“Not stupid—”

“—to know my own feelings.” I’m too loud. I don’t care. “You will never stop seeing me as a little girl who wants you because of some misplaced daddy issues. Guess what, Conor? I’m not yours to set free! I am free, and I have chosen you freely over and over again. But you hate yourself too much to allow that. Deep down, you don’t believe that you are worthy of love, and you are so terrified of having me and hurting me, that you would rather spend the rest of your life giving me things I never asked for just, just to keep me at a distance. I don’t need you to make me come five times. I don’t need you to build my furniture. I don’t need you to vet all the physicists-turned-quants at Harkness, find the one that’s safest and most eligible, and send him my way. I don’t need fucking grand gestures, and I don’t need you to manage me like I’m one of your assets, Conor. I just need you to…” The stream of my tears smears the lamplight around him, like a halo. I’m stripping back my skin for him, showing the raw, mangy parts of me, and he…

He just looks at me, his face mostly shadows. His expression is impossible to make out.

“All I ever wanted was to love you and make you happy. All I ever asked was for you to try to do the same. I was willing to be patient, and kind, and figure it all out together. But you…” I shake my head, wipe my cheeks with my forearms, and leave.

I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear the sound of something shattering into a thousand pieces.

Chapter 37

Jade: I saw the news! Has the lava phagocytized you within its toasty embrace yet?

Maya: I wish.

The knocks at the door hit my ears like gunshots.

The room is dark, but the bluish tinge coating the walls tells me that it’s no longer the middle of the night. At some not-so-distant point, all my turning and tossing must have contorted into a restless sleep.

My phone says 5:13, and when I open the door I find my brother. He wears the same impatient expression I remember from my early teens, when I took too long to pick my breakfast in the cereal aisle.

“You okay?” he asks. My eyes burn with exhaustion and too many tears. They must be bloodshot, because Eli frowns. “Hangover?”

“Yeah.” Sure.

“Power through it. I need you.”

“Now? It’s five in the—Shit, is Tiny okay?”

“Yes.”

“Is someone sick? Wait—are you okay?”

“Yes. I just need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“Maya.” He leans forward, both hands warm on my shoulder, and gives me another well-known look. Just do as I say. “Put something on and come to the first floor. You have five minutes.”

I end up needing seven, set back by the teeth brushing. When I walk downstairs, dawn has yet to break, but no one has bothered to turn on the light in the foyer. My brother is there, Rue on one side, Tiny on the other. Across from them, Conor.