LUCA
“You're grieving." Conrad said.
That was the first thing out of his mouth the moment we were out of earshot of anyone else. No hesitation. No warming up to the subject. Just straight for the jugular.
I didn’t look at him. I kept walking.
He matched my pace. "You're angry at yourself for what happened to Saraphina."
I stopped. My jaw clenched. My fists did too.
"I didn’t ask you to psychoanalyze me," I said, turning to face him.
Conrad didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. Just crossed his arms like we were in one of those therapy roleplays they made us do in freshman orientation.
"You two were broken up," he said.
"Stop it, Conrad."
But he didn’t. Of course he didn’t. Because Conrad never knew when to shut up. Because he thought digging into things made them better. That if you
