, the parties, the secrets, the heartbreaks, and the victories. All of that gone, squandered. Megan’s life ended too soon, and when her world was stolen away, a piece of my soul went with her. I’ve never recovered, and I’m not sure I ever will.
“We can make this work.” The train whistle blasts as we roll into the city and Rian’s sitting on the seat next to me. He’s still damp, though drying, and his leg is inches away from my knee. He brushes his hair back, and he’s not smiling now, only staring ahead at the far door. The conductor came by ten minutes ago for tickets, and I let Rian pay for both of us.
“Go back to your seat.”
“You think this is pleasant for me?”
“You’re the one that volunteered. If you don’t like it, go do something else. Save us both the trouble.”
He grunts once and shakes his head. “Can’t do it, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Just saying, you need a guard, and I’m the best man for it. Your father trusts me.”
“And why the hell would he do that?” I turn to him, fuming. “And since when did you join the clans? You used to say they were a bunch of bullshit. You said they were full of macho assholes with tiny balls and no brains.”
He nods to himself. “That’s true, I did say that.”
“And now here you are, tatted up and looking like just another clan thug. So what gives, Rian? Why the hell are you here?”
“I got my reasons.” His jaw works, and I wonder if I’ve hit on a pain point for him. I know he grew up poor, like a lot of people in Delco, but even worse than most. His dad died young, killed in clan violence, leaving his single mom to raise him. Except his single mom was a depressed alcoholic that couldn’t hold down a job. I used to feel bad for him, but I don’t anymore.
“Take those reasons somewhere else, then.”
“I can’t do that.” He reaches up and grips the back of the seat in front of us. His fingers turn white. “I don’t know what your father told you, but there’s a war out there right now, and you’re the daughter of the chief. That means you’re a fucking target.”
“He mentioned something about that,” I say, tugging at a strand of hair. Dad didn’t mention a war exactly—he just said there was trouble brewing.
“Since you’ve always been difficult, someone’s got to make sure you don’t get murdered in the street while this is ongoing. Lucky you, I happened to excel at certain skills that make me a very valuable bodyguard.”
I roll my eyes. “Like what? Jumping in front of bullets? Please, feel free to get shot in the face for me.”
His grip relaxes somewhat and his smile returns. “I get it, princess. I really do. You’re not happy to see me, and I’m not happy to see you, either, despite what you may think. But we’re doing this, whether you like it or not, and if you want to survive the coming weeks and months, you’d better fall in line. Your cousin Ward was just the first of many deaths I suspect are on the way.”