“I’m a simple guy, what can I say?” He takes a hearty swig, draining it completely before turning to fill it again.

“So seriously, you didn’t know about the book?” I follow behind, watching as he heads for an old brown couch where he promptly plops himself down.

“To be honest, pretty much everything you’ve said since I ran into you has been a mystery. None of it makes any sense. Normally, I’d just give you the benefit of the doubt and blame the meds, but I seem to remember you talking crazy long before it resulted in that.”

I frown, dropping onto the chair just opposite him and propping my feet up on an elaborately carved antique door he uses as a coffee table. “I’m—I wish I could explain it—I feel like I owe you that much. But I can’t. It’s—it’s too complicated. Stuff that involves—”

“Roman and Damen?”

I squint, wondering why he just said that.

“Just a guess.” He shrugs. “But from the look on your face, a successful one.”

I press my lips together and gaze around the room, taking in tall stacks of books, an old stereo, some interesting art, but no TV. Neither confirming nor denying his statement when I say, “I have these powers. Stuff that goes way beyond the psychic stuff you already know about. I can make things move—”

“Telekinesis.” He nods, eyes closed now.

“I can make things appear.”

“Manifestation—but in your case—instant.” He opens one eye to peer at me. “Which makes me wonder—why the book? You’ve got the world at your feet. You’re beautiful, smart, blessed with all kinds of powers at your disposal, and I’m betting your boyfriend’s hiding some gifts of his own . . .”

I look at him. That’s the third time he’s mentioned him, and it bugs me just as much as it did the first time around. “What’s your deal with Damen?” I ask, wondering if he’s on to us, if he somehow senses something about the long and convoluted past the three of us share.

He shifts, swinging his legs up onto the cushions and propping his head against a pillow. “What can I say? I don’t like him. There’s just—something about him. Can’t really put my finger on it.” Turning his head to look at me when he adds, “That wasn’t a pun, and you did ask. And if there’s anything else you wanna know, now’s your chance. These meds are kicking in big time, starting an unbelievable buzz, so you might want to catch me before I fade out, while I’m still able and willing to talk fast and loose.”

I shake my head, having already gotten all the answers I needed when I nicked him on the sidewalk a few hours before. But now, maybe it’s time I share a few truths of my own—or at least lead him toward the truth and see if he drinks.

“You know, there’s a reason why you and Damen don’t care for each other—” I venture, biting down on my lip, not yet decided just how far I’ll take it.

“Ah—so it’s mutual.” His gaze meets mine, holding it for so long, I’m the first to break away. Studying the threadworn rug at my feet, the scarred wood table before me, the large citrine geode propped up in the corner, wondering why on earth I started this, and just about to speak when he says, “No worries.” He struggles to kick the blanket over his feet but doesn’t quite make it. “No need to explain, no need to—worry. It’s just your everyday, garden-variety guy thing. You know, the kind of primal competition that takes place whenever there’s one absolutely amazing girl and two guys who desperately want her. And since only one of us can win—excuse me—since only one of us has won—I’ll just wander back to my cave, bang my club against the wall a few times, and lick my wounds where no one can see.” He closes his eyes, voice lowered when he adds, “Trust me, Ever, I know when to cry uncle. I know when to bow out, so don’t you worry. There’s a reason I’m named after the patron saint of lost causes—I’ve done it many times before, and . . . I . . . ”

His words fade as his chin sinks to his chest, so I get up from my chair and move toward him, grabbing the plush, tangled throw at his feet and carefully arranging it so it covers him completely. “Get some sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll fill your prescription tomorrow, so no worries there. You just stay here and rest.” Knowing he’s drifting off, moving on to some other place, but wanting to assure him nonetheless.

Tucking the blanket under his feet when he says, “Hey, Ever—you never answered—about the book. Why’d you want that book when you already have everything you could ever possibly want?”

I freeze, gazing upon the guy I’ve known for so many centuries, so many lives, who’s managed to show up yet again. Knowing there must be a reason, that from everything I’ve seen and experienced so far, the universe isn’t nearly as random as it seems. But the thing is, I don’t know the reason. In fact, I don’t know much of anything anymore. All I know is they couldn’t be more different. Jude’s calming presence is the exact opposite of Damen’s sultry mix of tingle and heat. Like the yang to his yin. Opposites to the purest degree.

I finish tucking him in, waiting until he’s drifted off again before I head for the door, saying, “Because I don’t have everything I want. Not even close.”

seven

“I knew there was something up with you guys all along. Especially you.” She points at Damen. “Sorry, but no one’s that perfect.”