Khloë stepped closer. “Want to know what I think?”
“No. I want you to answer the phone like you’re paid to do.”
Khloë waved a dismissive hand at the chiming phone. “I think the reason you’re not riled by him holding back something so important is that deep inside – maybe so deep you don’t even sense it – you’re not taking this relationship seriously, because you’re expecting him to leave you. Not because you don’t trust him or because you’re insecure. But because you’re used to people coming and going.”
“I don’t think he’ll leave.” Harper truly didn’t.
“But what we think and what we feel deep inside – not always the same. Life has conditioned you to believe that people don’t stick around. It’s sort of emotionally reflexive for you to subconsciously expect them to leave at some point.”
Devon and Raini nodded, as if it made perfect sense.
Harper snorted. “That’s just a load of psychological bullshit.”
Khloë straightened, affronted. “Well that’s not very nice.”
“Answer the damn phone.”
With an exasperated sigh, Khloë headed to the reception desk.
“Khloë has a point,” said Raini. “You do automatically assume everyone you meet will be a fleeting presence in your life. It makes you hold back from people.”
“I don’t hold back from Knox. Hell, I moved into his goddamn house.”
“Yes, but let’s be fair, moving into a new house is something you’ve done a million times throughout your life,” Raini pointed out. “On an emotional level, it’s not a huge thing for you. It doesn’t scream ‘permanence’ to someone with a past like yours. Be honest, did it feel huge?”
“No,” Harper confessed. “But I took him as my mate; that’s huge.”
“Sure it is. And it tells me that you really care about him. But if you – a person who doesn’t take bullshit from anyone – aren’t seriously hurt and pissed that your mate is holding back something so significant, it’s because you’re not expecting this to last. In your head, you’re still in a ‘we’ll see how it goes’ phase. You haven’t quite accepted that it’s permanent yet.”
“Psychological bullshit,” Harper repeated.
Devon patted her hand. “We’re not trying to needle you, we just want you to be aware of this, so you can deal with it in your head.”
The sound of the door opening was quickly followed by Khloë’s voice. “Sorry, kid, you’re too young.”
“I’m not here for a tattoo. I want to talk to her.”
Harper had only heard that voice once before, but she easily recognized it. Pivoting on the spot, she forced a smile for the teenager who also happened to be her half-brother. He was casting nervous glances at the other three she-demons, who were all staring at him. They obviously also recognized him. “If you’re looking for Knox…”
Kellen gave a fast shake of the head. “No, I…Can we talk in private?”
Harper faked nonchalance. “Is there a problem?”
“Maybe.” His eyes held a knowledge that could turn everything to shit.
Great, just fucking great. She gestured at the diner across the street. “Let’s talk over there. I won’t be long,” she told the girls before escorting him out. After informing Tanner – whose eyes sharpened at the sight of Kellen – that she’d be in the diner, she hurried over there. Only once the waitress had poured them each a coffee did Harper ask, “So…want to tell me what this is about?”
“I know who you are.” His expression was mutinous, daring her to deny the truth. What she didn’t know was just how much of the truth he knew.
She ripped open two packets of sugar, sprinkled the contents into her coffee, and stirred it with a spoon. “And who would that be?”
He didn’t appear to like her aloof act at all. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid and delusional.”
She sighed at the determined glint in his eyes – he wasn’t going to let this go. “It’s Kellen, right? Kellen, there are some stories that are best not to hear.”
His eyes flashed demon for a brief moment. “You’re my sister. Don’t say you’re not.” He made a visible effort to calm himself. “I won’t tell anyone, I just want to know.”
“I’m your sister,” Harper acknowledged. She blew over the rim of her cup before taking a sip. “Carla won’t like you talking to me.”
“She doesn’t know.” He lifted his own cup. “She has a picture of you.”
Okay, well that almost caused Harper to spit her coffee all over the table. “A picture?” she asked disbelievingly.
“I found it in a box she keeps hidden in her closet.”
Harper smiled. “Let me guess…she keeps a stash of cash there.”
His cheeks reddened. “I just needed enough to—”
“I grew up with imps, I can’t judge.”
“In the photo, you’re in a graduation outfit.”
Carla was at her graduation? No fucking way.
“It’s not a close-up shot, you’re laughing with someone, but I know it was you.”
“Why would that make you think I’m your sister?”
“It didn’t. Sometimes, I know things when I touch stuff.” He frowned, looking a lot like his father in that moment. “It doesn’t always happen. And sometimes, it’s not very clear. But when I held the picture, I knew you were her kid, I knew she gave you up, and I knew she was scared of you.”