As we walked along the rain-drenched sidewalks toward Heights on the Hill, which was what the school was called, I felt a lot like I had with Misha following our argument, but unlike earlier, when I couldn’t figure out why I was being such a coward, I thought I might have figured it out now. And I wanted to apologize. I was mouthy and confrontational on a good day and didn’t back down from a fight, but I absolutely loathed conflict with someone I cared about. The problem was, like with Misha that day, I was still furious and hurt and about a million miles away from being ready to apologize.

But I wasn’t completely to blame.

I could understand, now that I’d had time to dwell obsessively over what had happened, why he hadn’t told me he was meeting Stacey. He’d felt my emotions when Stacey had come over, and he’d seen through my questions about her. He probably wanted to avoid hurting the feelings he sensed in me or avoid them in general. But that didn’t mean he shouldn’t have been honest, same as with Misha. Honesty would’ve sucked in the moment, but would have been far easier to deal with than uncovering a lie designed to cover a hurt. Contrary to what Zayne believed, his lie was nothing like me not telling him about what had appeared to be a random spirit in his apartment.

No one could convince me otherwise.

And the fact that he’d known about what had happened with the coven this entire time? I couldn’t be mad at him for not saying anything, because I had kept that from him, but I didn’t understand why he hadn’t confronted me. Had he really just been waiting for me to tell him?

I doubted he was happy now that I had.

Lightning streaked across the night sky, a jagged arc of light that lit up Zayne’s stoic profile. His hair was pulled back, all except those shorter strands. They were tucked behind his ears.

The one time I would’ve appreciated him being dishonest would’ve been when he’d told me that he’d rather be with a friend than dealing with me.

Than helping me.

That, he could’ve kept to himself.

“You want to say something.” Zayne shattered the silence. “Just say it.”

I jerked my gaze from him, flushing at being caught staring. “I have nothing to say.”

“You sure about that, Trin?”

Trin.

At least we were back to nicknames and not formal names. “Yep.”

He didn’t respond.

“Do you have something you want to say, Zayne?” I didn’t even try to keep the snideness out of my tone.

“Nope.”