Chapters (50)
- Cover
- Roc Books by Jacqueline Carey
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-one
- Twenty-two
- Twenty-three
- Twenty-four
- Twenty-five
- Twenty-six
- Twenty-seven
- Twenty-eight
- Twenty-nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-one
- Thirty-two
- Thirty-three
- Thirty-four
- Thirty-five
- Thirty-six
- Thirty-seven
- Thirty-eight
- Thirty-nine
- Forty
- Forty-one
- Forty-two
- Forty-three
- Forty-four
- Forty-five
- Forty-six
- Forty-seven
- Forty-eight
Maybe if Sinclair was completely honest with himself, deep down, it wasn’t the yearning for brightness in me that drew him, but the inherent promise of darkness. Maybe without knowing it he was seeking balance for his absent twin, his missing dark half.
Or maybe not. He hadn’t fought for our relationship. Hell, he hadn’t even put up much of an argument.
In the end, it didn’t matter which was true. I made my decision.
Then I cried for a while.
Nineteen
Since I had to work at eight, I showed up on Sinclair’s doorstep at seven thirty the next morning.
He answered the door bleary-eyed and blinking, his dreads looking frowsy. However, he was also wearing nothing but a pair of plaid boxer shorts, which was almost enough to make me change my mind. “Daisy?”
“Okay, here’s the thing,” I said without preamble. “When I say I want us to stay friends, which I’m about to do, I don’t just mean I want us to be civil to each other. I mean I want to stay friends. I want to be able to call you because I heard a good joke or I had a lousy day, and I want you to feel the same way. I want to get to know you better. I want to eat popcorn and make fun of bad movies with you. I want you in my Scooby Gang.”
“Your what?” Sinclair stared at me in bewilderment. “Wait, hang on. Are you breaking up with me?”
“Well, since we never actually defined our relationship, I don’t know if you can call it breaking up, but . . . yeah.” I winced. “Sorry. I’ve never done this before, and I kind of suck at it, don’t I?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “And I’m half asleep. Is it because of my sister?”
“Yes and no,” I said. “Ultimately, no.”
Dropping his hands, Sinclair regarded me. “And yet you’re doing exactly what Emmy told you to do.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Sinclair, listen. If Emmy hadn’t blown things up, I think we could have had a lot of fun together, and I wish we’d had that chance. But you’re not just some nice, uncomplicated guy with a great smile. And I’m . . . me. In the long run, I don’t think we’re the right kind of complicated for each other. Do you?”
“No,” he admitted after a long moment. “But I was happy to give the short run a try, Daisy.”
“Yeah, me, too,” I said ruefully. “But after yesterday, I think right now we can do each other a lot more good as friends. Are you okay with that?”
“Do I have a choice?” Sinclair asked.
I shook my head. “Not really.”