I blow out a breath and try to shove it all out, but remnants linger. Every moment of silence, my mind fills with flashes of his betrayal. The sour of his love. Sadness pangs through me at what I thought we had. Who I thought he was. My sadness burns into anger. I blink hard. Out, out. Get out of my head. This is why I don’t let people in my space. Once they’re in there, it’s hard to get them out. Jhamal is the last thing I should be thinking about right now. And yet my mind is tethered to him. Love does that. I hate it.

“Rue?” Julius says, a silhouette between the branches. Which is ironically fitting. He’s always been there, a phone call away, just out of earshot. I breathe his name and he’s there. Always.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey.” He tugs on my arm, turning me to him. Then he takes the empty potion vial from my fingers, turning it in his hands. “Fam…” His fingers graze for mine and I hook into them, to hold on tight to something I know won’t leave me. My eyes sting and I hold my chin up. I won’t cry. I won’t. I inhale, holding it. Holding myself in one piece.

“We can talk about it.” Julius presses me into his chest and I break, like a dam. “I’m sorry.” His whispers warm my ear and I cry harder.

My chest aches and my knees are weak. I thought Jhamal rode for me. I thought he loved me the way I loved him. That’s the most fucked-up part, assuming someone cares for you the same way you care for them. I slide down to the ground, hugging my knees.

Julius crouches too, arms roped around me. My head finds that nook, my nook, between his jaw and chest. He holds me in silence for a long minute. I savor the way he gives me space to process while being tangled around me, holding me up but not barging in. He smooths tears from my cheek, shaking his head.

When I’m ready, I sit up a bit in his grasp and I tell him. Everything. About the Seer’s words of warning and my time in the cell with Jhamal. He scowls at the mention of kisses and how he played me, doting on my wounds.

“Did he ever touch you?”

“No. Not like that.”

That relaxes him some. But at every mention of Jhamal, a vein in his jaw pulses. When I finish, his nostrils are flared and he’s doing that thing he does when he’s pissed off. “I wanna see this Jhamal dude one more time. I just wanna talk.”

I shove his shoulder playfully. He knows that’s not what I need from him. But his expression doesn’t change.