Chapter Twenty
A iden leaned against the check-in counter, glancing around the newly renovated Sheraton hotel.
Reclaimed wood and gray tile softened Bourbon Street’s black-iron terraces and eternally damp sidewalks, providing a well-needed cushion between shouty bars and blaring trumpets.
New Orleans was fnflinching, heady, and completely, unapologetically aware of itself, and Aiden thought he might like to live there, too.
Beside him, Shay handed the clerk his driver’s license.
The clerk gasped. “You’re. . . Shay Bennet, like, like from?—”
“Yeah,” Shay said, nodding tightly. “That’s me.”
They turned their attention to Aiden. “And you’re. . . ?”
“Aiden Moore,” Aiden rasped, and winked. “There’s a pool here, right?”
“I follow you on Instagram,” the clerk blurted.
Their blush worsened. “Sorry—yes, yeah, there’s a pool in the courtyard.
Room service is available night and day.
Feel free to explore the hotel, but please be mindful of meeting spaces and convention attendees.
We’re hosting the annual Metaphysical Assembly this year, so you’ll notice a few signature cocktails on the bar menu and…
There was something else, oh! We’re offering two specialty services in the spa: reiki massages and crystal sound baths. ”
No fucking way. A small laugh crackled in Aiden’s throat. He lifted his brows at Shay. “You’re kidding,” he said. “We can’t escape this shit, can we?”
Shay arched a brow. “What, you don’t want a reiki massage?”
“Do they come with a happy ending?” Aiden asked. “Sign me up.”
The clerk typed rapidly. “Did you have a time in mind?”
“Ignore him,” Shay said, and hip-checked Aiden away from the counter. “Thanks, though. Our room. . . ?”
“Oh, right. You’re in a two-bedroom suite with a shared bathroom.
One king, two queens. Elevators are to your left,” they said, and handed Shay his driver’s license, two room keys, and a receipt.
“Check-out is at eleven, but you can request late check-out any time before ten p.m. the night before your departure. If there’s…
like, anything I can do for you just ring the desk.
I’m…” They paused, muffling a nervous laugh. “I’m a huge fan.”
“Thank you,” Shay said. He looped his fingers around Aiden’s knuckles and tugged him toward the elevator. “So, a witch assembly, huh? Lucky us.”
“My life is, literally, a practical joke,” Aiden mumbled.
Shay squeezed his hand, and the comfortable weight of their clutched palms did two things: One, caused Aiden’s heart to swell.
Two, made him childishly paranoid. He stole a glance at the outdoor staircase, leading to the rooftop bar where Georgia, Pru, and Dylan waited.
“We should text everyone, huh?” he asked, an excuse to unlace their hands and retrieve his phone.
Shay rolled his eyes and hit the silver call-button outside the elevator. “How long do you expect me to keep pretending we’re not…” His mouth squirmed. “A thing,” he decided. “They’ll find out sooner or later, Aiden. We can’t keep?— ”
“I don’t think you understand the unholy amount of shit they’ll give me,” Aiden said. His face went hot, embarrassment writhing like a trapped animal inside him. He knew how it sounded, but still . “Like, seriously, ridiculously unholy .”
“So, you’re ashamed. That’s it?”
“ No . You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make me the bad guy.”
“Do you hear yourself when you talk? You literally are the bad guy, Aiden. I have the scar to prove it.”
Aiden squared his shoulders. “Look. . . Fine. Okay, that’s fair, but I. . . I had rules?—”
“ Had ,” Shay said, matter-of-factly. He pinched Aiden’s chin, steering his face upward. “Stop being a huge baby about this. We’re together, aren’t we?” Shay touched his lips to Aiden’s mouth. “It’s me and you, right ? ”
“Yeah, I have the scar to prove it,” Aiden said, not unkindly, and sighed. “If we tell Georgia and Dylan, we’ll have to tell Jacob. Every second we spend alone will be scrutinized. You get that, right? I mean, can you imagine what they’ll say? I can. I definitely can.”
“Since when have you cared about what anyone has to say? About anything? ” Shay pecked him on the lips. “Relax, okay? Your pride can take the hit.”
“This isn’t about my pride.”
“This is entirely about your pride.”
The bell dinged. Smooth silver doors floated open.
Aiden smelled her before he saw her. Gardenia and lavender wafted from inside the elevator, pressed to pulse points and spray-tanned skin. A nervous yip sounded, and stilettos click-clacked the reflective floor.
Kelly Angelica Crawford held her Pomeranian under one arm, dressed in a beachy, tasseled sarong and awful beige pumps.
She ripped her sunglasses away, slender knuckles stacked with faceted amethyst and dazzling quartz.
Her lips thinned. “You went to Colorado,” she said, just like that.
Her lashes flicked, eyes lingering a little too long on the bandage beneath Aiden’s rosary.
“If you’re here, that means. . . Good goddess, you went . ”
Shay stepped into the elevator. “Nice to see you again, Kelly.”
“I doubt that, Shay Bennett.” She peeked over his shoulder. “May I?—”
“No.” Shay smacked the top button. The doors shut, effectively trapping the trio. “Of course, we went to Colorado. Why wouldn’t we?”
Ah , her smile said, sitting half-way between fear and confidence, I see. She slid her gaze to Aiden and clucked her tongue. “Still keeping secrets, Aiden Moore?”
Aiden gritted his teeth. Rage and panic coated his throat like molasses.
Shay went rigid—mouth, shoulders, fists. He shot Aiden a furious glance, but turned his anger on Kelly, snapping his teeth at her. “I asked you .”
Kelly flinched, sealing her back to the wall.
“There’s cameras—don’t be foolish.” She flicked her gaze from Shay to Aiden, hugging her dog to her chest. She inhaled a quick, reluctant breath, and shook her head.
“You remember the client who interrupted our session? Young thing. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. Not quite gifted but intriguing regardless. We got to talkin’ about her mentor—power hungry, that woman.
Self-proclaimed demonologist, convicted felon, surrounded herself with lost children.
I’d seen her kind before. Always rotten to the core.
But I saw you, too. Saw her choices, your choices, where they intersected.
” She stared at Shay, lips twitching into a frown.
“Like I told your boyfriend, death follows you.”
“What, exactly, did you see?” Shay asked.
“A lot. Circumstances changing. You,” Kelly said, smugly. “ Dyin’ out there in that desert. And you,” she nodded at Aiden, “leapin’ off a rooftop. Role reversal, if you will.”
Aiden tried to swallow and almost choked. “What?’
“I also saw your sister,” Kelly said, eyes still fixed on Aiden. “That call was to protect her , too.”
He heard the memory. Laura, hitting concrete. Cheekbone, diving inward. Elbow, snapping skyward. Then he saw his sister, tense and cold and beautiful and far, far away from his bullshit. “Is Cami?—”
“Yes, you idiot. It’s the Metaphysical Assembly . Of course she’s coming. Didn’t she tell you?” Kelly asked, exasperated.
Aiden almost shook his head, be he remembered their Mama’s birthday, standing in Camila’s bedroom, kissing her hair, the word conference uttered like an inconvenience.
“Well, we’re still alive, and doin’ just fine last I checked,” Shay said. He scratched behind the dog’s ear. Kelly flinched, breath halting as the elevator rocked to a stop. Carefully, Shay gripped her wrist between gold bangles. “So, you must be off your game.”
“The future is never certain. You might’ve changed your stars, but death imprinted on you.
Don’t look at me like that, Shay. Go on, ask him,” she challenged.
Her eyes welled and she tore her arm away.
“You rejected your fate. You came back with a purpose. Unfinished business. But that. . . that poor girl? She’s hollow.
Stripped to nothing and imbued with whatever future you two pushed off on her.
One she was never meant to have. Now, if you’ll excuse me.
. .” She side-stepped Shay and gave Aiden a callous once over.
“You have my number. Make a fucking appointment next time,” she said, and walked away.
Aiden stood in the hall, blocking the elevator door from closing.
Panic spread into his mouth, buzzed in his knuckles, cemented in his kneecaps.
He wanted to rewind the day. Step backward in time and hit pause .
Stitch themselves into Austin and relive those moments.
Watching candlelight chase shadows across Shay’s face.
Eating fancy, vegan comfort food with Georgia and Dylan on East 6 th Street.
Breathing hard with Shay inside him—on the floor, in the shower, propped against the window.
Getting paid. Falling asleep with Shay, waking up with Shay. Being at ease, for once.
Okay . He followed Shay to their suite. Say it all. Tell him everything.
Shay walked into the room, sent his suitcase skidding across the floor, and turned, shoving Aiden hard against the door. The lock clicked . Aiden made a winded, wounded noise, shielding his sore ribs.
“Talk,” Shay snapped, baring his fangs. “Now.”
The violence shocked him. Shay , he thought, you’re hurting me . But he stayed quiet, gripping Shay’s wrist, searching for familiarity on his handsome, chiseled face. “Te amo,” he whispered, and swallowed hard. “But if you don’t let me go, I’m going to kick you directly in the nuts.”
Shay stepped back and dropped his hand. His throat flexed, brows knitting with concern. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But if you don’t tell me what the hell is going on, I’m leaving.”