“What? It’s probably true and you know it.”
“Yes, but it doesn’t need discussing,” she mutters. “I just wish I could ask him. He was so…”
“And she’s a raving bitch,” I finish when she trails off.
“I miss him.”
Reaching for her hand, I squeeze it, hating the way her voice cracks with emotion.
“I know, Cal. Everyone keeps saying that it’ll get better but…”
“Everyone can’t be wrong.”
We let out simultaneous pained sighs before Calli reaches for her coffee and I grab another croissant.
“So…” I start and she groans, guessing what’s coming. “Talk to me about Daemon. All I know is that you’re fucking and you’ve moved in with him without telling me so…”
“I love him, Nico. We’re notjustfucking.”
“Thanks for confirming that you are fucking,” I say around a mouthful of buttery pastry.
“I thought I’d lost both of them. Having him back is… it’s everything.”
“How’s he doing?”
“He’s good. Will be left with a few more scars than before, but he’s going to be fine. Even better when he’s allowed out to go and kill someone.”
I can’t help but laugh at the look of confusion on my sister’s face as she explains what her boyfriend wants to go and do.
“Now that is something I can understand. We’re going to ensure every one of those motherfuckers who hurt us pays, Cal. We won’t let them get away with it.”
“I know. I don’t doubt any of you. I just pray they don’t take any more from us. That we’re ready.”
Unease ripples through me, because after the past couple of weeks, I’m anything but ready. My session in the gym yesterday with Toby only confirmed that.
“We’ll be ready. Those cunts won’t get away with hurting us.”
“We should probably do something productive,” Calli says, grabbing one of the textbooks I left out after my study session with Toby.
“Great. I can’t wait.”
“A few weeks and it’s all done. No more studying or exams,” Calli says, glancing over at me nervously.
“Cal?”
“I-I’m not going to uni, Nic. It’s not right.”
My chin drops, my lips opening and closing like a fish for a few seconds before I finally find some words.
“Okay. If that’s what you want.”
“It is,” she agrees, but despite her words, she barely relaxes.
“What is it?” I ask, searching her eyes for the answer.
“N-nothing. It’s just all this. It’s been… a lot.”
Reaching out, I squeeze her knee in support. “We’ve got this. We’re gonna do Dad proud. Keep his legacy alive and take this world by storm,” I say, although I feel much less confident about that statement than how it sounds.