The footsteps are soft enough that I don’t hear them until he’s already at the bottom of the stairs.
Jace.
My first thought is that I’ve never actually seen him angry before. Not like this. I’ve seen him annoyed, sulky, petulant in that particular way he had when things didn’t go his way, but this is different. His jaw is set and his eyes are doing something I don’t recognize and he’s walking toward me with a kind of focused quiet that makes something in my chest pull tight.
“Really.” He stops a few feet away, looking me over slowly. “Tyler Benson.”
“Jace—”
“After everything.” He laughs, short and ugly. “Six months I was with you. Six months of you being cold and untouchable and acting like letting me hold your hand was some kind of privilege, and then I come here tonight and watch yo
