Tangled

50 Ava: The Grey Girl

“Good morning,” Clayton says with a smile, and I step back to let him into the apartment. He pauses for just a moment when he sees Selene, and I wait for the questions–but he doesn’t ask any.

He’s polite like that.

Honestly, outside of my paranoia and not wanting to rely on him, he seems like a pretty great guy.

Clayton strides into the kitchen like he owns it–which, I mean, he does–while I stand around feeling awkward and out of place in this fancy apartment. He seems so at home here, like he belongs.

“Everything okay with the phone?” he calls out from the kitchen. “You didn’t text me this morning.”

“Oh, uh, no issues,” I reply, glancing down at the sleek new device on the end table. “I just woke up a little while ago and haven’t set it up yet.” S~ᴇaʀᴄh the (ꜰind)ɴʘvel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

There’s a brief pause, and then the sound of a pot clattering onto the stove. “Have you eaten?”

I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “No,

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50 Ava: The Grey Girl

not yet.”

“Well, go relax then. I’ll whip up some breakfast.”

Before I can protest, he emerges from the kitchen, those intense green eyes fixing me with a look that brooks no argument. Grasping my shoulders, he turns me towards the plush couch and gives me a gentle nudge in that direction.

“Go on, I’ve got this.”

I open my mouth to argue, but one glance at his resolute expression has me snapping it shut again. Instead, I just nod and make my way over to the couch, sinking into the soft cushions with a sigh.

Selene, ever my loyal companion, leans against me as she focuses on her show, resting her head on my lap. I absently run my fingers through her soft fur, trying to ignore the sounds of Clayton puttering around in the kitchen.

1

me. I’m so used to being the one doing all the work,

But at the

The Grey

care of, instead of being the one doing all the taking care. It’s just breakfast, but he just came in and took over,

who thinks he’s

head, trying to dislodge those thoughts. I can’t afford to get too comfortable here, too used to having

has my ears perking up–Selene’s, too–and the

care of

not a sin to get a little comfortable, right? Since I can’t

***

with Clayton is comfortable.

touch me. No more kisses on the forehead. He’s just

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38

The Grey Girl

taken care of.

she’s zoned into her show instead of watching his every move. Of course, she doesn’t have anything against Clayton in the first place. She

remarks she throws in

about him, I focus on my cup of

of o

giving my drink a

like coffee without a lot of flavor

rings. I try to settle into my role as a

at it, letting the sugary taste linger

through my ears.

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Ava: The Grey

out, even with the

Blackwood

my mug a little tighter, the warmth seeping

demands, but they’re

as the implications of his words

sink in.

Is a war coming after all?

to be at the center of it

liquid spills

girl.