Placing the picture on my nightstand, I wiped the back of my hand under my eyes. My cheeks were damp, and I wasn’t sure what or who I was crying for. All I knew was that I’d been crying a lot lately, and I hated that crying made me feel weak.

What in the hell was so weak about it? Like that was the worst thing I could be doing right now. I mean, I could be engaging in self-harm or risky behaviors. I could be shit-faced or high as a kite. Nope. I was weepy, and I had a feeling there were people out there who probably thought going out and picking fights or drinking until they vomited was better than having a good cry.

On second thought, drinking until I didn’t know who I was sounded good right about then. I just . . . I really didn’t want to . . . feel anything. I missed my family. I missed Erin, and as much as I wanted to turn Seth’s nuts into a punching bag, I missed him—the him from before.

God, his words still stung, but I saw the truth behind what was driving them. I’d probably seen it before, but hadn’t wanted to truly acknowledge it.

Plopping onto my back, I stared up at the ceiling. Seth’s sudden change of heart sort of made sense now. He had to have known it was getting close to when Alex would return. There was no way he hadn’t. Not with the kind of bond they had. He had to have known she was coming.

I’d seen the way he’d stared at her yesterday.

And when I left the quad, Seth hadn’t followed. He stayed there with them, with her. That wasn’t jealousy talking. That was just reality.

Even though Alex and Aiden had the kind of love poets rambled on about, there had been something powerful between Seth and Alex. Deacon had said so himself, something practically unbreakable.

I always thought his reluctance to talk about Alex had to do with his guilt, but now, I knew there was more to it. Seth wasn’t over Alex and whatever they shared.

And that sucked.

Because I couldn’t compete with someone who was a legend. Someone Seth had given up eternity for.

I was in love with someone who was still wrapped up in someone else—someone who was a freaking legend among their kind.

A knock on the door drew me out of my thoughts. Sitting up, I swung my legs off the bed and stood. I hoped it was Deacon or Luke or both of them. Deacon would watch Supernatural with me and everything would be right in the world, at least for a few hours, and I wouldn’t feel like I . . . like I was forgotten.

Opening the door, I came face to face with Alex.

Holy crap.