Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

One

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Steam caressed my face as I stared down into the dark brown liquid. My fingers wrapped around the mug of hot chocolate in a death grip, seeking warmth despite the summer heat still carrying strong. My dark and slightly unruly hair fell over my shoulders as I slumped lower in the seat, a sigh escaping my lips.

The cafe was nearly empty, considering it was almost closing time. Despite how few there were, the stragglers were louder than I’d prefer. A high-pitched laugh assaulted my ears from three tables behind, making me cringe. Giggles accompanied it. I turned slowly in my seat to face them, not so much out of curiosity than the want to tell them to shut up. Fortunately, I had the sense in time to recognize my irritation was completely unwarranted and quickly shut my mouth. After all, I hadn’t exactly left the house in search of peace and quiet.

Marissa, a waitress at the cafe, stood in front of a table full of her friends from school. I knew all the girls since we were in the same year, but I hadn’t spoken to any of them all summer. They were the few people in Mystic Falls who didn’t frequent The Mystic Grill, instead preferring the small atmosphere of The Grotto. Which was the exact reason I decided to spend the rest of my day here. I wasn’t really in the mood to go to the rowdy Grill, hence the reason I sat here alone.

Their voices grew louder. I caught a few snippets of the conversation, something about couples and who had hooked up—Tiki and Kameron—and who broke up—Levi and Alexa—over the summer. I wasn’t particularly interested, having never cared for that topic of gossip. A part of me considered trying to join the conversation regardless. The whole reason I left the house was to try getting back into the swing of things. Unsuccessfully that was, since I was all by my lonesome in a place I rarely thought to frequent.

I had left the house around noon and spent the entire day wandering around town, exploring different places, hoping to feel something, to find inspiration, maybe even socialize. It sounded like a great plan initially, especially since I hadn’t really been around anyone but family all summer. A part of me considered that might be the issue—the reason I couldn’t get out of my rut. Maybe I just needed to distance myself from everything overly familiar and take a break?

Staring out the paneled window, I absentmindedly brushed my finger along the rim of the mug, wishing—not for the first time—to desperately leave the town of Mystic Falls.

Since the car accident in the spring, I’d had this constant feeling of not truly belonging here. My house barely felt like a home now, having lost that warmth with the passing of my mom and dad. Aunt Jenna tried her best to step into a parental role for me and my siblings, but it just wasn’t the same. I certainly didn’t want her to be my parent; I wanted her to remain my fun-loving, opinionated aunt. I couldn’t even imagine how tough it must be for her, trying to keep an eye on a bunch of teenagers, managing college classes and work, all while still grappling with the loss of her older sister.

My brother Jeremy became the most withdrawn out of us. The first time I caught him using drugs, I wasn’t exactly surprised. Weed wasn’t a big enough deal for me to freak out over, though my sister didn’t share the same opinion. Whenever Elena tried talking to him about it, he’d just push her away and begin acting even worse. So, Jenna and Elena decided to give him a “summer pass” before cracking down on his habits. Predictably, as summer now drew to a close, there was no improvement in his behavior. I just let it be, understanding it was the only way he knew how to cope. Maybe it wasn’t the most sisterly thing to do, but at least he was still on speaking terms with me, unlike Elena. I knew he’d get past it in his own time, even if it did take a while.

And my sister, well, I wasn’t quite sure how to describe our relationship. It wasn’t bad or anything; lately, we just hadn’t spent much time together. At times, it felt as though we were becoming strangers, despite being twins. There were plenty of things left unspoken between us, especially over what went down a few months ago, and honestly, I didn’t expect those issues to resurface anytime soon.

Elena’s approach to handling things certainly didn’t help matters—she coped by putting on a front, acting like everything was hunky-dory, while all of the pain just kept bottling up insider her. Sure, she had her journaling as a creative outlet, but it still left her internalizing everything. Even with Jenna taking on guardianship, Elena, as the eldest, felt compelled to carry the weight of the household on her shoulders. Somewhere along the way, this morphed into an attempt to bring back a sense of our old “normalcy” that no longer existed.

I was tired of pretending there was any chance at living the life we used to have with our parents. I wanted to move forward without guilt, making room for any sadness or discomfort when it arose. Unfortunately, my siblings weren’t quite ready for that, and it left me feeling remarkably isolated from them.

A painful yelp left my lips, drawing me out of my thoughts. I held my hand close to my chest, a scorching red burn now adorning the limb. The mug sat toppled on its side, hot chocolate spilling all over the tabletop and staining the napkin I was doodling on. I blinked, slowly coming to realize I accidentally knocked it over during my musings.

“Oh! Let me clean this up for you.”

Marissa stood on the other side of the table, moving to wipe up the mess with a dish towel. “Thanks.”

Marissa looked up, smiling, “You’re welcome!” As she finished cleaning up, her smile slowly turned into a sympathetic one. Marissa met my eyes and I had to force myself not to walk away, knowing exactly what the girl was going to ask. “How have you been, Emery?”

For the millionth time today, I wondered once again why I left the house to begin with. Oh yeah, that was right. I wanted to get back to living.

“Not the greatest,” I smiled ruefully,“but I’m doing okay now.” And it wasn’t a lie. I had been okay the last few weeks. I wasn’t good or great, but I was okay.

Deciding I wasn’t really up for socializing after all, I stood up, signaling my departure before she could give a response to that. Looking at the waitress with a more sincere smile this time, I wished her a good evening.

Marissa waved, flashing another smile in return, this time an excited one. “You too! Oh, and I’ll see you at school tomorrow. First day! I can’t believe summer vacation is over already.”

Thanks for reminding me… Holding in a groan, I walked out into the warm evening air.

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The radio blared loudly, waking me up in an instant. Groggily, I reached my hand out from the covers, blindly searching for the off button. After a few seconds of brushing against the alarm clock, I finally found the button to silence the music. I sat up slowly, the teal comforter folding down to my waist, and began rapidly blinking my blurry eyes to rid the fogginess. Eventually, my gaze made it to the alarm clock, taking in the glowing red numbers, before abruptly flopping back down on the bed and hiding my head under the cool side of the pillow.

Not even a moment later, the door to my bedroom slammed open, jarring the picture frames scattered along the wall and the knickknacks displayed on the shelves. I could hear an exasperated sigh come from the doorway.

“Emery Beth Gilbert,” my twin called out. “If you don’t get up now, you won’t have enough time to get ready before Bonnie picks us up.”

“Nngghhh…” I moaned, rolling over while pulling the covers back up.

There was loud stomping, and then the blankets were tugged off my form, forcing me to twist so I was lying on my back. I stared up at my sister with a tired and irritated expression.

Elena’s hands went directly to her hips. “Don’t give me that look. You are not sleeping in on the first day of school. Now get up.” She then stalked out of the room.

Groaning, I used all my strength to get out of bed lest my sister force me—which she definitely would. Without a second glance at the messed-up blankets and sheets, I grabbed a clean graphic t-shirt and underwear from my dresser and then picked up a pair of jeans lying on the floor by the closet. Letting out a loud, wide mouthed yawn, I rubbed my bleary eyes as I walked to the conjoined bathroom, mumbling incoherently about annoying, early bird sisters.

I took a quick shower, feeling more refreshed and awake to go about the rest of the day. Drying out my hair with a towel, I tossed it into the hamper and proceeded to twist my hair up and use a claw clip to hold it to the back of my head, not caring to brush it out first. A small winged liner and mascara were the only makeup I bothered applying.

Jogging down the stairs after Elena, I walked into the kitchen and was greeted by my Aunt Jenna frantically searching the fridge’s contents.

“Toast. I can make toast,” she said, sounding sure of it. I laughed, leaning against the counter.

Elena, who automatically walked towards the coffee pot, informed her, “It’s all about the coffee, Aunt Jenna.”

“Is there coffee?” Jeremy asked, suddenly appearing in the kitchen. I grinned at him in welcome.

“Mornin’, Jer.” He simply nodded his head to my greeting. I held back a sigh, glad my brother at least acknowledged me. My gaze drifted to the coffee machine, staring in disgust at the black liquid pouring into Elena’s mug. “I’d rather eat breakfast.”

“Maybe if you didn’t take so long to wake up, you’d have enough time to make something,” Elena said with a matter-of-fact tone, turning to look at me pointedly. Jeremy took the chance to steal her mug away. She threw up her hand, rolling her eyes, but decided not to argue and instead poured herself another cup. While she wasn’t looking, I stuck my tongue out at her for the comment, making Jeremy snort in amusement.

“Your first day of school and I am totally unprepared,” Jenna fretted, rummaging through her bag. She handed me a power bar, which I happily accepted, and then passed out some cash to each of us for lunch, though Elena refused to take it. “Anything else? A No. 2 pencil? What am I missing?”

“Relax, Jenna. This is—unfortunately—not the first time we’ve had a first day of school,” I said with an overly dramatic sigh, one that received another look from Elena. “We got it handled.” I knew Jenna was just trying to get the whole “guardian thing” down right, but she really didn’t need to worry so much. We were teenagers, not children.

Elena nodded at the last part. “Em is right. And don’t you have a presentation today?”

“I’m meeting with my thesis advisor at—” The redhead checked her watch, realizing the time. “Now. Crap.”

“Go,” Elena told her reassuringly.

Jenna smiled at her in appreciation, giving us teenagers a wave goodbye, before hastily grabbing her bag and running out the door.

I shook my head in amusement. Typical scatterbrained Jenna, I thought, surprisingly feeling good about today despite yesterday’s mood. I grinned at my siblings, watching Elena chuckle and Jeremy smirk slightly before turning to his coffee with his typical loner expression. My sister looked at him with concern.

“You good?” Elena asked him softly as she reached out for him. I cringed at her bad timing.

Jeremy glared at her with abrupt annoyance, and shrugged her hand away. “Don’t start.” He quickly left out the backdoor.

Elena sighed.

I rolled my eyes at the exchange. Good feeling gone.

I walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch, ripping open the power bar wrapper and tossing it on the coffee table before taking a big bite. The news channel was on, pictures of a man and a woman taking up the entire screen. Apparently, they were found dead last night. A bit of distant sadness came over me, but having not known the couple, I easily detached myself from it. I waited for the newswoman to repeat the story, wanting to know what caused their death, but Elena drew my attention away first, calling out to me.

“Let’s go, Emery. Bonnie’s here.”

I got up with a groan and made my way to the front door, grabbing the school bag I left on the stairs, and followed her outside to Bonnie’s Prius.

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“So, I’ve been spending a lot of time with Grams and she’s been telling me I’m a psychic. Apparently, we’re descendants of Salem witches; I know, right? I wasn’t buying it either. She’s going on and on about it, and I’m like, put this woman in a home already! But then I remembered my uncanny accuracy. I mean, I predicted Obama, I predicted Heath Ledger, and I still think Florida will break off and become little resort islands. I think there might be something to it…”

I laughed at Bonnie’s sudden, drawn out speech. I knew the girl was just trying to break the awkward silence in the car. We hadn’t seen Bonnie much during the summer, her being busy with camp and lifeguard duty, and though I knew Elena felt guilty for it, I didn’t mind. I never really clicked with Elena’s friends like she did. We were cool with each other, but let’s be real, they were mostly my friends too because I was Elena’s sister. But hey, that didn’t stop us from genuinely liking each other as time went on.

I remembered the day Bonnie’s Heath Ledger prediction came true. It was truly a sad day… “Knowing how your grandma is, I can totally see it,” I said, easily latching on to the idea. Sheila being a ‘witch’ was common talk in all the gossip rings of Mystic Falls, though it likely started because of her slightly unconventional career choice in teaching the occult. If I ever made it to old-lady status, I could only hope to be half as cool as her.

Bonnie smiled at me through the rear mirror, appreciating my acknowledgment while my sister stayed silent. “What do you think, Elena?” Bonnie glanced at Elena. She was in her own little world, staring blankly out the window. “Elena! Back in the car please.”

Elena jumped, snapping out of her daze and looking guiltily at Bonnie. “I did it again, didn’t I? I-I’m sorry Bonnie, you were saying that-”

I leaned forward, grinning. “Miss Bennett here claims to be a witch.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “I am not a witch. I’m psychic. Maybe,” she corrected, as if that was less crazy. At Elena’s skeptical look, she continued. “Em believes it.”

“Em believes anything.” I swatted her shoulder, mouth open in mock insult. Amused, Elena asked, “Alright, then. Prove it. Predict something. About me.”

The Bennett waved her hand around in a goofy, mystical way that made me scoff. “I see…”

Something black suddenly hit the car with a loud thwack. Bonnie jerked the steering wheel to the right, hitting the curb, before quickly slamming on the brakes to stop.

“Oh my god! What was that?”

I quickly overcame my sudden whiplash from not wearing a seat belt to look at my twin with concern, reaching out to grasp her shoulder. “Elena, you okay?”

“I am so sorry, Elena. The bird— it just came out of nowhere!”

“Don’t worry, Bonnie, I’m fine. Really.” Despite her words, Elena looked pale, her breathing slightly jagged. She reached for my hand, squeezing it tightly. “I can’t let cars freak me out for the rest of my life.”

“Hey, don’t push yourself, okay? You’ll be ready when you’re ready,” I comforted, frowning at her words. She was still going to keep on pretending, despite having people there to support her until she was ready. The car started moving again and I sat back to put my seat belt on, realizing I should have been more considerate towards my sister and worn it to begin with.

Silent, Bonnie watched the road for a short moment before turning to us with a smile. “I predict this year is going to be kick ass. And all the dark times are over and the two of you are going to be beyond happy.”

I looked at Bonnie gratefully, especially after seeing Elena’s touched, and hopeful, smile.

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We made our way down the halls of Mystic Falls High School, heading first towards Elena’s locker—the closest. “Major lack of male real estate,” Bonnie observed, checking out a group of guys. Her attention swiftly changed to Kelly—a girl I knew for a fact Bonnie disliked—as she walked by. “Look at the shower curtain on Kelly Beech. She looks like a hot—can I still say ‘tranny mess’?”

“No, I think that’s over,” Elena answered. I frowned at the insult, but hastily nodded in confirmation. Don’t need that inappropriate phrase popping up again.

“Ahh, find a man, coin a phrase. It’s a busy year.”

“Yes, because those are such important things to worry about. School definitely hits the bottom of the list when compared to those two,” I piped in sarcastically as we reached Elena’s locker.

“Ha-ha, Em.” Bonnie faked a glare at me, trying not to smile.

We focused on Elena after hearing her release a sigh. “He hates me.”

Following her line of sight, I took notice of Matt conspicuously ignoring us from across the hallway, or more specifically, Elena.

“That’s not hate. That’s ‘you dumped me and I’m too cool to show it, but secretly I’m listening to Air Supply’s greatest hits’,” Bonnie provided, looking at Elena with sympathy.

Translation: you totally broke his heart, I thought somewhat bitterly.

“Has he mentioned anything to you lately, Em?” my sister inquired.

I tried very hard to hide the bitterness in voice. “Nope, we haven’t talked in days. Just the occasional text.”

I watched Matt walk away, wanting to follow him, but suspected he wasn’t in the mood to talk to me right now, being the sister of his ex-girlfriend. Even if we were best friends…

At the sight of Caroline approaching us with her bouncy blonde waves, however, I almost thought about changing my mind to head after the jock.

Elena caught the look on my face and nudged my arm, giving me a pointed look. “Be nice,” she whispered. I rolled my eyes, knowing I couldn’t promise anything.

“Elena, Emery! Oh, my god.”

Caroline gave a hug to each of us, to which I had just stood awkwardly with my arms to my sides. “How are you two? Oh, it’s so good to see you both.” She turned to address Bonnie, completely ignoring us. “How are they? Are they good?”

Elena smiled, waving Caroline to attention. “We’re right here, Care. And I’m fine. Thank you.”

The cheerleader swiftly turned onto me. I grinned, showing all my teeth. “Peachy.”

“Really?”

We both nodded. “Yes. Much better,” Elena confirmed.

“Oh, you poor things,” Caroline whaled sympathetically, obviously not believing us as she squeezed us together in another tight hug.

Elena patted her back. “Okay, Caroline.”

“Oh! Okay. See you guys later?”

“Okay! Bye!” I waved in an exaggerated mock cheeriness, glad to see her skipping away.

“No comment,” Elena said dryly, shaking her head.

“I’m not going to say anything,” Bonnie replied, putting her hands up.

I grumbled, wishing I could brush off the lingering presence of “prep”. “You better not…”

We finally began to make our way to my locker, which was down the hall by the main office.

“Hold up.” Bonnie halted us, looking through the door to the main office. “Who’s this?”

Elena tilted her head. “All I see is back.”

“It’s a hot back.”

After hearing them both comment, I turned to glance through the glass windows of the office. An unrecognizable male student stood facing the secretary, Mrs. Clarke. The black leather jacket and dark wash jeans were stylish and a nice fit. His light brown hair was short and neat and from the way his head was slightly angled, I could see a pair of black sunglasses on his face. Sunglasses, indoors. Definitely screamed wannabe rebel, bad boy.

After my quick appraisal I, despite silently agreeing the back was indeed hot—and mysterious—wasn’t interested. I turned away from the office doors, watching the crowd as I waited for the other two to finish contemplating the new student.

“I’m sensing Seattle, and he plays the guitar.”

Elena shook her head in amusement. “You’re really going to run this whole psychic thing into the ground, huh?”

“Pretty much,” the so called ‘psychic’ shrugged.

I was about to laugh at the idea of Bonnie constantly making little predictions, only to have to hold back a groan at the sight of my brother heading down the hall in our direction, looking very obviously stoned.

C’mon bro, wake and bake? Really?

Before Elena could turn around and notice, I tried distracting her by drawing more attention to the “mysteriously hot back” guy. “You know, I can definitely see the guitar part, Bonnie. And if he is from Seattle, I bet you ten bucks he’s a big grunge fan.”

“I’ll take that bet,” Bonnie accepted, smirking.

Elena rolled her eyes at us. “Not everyone is into grunge like you, Em.”

I scoffed. “Please, sister, I love every music genre. Trust me, I know what people like. And I’m going to prove it too,” I said, sounding smug at not only my own prediction, but that I was also successfully distracting them. I began pushing the two towards the office door.

“Em!” My sister shrieked, holding her ground. “We can’t just walk up to him now! He’s busy.”

“Who cares?” I retorted. Bonnie laughed at the two of us.

“Jeremy, good batch, man,” I heard some boy shout out from the crowd.

“Jeremy?” Elena, now on alert, pushed me away and turned around. I released the groan this time when my twin spotted our younger brother walking into the boys’ bathroom. Elena promptly followed in after him with no shame.

Well, I tried, little bro.

With a shrug, I left Bonnie behind and began heading to my own locker.

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I wasn’t sure how it happened so fast, but by History class I caught my twin and the Mysteriously Hot Back Guy making googly eyes at each other. I wasn’t sure if the two had even spoken to one another yet for this weird ‘attraction’ to spark up. Either way, I was greatly annoyed by it.

And it wasn’t because Mysteriously Hot Back Guy also had a mysteriously hot front and I was therefore jealous. It was because Matt was my best friend and it wasn’t too long ago when Elena broke up with him without any real explanation. The first day of school wasn’t even over yet and she was already showing immense interest in a guy I didn’t even know the name of. I haven’t even found out if he was a grunge fan yet!

Matt was going to be devastated. I sighed as I held my head in my hand to avoid said boys gaze as he slowly seemed to be catching onto the exchanged glances. He was probably going to try and ignore me even more now…

Feeling the soft vibration in my front jean pocket, I turned away from stupid Mr. Tanner, to discreetly pull out my phone.

“Hawt-e. Staring @ u.”

I looked up, wondering what the Bennett was talking about, when I caught the girl looking at the two love-struck fools with a grin on her face. Rolling my eyes, I texted back.

“Wrong twin, Bon.”

Bonnie’s grin dropped into a confused frown as she read the reply. Finally meeting my exasperated glare, her expression quickly changed to apologetic.

“Oops. Sorry…” Bonnie texted, before immediately alerting the other twin, as if Elena didn’t even know he was looking, and she wasn’t doing it back.

Sighing, I stuffed my phone back in my pocket before Tanner noticed. It wasn’t as if this never happened before. Elena and Emery were usually right next to each other in everyone’s contacts. You wouldn’t believe all the accidental texts I’d received in the past that were meant for my sister’s eyes only… I shivered as a few instantly came to mind.

The rest of class was all lecture, so I was thankfully able to ignore everyone around me and focus on doodling nonsense in my notebook.

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“Do you want to come with me to the cemetery, Em?” Elena asked softly after our final class of the day.

I shook my head, giving the same answer I always gave. “Not today.” Finished stuffing all my books in my bag, I grabbed my running spikes from the bottom of my locker. “I think I’m going to stay and get some practice on the track.”

“I thought it was too late to do cross country?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t mean I shouldn’t stay in shape. I can still do track in the spring. We still meeting up at the Grill later?”

“Yeah. Bonnie and Caroline are going to meet us there.” Elena nodded, appearing somewhat disappointed and anxious. Damn, I knew it. The ride to school really did freak her out. She only ever asked me after something reminded her of the accident. But I didn’t want to feel guilty for saying no, especially not this time. I didn’t need to go to our parents’ grave and watch Elena write in her journal while I simply stared off into the distance. That was never a part of my grieving process, and never gave me comfort the few times I accompanied my sister before.

“Okay then, I guess I’ll cut my run a little short today then. Meet you at home.”

“See ya.”

The two of us split ways outside the school entrance. I watched Elena walk alone in the direction of the town cemetery for a moment, then sighed, and made my way around the building to the athletic fields.

The track at Mystic Falls High surrounded the football field, a stadium design most schools incorporated in order to save space and money on new bleachers. I used to hate the layout when I was younger and just starting to find an interest in running, as most girls were usually self-conscious of doing the action in front of people. Especially the football team, since they often held practice at the same time as cross country. I got over my self-consciousness fast however, thanks to Matt joining the football team and watching out for me, stopping the guys from their wolf-whistling and what-not.

I dropped my bags on the bleachers when reaching the field, bending down to put my spikes on. With a few quick stretches, I pressed play on my iPod and was off, starting with a slow pace.

Most people questioned my sanity when I told them I loved running. The movement of my legs, the pressure of my feet pushing off the ground, coupled with the intense pounding of my heart and laborious burning in my lungs as I try to maintain steady breathing… Honestly, I couldn’t think of anyway better than this to get my mind off the tough reality of life.

When too many difficulties were being thrown at me, running had been the best way to forget for a moment in order to rejuvenate myself and come back feeling stronger and more able to deal.

Sometimes, I wanted to give running the credit for allowing me to move on more easily from my parents’ death, unlike my siblings. As in a way, the action felt like a form of therapy. But a part of me also knew that wasn’t it. I knew I felt differently than most people, my emotions and reactions to them often abnormal compared to others. It was something that used to worry my parents when I was a kid, being so different from others my age. As a teen, I surprisingly learned to embrace it, as I saw how hormonal and emotional my peers got when hitting puberty and did not envy it one bit. But now? Now I wondered if I was messed up, broken. Because, when next to my siblings, seeing how they took the death of our parents—and still were for that matter—it made me question if I was simply just a heartless person.

Shaking my head, I released a burst of energy, now running at full speed, deciding not to stop until my playlist reached its end.

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“Oh my god, what happened?” I inquired with concern at the sight of my sister. I had just gotten home from my run, intent on taking a shower in the conjoined bathroom, only to find Elena with her leg on the counter, jeans rolled up to her knee to expose the crusted blood.

“I fell,” Elena answered, smiling sheepishly. “Don’t worry, the blood makes it look worse than it actually is.”

After getting a closer look, I could see it really wasn’t bad and my concern fast turned to curiosity.

“How’d you fall?”

As Elena washed the blood away, I took out the peroxide and handed it to her. “Thanks.” Hissing slightly from the sting once she applied the peroxide, Elena looked back up at me. “It’s stupid.”

“Yeah? How stupid?”

“Like a bird scared me enough to run away and then trip kind of stupid,” she explained, cringing in embarrassment.

I scoffed in amusement. “A bird scared you?”

“It was a crow,” she corrected defensively.

I put on a serious expression, eyes widening. “A crow, you say? Well it’s a good thing you hiked it out of there before it could pluck out your soul and carry it to the land of the dead!”

“Shut up!” Elena laughed, throwing the mostly gone roll of toilet paper at me.

I stuck my tongue out after succeeding in catching it.

“It was weird though,” Elena started, sounding contemplative as she rubbed a large band-aid over the wound. “Right after I fell the new guy appeared—”

“Mysteriously Hot Back Guy?”

“You’re seriously still calling him that?” 

I nodded seriously.

Elena shook her head amusedly before continuing, “Yeah, him. Anyway, he said he was visiting family too. He asked if I was okay, but after getting a look at my leg, he just up and disappeared.”

“Hmmm… Maybe he’s stalking you?” I suggested, not actually finding it too unusual, but not against taking the chance to deter my sister away from him. Seriously, he just left her alone there, injured? What kind of person does that?

Elena looked at me flatly. “He is not stalking me, Em.”

“You never know,” I sang mystically. “But anyway, I wanna take a shower before I do my homework, so skedaddle!” I waved my sister out of the bathroom and to her own room.

“Okay, okay. I should get started on my own homework too. Just make sure you’re ready to go to the Grill by seven, alright?”

“Yup, got it,” I affirmed, before swinging the door shut. I really wanted to wash off all the sweat and stink already.

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“You ready to go, Em?” Elena asked, peeking her head into my room from our conjoined bathroom.

Throwing up all the clothes from the floor to find something nice, I looked at my sister before slowly glancing around at my wardrobe. “Uh, yeah… Just let me find a shirt real quick.”

Elena shook her head, an amused but slightly disgusted expression on her face. “Seriously Em, you really need to do your laundry.”

“I do my laundry!” I argued indignantly. “I just don’t always hang it up…”

She rolled her eyes, “You can always wear one of my shirts, you know. At least you’d for sure be wearing something clean that way.”

I pouted, throwing another shirt down. “Your clothes are always too tight on me.”

Being fraternal twins, our body types were completely different from one another. Whereas Elena was taller and slimmer, I was shorter and curvier. Something I attributed from Mom’s side, while we think Elena took after the females on Dad’s. She certainly didn’t gain Mom and I’s pale skin tone either, the lucky girl somehow inheriting a nice olive color. Unlike me, she had never experienced a severe sunburn in her life.

“I have a few loose tops that would fit you just fine,” Elena insisted, but seeing my disinterest, sighed and turned back to her own room. “Fine then, I’ll meet you downstairs. Try not to take too long.”

I stuck my tongue out behind her back.

After what felt like an eternity, but was actually only two minutes later, I settled on a plaid flannel that looked good with my hazel eyes (sniffing it first to confirm it was indeed clean), dark skinny jeans, and floral patterned converse. I began to head downstairs but stopped, however, at the sound of a foreign voice. Crouching down to peak out the front door, I saw my sister talking with—Mysteriously Hot Back Guy?

What was he doing here? My eyes widened in slight curiosity, and then I realized something. Mysteriously Hot Back Guy is stalking my sister!

Quickly stomping down the stairs, I startled the two from their conversation.

“Mysteriously Hot Back Guy, what are you doing here? Not stalking my sister, are you?” I asked in a blunt flurry, narrowing my eyes at him accusingly.

“Er—what?” he blurted out, looking slightly alarmed.

Elena rolled her eyes, unfazed. “This is my twin, Emery. Ignore her.”

“That’s not very nice,” I pouted at her, before swiftly turning to appraise Mysteriously Hot Back Guy up close for the first time. He was definitely attractive—tall, with an athletic and broad shoulder figure, and brown hair gelled in a swept-up fashion. But something about his brooding, deep-set forest green eyes seemed to put me off.

“Hello, Emery. I’m Stefan Salvatore,” he introduced politely. I visibly frowned. Well, there goes my name for him now that I knew his real one. No more mystery… Thanks for ruining it so soon, Stefan. But then again, it was starting to become a hassle to say… “I was simply returning your sister’s journal.”

“Mhmm,” I hummed skeptically, eyeing him up and down suspiciously. “Strange how you had it in the first place.” And knew where we lived. A pause. Okay, small town. Maybe not that weird. But still, it likely meant he had to ask someone. Only weirdos go that far.

Just as he was about to explain himself, Elena interrupted.

“I left it in the cemetery, Em,” she started with another eye roll and then smiled at him appreciatively. “Stefan was kind enough to return it to me.” Yeah, sure, as if it wasn’t all a part of his diabolic plan from the beginning.

“You mean after leaving you there to die from excessive blood loss?”

Elena sighed. “Stop exaggerating. It wasn’t that bad, you said so yourself, Em.” She reassured him, “Really, it wasn’t bad. I’m perfectly fine.”

Stefan at least had the decency to look ashamed. “Still, I apologize for having left you there alone suddenly. It was very inconsiderate of me.”

“Well, at least you acknowledge it,” I relented with exaggerated haughtiness in my tone.

An awkward silence descended on us after that. “I’m gonna go, uh, set this down real quick,” Elena said, gesturing to her journal. She glanced between us and gave me a pointed look, before walking away. “Oh, and you don’t have to stand out there, Stefan.”

Yes, yes you do. Still staring him down, I didn’t move from my spot blocking the doorway, trying to make him feel as awkward as possible.

He looked down to his feet and then back up at me, clearly seeing I wasn’t going to budge, as he didn’t attempt stepping forward. Smart choice. “That’s alright, I’m fine here,” he called out to Elena.

The sounds of the crickets outside could easily be heard as we stood there quietly.

“Were you both planning on heading out?” Stefan inquired after a few seconds of awkward silence.

Before I could answer, my sister reappeared. “We’re actually meeting some friends at the Grill.” She paused for a second. “Do you… do you want to come?” Elena asked shyly, hopeful.

What is this girl thinking?! I screeched internally, trying to prevent my eyes from bulging out at the stupidity of inviting the stalker.

Stefan turned to me, clearly taking note of my reaction regardless. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

Seeing Elena’s hopeful expression now directed at me, I groaned on the inside. “No imposing here. C’mon, Steffy, vehicle is this way,” I instructed, not waiting to see if they were following me to the SUV.

Oh well, he is a stalker.

He’d probably follow us anyway.

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Chapter Text

Two

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The ride to the Grill filled me with a strange mix of awkwardness and pride. Pride, because my sister willingly beat me to the car keys, and then proceeded to make her way our shared SUV, sliding into the driver’s seat without a second thought. Awkwardness, because a stranger was in the vehicle with us, and the entire way I kept silent while they shared small talk.

All I wanted to do was gush at my sister for overcoming her fear, but I was wary of drawing attention to it in case it brought awareness to her previous unease. Plus, Stefan didn’t need to be clued into my sister’s struggle with driving these past few months. I watched her carefully out of the corner of my eye, and besides her grip being a tad tighter on the wheel, it didn’t seem as if she was forcing herself to drive. It was like she just reflexively picked up her role of being the driver again.

I stole a quick glance back at Stefan, catching him grinning at some cringey joke my sister cracked about a teacher. It made me wonder if his presence had something to do with her returned confidence behind the wheel.

I finally felt relief when my sister parked the SUV in the lot behind the grill. Not waiting for them, I quickly opened the passenger door and raced to the entrance of the restaurant. With a quick skim of the place, I easily spotted Matt’s messy mop of dirty blonde hair. And after closer inspection, I saw Bonnie seated next to him. Based on Matt’s inquisitive and kicked-puppy expression, I could easily tell what the two were talking about. Or who, to be more specific.

I rushed over to the two before Matt could spot me and make a getaway like he did all day at school. And of course, I got stuck behind a table that decided to rise the moment I tried to pass, so before I could make it over there, he was already standing and walking away. To my surprise, however, it was directly towards Elena and Stefan, both having just walked in looking very much like a couple together.

I cringed at the exchanged introductions between the two guys. This was one reason I didn’t like dating in such a small town. I could only imagine it being ten times more awkward between those three than it was with me, Elena, and Stefan in the car.

With a sigh, I turned and spotted Caroline now sitting with Bonnie.

“Elena invited Mysteriously Hot Back Guy to the Grill with us,” I informed the two somewhat grumpily, slumping into one of the seats at the table.

While Bonnie giggled, having heard the nickname in our shared math class, Caroline stared at me in complete confusion. “Who?”

I tipped my head in the direction of said guy as Bonnie answered, “Stefan.”

Caroline didn’t bat an eye when she realized it was a nickname for the new guy. Instead, she eagerly glanced toward him, only to frown as Elena and Stefan smiled at each other while walking over to us—Matt now nowhere in sight. I groaned, understanding immediately how this was going to go.

Damn it, Caroline. Really? You just have to go after every new hot guy, don’t you…

I was all too familiar with the scenario: a guy shows interest in Elena, and Caroline immediately sets her sights on him. It turns into a one-sided competition, but in the end, when Caroline doesn’t get the guy, she sulks, convinced Elena effortlessly gets everything without even trying—whether my sister gives the guy the time of day or not. Caroline consistently puts herself in Elena’s shadow and then vents about her behind her back. And Elena still wondered why I wasn’t close friends with the blonde.

I rested my cheek in my hand. Newsflash, Caroline, no one was more stuck in Elena’s shadow than me.

I blinked, then quickly shook that ridiculous thought out of my head.

“When did this happen?” she probed, leaning in a little too close.

I tilted my chair back. “Like, a few minutes ago. He showed up at our house when we were about to leave.”

“He came to see her?” Caroline squeaked, clearly upset.

Bonnie and I exchanged a look as Caroline immediately reverted back to her perky self when the new “couple” sat down.

It didn’t take long for the interrogation to begin. As soon as the server left after taking our orders, Caroline immediately jumped him. Figuratively, not literally, of course—though with her, you could never really be sure.

He answered all their questions politely, almost too politely, and I could tell he was really putting in the effort to make a good impression—for Elena, of course. It was obvious, at least to me, that he wanted to get on all our good sides to make her happy. Not a bad strategy—my sister deserved to be happy—but it did make me wonder how genuine the guy was. Was he really this perfect, polite dreamboat, or was this just a well-rehearsed act to get into her pants? Wouldn’t be the first time a guy tried that, though none of them had been anywhere near Stefan’s level.

So, naturally, I spent the entire interrogation staring him down intensely, trying to figure him out—like Elena, but without the lovestruck googly eyes. Or the whole “listening with rapt attention” thing she had going on. Way too much effort to see and hear intently at the same time.

But I couldn’t help getting drawn back in at the mention of his parents.

“My… parents passed away,” Stefan answered Bonnie, looking away solemnly. I felt a small tug at the knowledge, and despite his expression, I could tell the pain in his eyes was old. It made me wonder how long it had been since they passed.

Elena, understandingly, took his answer even more to heart. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, deeply sympathetic, before moving on quickly. Because we both knew how hard it was to dwell over such a subject. “Any siblings?”

“None that I talk to. I live with my uncle.” The deflection was so obvious, it practically had a neon sign flashing over it. For a second, I almost pressed him further, ready to dig into the mystery. But then I hesitated. If his strained sibling relationship had anything to do with losing his parents, I wasn’t about to risk reopening old wounds. Even I wasn’t that blunt. Sometimes.

“Zachary Salvatore?” I asked instead, figuring that had to be the person he was referring to.

Stefan nodded in confirmation.

“Huh, I didn’t know he had any remaining family. But I guess he does keep to himself a lot, so who’d know.” Then it hit me, and my excitement spiked like a sugar rush. “Wait, so that means you live at the old boarding house?!” I practically bounced in my seat, sitting on my knees as I leaned over the table. “I’ve always wanted to see inside that place! It’s one of the oldest buildings in Mystic Falls—just imagine the architecture, the interior design, the history in those walls!” My hands flailed as I spoke, like they could somehow convey the sheer amazement I felt about the place.

Elena laughed, her fond “Oh, Emery” look fully engaged as she explained to Stefan, “Em’s always had this weird obsession with old things. Especially buildings.”

“It’s not an obsession,” I muttered with a huff, but Stefan was already smiling, not put off by my near invasion of his space. It was weirdly disarming.

“I don’t find it weird at all,” he said, surprising me. “There’s something fascinating about seeing objects and places survive through the years. They carry stories, just waiting to be uncovered.”

I twisted in my seat to face each of the girls, pointing at him like I’d just found the Holy Grail. “See? See! He gets it!”

Bonnie shook her head, biting back a grin. “Oh, we get it. What’s weird is how you react to it.”

I flopped back down with an exaggerated pout, grabbing a fry and dramatically stuffing it into my mouth as the three of them laughed at my expense.

And then Stefan, proving that he might just be too nice to be real, offered, “Maybe I could give you a tour of the place sometime?”

My brain short-circuited for half a second, and I was halfway out of my seat before I caught myself. He glanced at Elena, his expression softening when he saw her happy, approving smile, and my excitement deflated just a little. The offer wasn’t really for me, was it? It was part of the whole “make Elena happy” thing.

“That’d be cool,” I said with a noncommittal shrug, sitting back down and fidgeting with the ring on my finger to keep from sounding too put off. Casual indifference. Totally nailed it.

Thankfully, Caroline swooped in to steer the conversation elsewhere. “So, Stefan. Since you’re new here, you probably don’t know about the party tomorrow night.”

Bonnie perked up like she’d been waiting for the chance to hype it up. “It’s a back-to-school thing at the falls,” she explained, all smiles.

I caught the subtle furrow of Stefan’s brow, and it was clear as day to me that he wasn’t interested. Not even a little. But after watching him so far, I could already predict what was coming next.

Sure enough, Stefan turned to Elena, his expression inquisitive. “Are you going?”

Yup. There it was. Called it. I mentally rolled my eyes. I may not have you entirely figured out yet, Salvatore, but one thing’s for sure: you are predictable. Especially when it comes to my sister.

Before Elena could get a word in, Bonnie latched onto her arm like a giddy matchmaker. “Of course she is!”

Elena’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t deny it.

I fought back the urge to gag.

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“The Battle of Willow Creek took place at the end of the war in our very own home, Mystic Falls. How many casualties resulted in this battle?” Mr. Tanner inquired, pacing in front of the chalkboard with that haughty, I-know-everything demeanor.

Three hundred and forty-six, I thought in a bored drawl, twirling my pencil between my fingers.

It took everything in me not to slump so low in my seat I slid right out of it. I knew the answer no problem—history was still one of my favorite subjects despite having an insufferable dick of a teacher. But I didn’t trust myself to answer. The sass and tone I’d use? Definitely not classroom appropriate. Tanner and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye, and everyone in the room knew it.

“Ms. Bennett?” he called, startling Bonnie from her notes.

She blinked, caught off guard. “Um… a lot?” she said, giving him a sheepish smile. “Like… a whole lot?”

Mr. Tanner narrowed his eyes. “Cute becomes dumb in an instant, Ms. Bennett.”

I could feel my irritation start to boil over at the insult. To avoid snapping, I redirected my energy, doodling in the margins of my notebook, hoping to calm down and drown his voice out.

“Mr. Donovan, would you like to take this opportunity to overcome your embedded jock stereotype?”

Matt grinned, holding back a chuckle. “It’s okay, Mr. Tanner. I’m cool with it.”

The class erupted in laughter, and I couldn’t help but smile fondly. Leave it to Matt to defuse the tension. Most of the students didn’t know the answer anyway—it wasn’t exactly common knowledge. But as someone from a founding family, and a mom who loved throwing herself into every historical event, I’d grown up with access to plenty of old records about Mystic Falls.

Tanner made an amused sound, clearly willing to let Matt off the hook since he coached the football team.

It went as no surprise his gaze went right over me—like I wasn’t even there—and landed on my sister. Of course. He knew I’d ruin his little power trip by giving the right answer.

“Elena,” he said. For some reason, Tanner always used our first names, even though no one else in the class got that treatment—not even the Bradley sisters. Out of a lack of respect? Probably. The guy was a douche; no deeper reason needed. “Surely you can enlighten us about one of the town’s most significant historical events?”

The smile dropped from Elena’s face, guilt replacing it. “I’m sorry, I-I don’t know.”

Tanner frowned sternly. “I was willing to be lenient last year for obvious reason, Elena, but the personal excuses ended with summer break.”

The lead in my pencil snapped with a sharp crack under the pressure of my grip. I clenched my jaw as Elena ducked her head, visibly hurt by his words.

Oh no, he didn’t.

How dare he? My blood boiled. I opened my mouth, ready to tear into him, despite the warning glance Bonnie shot my way. She knew me well enough to know I wouldn’t let this slide.

But before I could say a word, a new voice cut through the tension.

“There were 346 casualties,” Stefan said calmly. “Unless you’re counting local civilians.”

I whipped my head towards Stefan, caught off guard by the sudden shift in the conversation. His expression was calm, but upon closer inspection, I noted there was a sharpness in his eyes—something cold, maybe even calculated.

“That’s correct, Mr…” Tanner trailed off. Wow… doesn’t even know the new students name.

“Salvatore,” Stefan supplied.

“Salvatore.” Tanner gave a thin smile. “Any relation to the original settlers here at Mystic Falls?

“Distant,” Stefan answered briskly, not indulging the teacher’s attempt at polite small talk. His vague answer piqued my interest though.

“Very good. Except, of course, there were no civilian casualties in this battle.”

Stefan’s expression didn’t waver. “Actually, sir-”

I watched them go back and forth, thoroughly impressed and amused as Stefan schooled the dick of a teacher. Every correction from Stefan earned quiet murmurs of ooohs and whispered burns from the class.

In that moment, I realized I might need to rethink my opinion of Stefan Salvatore. Sure, he probably wanted to impress Elena—just like he’d done last night at the Grill—but this felt different. He wasn’t just trying to charm her. He stood up for her, but in a way that didn’t make it seem like she couldn’t do it herself if she wanted to.

I had to admit—I could admire that. Especially as I watched the hurt in Elena’s eyes fade away, replaced by a genuine smile.

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“Is that really what you’re going to wear to the bonfire?” Elena asked, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at my baggy sweatpants and tank top.

I ignored what sounded like a veiled insult, turning my attention back to the blank paper and pencil in my lap. “I’m not going.”

“What? Why not? We go every year!”

That was the problem. I was tired of the same old parties: drunk teenagers, shallow conversations and gossip, and inevitable drama.

Parties were never my forte. I wasn’t into drinking—determined to wait until my 21^st birthday—and crowds didn’t exactly make me feel warm and fuzzy.

Well, the one exception being concerts. I’d put up with them then.

“Don’t feel like it,” I replied shortly, tapping my pencil in thought. What to draw, what to draw…? I really needed to come up with something for my painting class before I fell behind.

With a frustrated sigh, Elena plopped down beside me on the bed. Despite being twins, we never seemed to like the same things—something that led to plenty of arguments over the years. “Oh, c’mon, please? I need you there with me! It’ll be fun.”

I snorted. “You don’t need me. We both know you’ll ditch me the second Stefan shows up,” I stated, not the least bit bothered by the fact.

Elena’s cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, knowing I wasn’t wrong. I smirked at her reaction, which made her crack a reluctant smile in return.

“Okay, fine. But what if it turns out Stefan isn’t as perfect as he seems? Then I’ll need you,” she said, her voice softening just enough to tug at my protective side.

I rolled my eyes but hesitated. It wasn’t an entirely far-fetched scenario. Sure, Bonnie and Caroline would be there, but Caroline usually got carried away, and Bonnie always ended up babysitting her. That would leave me to look after Elena. As usual.

And this was her first real party since… since the accident. Did I really want to leave her alone for that?

I groaned dramatically and flopped backward on the bed, throwing an arm over my eyes as I gave in. Elena always found a way to wear me down eventually anyway. At least this way I could finally try and corner Matt.

“Fine,” I muttered. “But only because I’m not entirely convinced this guy isn’t a creepy stalker.”

Elena’s mouth twisted briefly, like she wanted to argue, but she wisely chose gratitude instead, leaning down to hug me tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled, pushing her off me with a half-hearted shove.

“Okay, get dressed!” she said, springing off the bed. “Bonnie’s coming to pick us up soon!”

I watched her dash out of the room, leaving me alone with my sketchbook. I glanced down at it, the blank page mocking me, feeling a pang of guilt. It felt like ages since I’d done anything creative, and here I was, abandoning it again for something I didn’t even want to do.

But… this was Elena. And Rule Number One in the Gilbert house? Elena always gets what she wants.

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The music and chatter weren’t as bad, I had to admit—probably because we were outside. It felt less suffocating knowing I could slip out of the crowd anytime I wanted. Being near the river helped, too. The water always had a way of calming me down.

I followed Bonnie and Elena toward one of the kegs. Bonnie only filled two plastic cups, knowing I didn’t drink, and handed one of them to Elena. Their conversation quickly veered toward Stefan and romance—you know, boring stuff—so I let my attention drift and began people-watching.

I tuned back in a moment later when Bonnie’s tone suddenly changed, her playful demeanor replaced by something uneasy.

“A crow. There was fog, and… a man,” she murmured, shaking her head, looking kind of spooked. “I’m drunk. It’s the drinking. There’s nothing psychic about it. Yeah? Okay, I’m gonna get a refill.”

“Bonnie, wait!” Elena called, but Bonnie was already walking away.

I blinked, confused. “Okay, what did I miss? Is she alright?”

Elena looked just as lost. “I don’t know. She—”

“Hi,” a voice interrupted from behind her.

Elena spun around, her startled confusion melting into a bright smile. “Hi.”

Stefan returned the smile, looking just as delighted. “I did it again, didn’t I?” he asked, a little sheepishly.

So, he sneaks up on her often. Noted.

“Yeah,” Elena giggled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

I glanced between the two and slowly backed away, feeling like an awkward third wheel. “I’m just gonna… uh, go away now,” I announced, pointing off in the opposite direction before pivoting on my heel and heading toward the coolers. Maybe I could score something non-alcoholic.

To my luck, on the way, I spotted Matt by the fire pit, illuminated by the soft warm glow, and completely unaware of my presence a few feet away. Now is my chance. With a mischievous grin, I sneakily approached him from behind.

“Mattie!” I shouted, leaping onto his back. He twitched in surprise, but quickly realized it was me and stopped to turn his head.

“Uh, Em, hey,” he greeted awkwardly, his expression shifting from confusion to recognition.

I slid off his back, forcing my mouth into a serious frown, despite the urge to continue teasing him. “Oh, so it takes sneaking up on you just to finally get some acknowledgment, huh? How very best friend of you, Mattie.”

Matt, ever sensitive, took it to heart, his guilt evident as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I was gonna talk to you, Em, I swear. I just—”

“I know, I know,” I sighed. Because I did, really. Things had been awkward all summer since Elena broke up with him. It wasn’t entirely his fault we hadn’t talked much—between his lifeguard job and the breakup, we both found excuses to keep our distance. But still… enough time had passed. He needed to move on.

Elena certainly had. This very instant.

The fact that breaking up with Matt hadn’t been a difficult choice for her still rubbed me the wrong way. But I understood that it was hard for her to have him around after everything. Losing Mom and Dad hit her the hardest—all things considered. And I guess, without realizing it, I’d pushed Matt away too, trying to make things easier on her.

Matt, who definitely had a bit of a buzz going on—because otherwise this wouldn’t be going down quite so easily—started apologizing. “No, seriously. I really, really, am sorry Emie. I’ve been a dick. I promised I wouldn’t let things with Elena mess up our friendship, even if we broke up. And I already screwed that up.” He shook his head, looking genuinely remorseful. “But I won’t ignore you again. I swear.”

I huffed dramatically, though I couldn’t hide my smile. “Weeell… since you promised, I guess I can forgive you.”

Matt chuckled, pulling me into a bear hug, squeezing me tight enough to make me laugh.

“Alright, alright. Enough of the chick flick moment, please. You’re killing my buzz,” Tyler complained with an eye roll. I totally didn’t even see him there, the creep.

Matt and I both glanced at each other, mischief in both our eyes, before looking at a now startled Tyler.

“Hey, no—!”

Without warning, we jumped him, hugging him as tightly and awkwardly as possible, drawing the attention of other partygoers around the fire. After a moment of struggling, we allowed him to push us off, our laughter nearly drowning him out as he cursed and feigned irritation.

But I knew Tyler liked it, he was just as much a teddy bear underneath his asshole-ness.

As we released Tyler from our impromptu group hug, he attempted to regain his composure, scowling at us. “You two are seriously nuts. Can’t I enjoy a peaceful night without being assaulted by you emotional losers?”

I chuckled, playfully nudging him. “C’mon, Ty, deep down, you love it. Admit it.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a small smirk. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just don’t make it a habit.”

Matt clapped Tyler on the back, grinning. “Don’t worry, man. We’ll keep the emotional displays to a minimum. Wouldn’t want to ruin your tough-guy reputation.”

Tyler scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m really concerned about my reputation around you two.” But the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. He glanced around at the crowd gathered by the fire pit, their attention back on their own conversations, before his gaze landed back on me.

“So, what’s your deal tonight? Didn’t think you’d even show up.” Tyler asked, bending to pick up a log from the firewood pile and throwing it into the flames. “Figured you’d be glued to Elena’s back if you did.”

Matt shot me a glance as my brow twitched, clearly sensing the incoming snark. Before I could fire back, he beat me to it. “Just catching up. It’s been a while since the three of us hung out.”

Tyler raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Catching up, huh? Did I miss some drama or what?”

It wasn’t unusual for Tyler and me to go weeks without talking, especially during the summer. Matt, on the other hand, had been a constant since diaper days, so our recent fallout wasn’t something Tyler would’ve noticed—nor was he the type to get filled in. Sensitive conversations weren’t exactly Tyler’s thing, thanks to his dad and the emotional range of a teaspoon.

I crossed my arms, giving Matt a pointed look. “Well, someone doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.”

Matt raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything. Tyler’s just good at stirring the pot.”

“Damn right, I am,” Tyler said, not bothering to deny it. “Now spill.”

I rolled my eyes. “No big drama, just life doing its thing. We’re still the same troublemaking trio,” I joked, knowing that the title wasn’t exactly true now, having been bestowed upon us by our parents during childhood.

Tyler snorted, his smirk deepening. “That’s a throwback.” He shook his head. “So lame. What was that—fourth grade? When we were still terrorizing the neighborhood?”

“Right when puberty ruined everything,” I quipped, grinning. “You only remember fourth because you were still in that awkward phase where you thought ‘cool’ meant wearing sunglasses indoors.”

Matt laughed, and Tyler narrowed his eyes at me, then directed it at Matt until his laughter reluctantly faded out. “It worked.”

“It didn’t,” I countered. “But, hey, points for commitment.”

Tyler shook his head, leaning back against the woodpile. “Whatever. More like puberty and the fact that Matt was incapable of staying out of a long-term relationship,” Tyler teased, earning an uncomfortable laugh from Matt.

I raised an eyebrow at Matt. “He’s got you there.”

Matt groaned, running a hand over his face. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

Tyler crouched down, reaching into the cooler at his feet. Pulling out a bottle, he held it up toward me. My first instinct was to refuse, irritation building—I’d made it clear years ago that I didn’t drink—but then I noticed the label.

Root beer.

Relief washed over me, and I smiled gratefully, taking the bottle of my favorite soda from his hand. I was glad that our time apart didn’t change things so drastically that he’d try and peer pressure me. “Didn’t think I’d show up,” I mocked his words back at him playfully. I lifted the bottle in a cheers gesture, before taking a sip. “Thanks.”

Tyler shrugged. “Figured I’d grab your favorite when Caroline mentioned Elena was coming. You can be predictable like that,” he teased.

“Predictable?” I raised an eyebrow, pretending to be offended. “Please. I’m full of surprises.”

“Sure you are,” he deadpanned, taking a swig from his own bottle. “You keep telling yourself that.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. It was moments like these—effortless and familiar—that reminded me why I’d missed this.

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As the night progressed, something caught Tyler’s attention, pulling him away from our conversation about what we’d all been up to over the summer. I decided to make my way back to Bonnie, a little too toasty from being by the fire, while Matt tagged along. Caroline was with her, sending jealous glances over at the bridge.

Ah, damn it. Now I’m gonna have to deal with Matt and his hurt puppy eyes, too—I quickly realized after noticing it was Elena and Stefan on the bridge, looking very cozy next to each other. Maybe I could get them to move if I threw some rocks…

“There you are,” Bonnie smiled at us. “Hey, Matt.”

“Hey,” he greeted back.

I leaned in to whisper to her while looking at Caroline. “She okay?” Bonnie made a face.

“How do you think it’s going?” Caroline asked, kind of frantically, as she glanced at the bridge again. I groaned. Her drunkenness was obviously making her even less considerate, considering Matt was now standing right next to her. He followed her line of sight, frowning when he spotted them.

“I’m gonna, uh, get another beer…” he trailed off, walking away from us with his full bottle.

“Good going, Caroline,” I hissed.

“What?” she asked, face completely confused and ignorant.

I shook my head. “What is the big deal with this guy anyway…?”

“What are you talking about? He’s hot! How can you not find him attractive?” Caroline countered.

“Yeah, Em, you seemed to like him when he was known as just Mysteriously Hot Back Guy,” Bonnie teased, chiming in.

I rolled my eyes. “That was before his name was revealed and he stopped being a mystery and became nothing but a stalking nuisance.”

“Wow, you’ve already gone as far as calling him a stalker. You must really not like him, huh?” Bonnie inquired in amusement, clearly not taking me seriously.

“Oh please, Em is just overreacting, as usual,” Caroline added. She suddenly perked up, fixing her hair quickly and flashing a charming smile. “And now it’s my time to shine.” We followed her gaze, noticing Stefan leaving Elena alone on the bridge. “Wish me luck!”

Bonnie and I glanced at each other.

“This is going to be a disaster.”

Bonnie nodded in agreement.

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A moment later, I split off from Bonnie, leaving her to deal with the mess that was Caroline. The blonde had just been flat-out rejected, and while I wasn’t exactly Caroline’s biggest fan, even I thought Stefan had been a little too harsh. I’d caught the tail end of their conversation, and it didn’t sit right with me.

Yeah, Caroline could be a lot to handle, but we grew up together. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that. So, really, Stefan had just given me one more reason to dislike him.

This guy had a serious knack for flip-flopping my opinion of him.

I sighed, shoving my hands into my pockets as I wove through the crowd. The noise, the drama—it was all starting to get to me. Exactly what I’d been trying to avoid by staying home.

If I was going to survive the rest of the night, I needed a breather. Some peace and quiet. The riverbank sounded like the perfect escape, so I slipped past the bonfire and into the trees, letting the crisp night air cool my frayed nerves.

The further I walked, the calmer I felt. The loud chatter and crackling fire faded behind me, replaced by the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional snap of a twig underfoot. I let out a slow breath, taking in the stillness of the woods.

By the time I realized there was another set of feet besides by own crunching the leaves on the ground, I had already run into the culprit after circling a particularly large tree.

“Hey! Watch it!” The feminine voice was familiar. I squinted my eyes until they adjusted to the figure in front of me, recognizing Matt’s sister.

“It’s dark out. Kinda hard to watch it,” I deadpanned.

Vicki realized it was me, letting out an annoyed groan. “Great, another Gilbert. You here to save me too?” Vicki slurred a little and I could smell the alcohol on her breath. I wondered how much she had to drink tonight. “Did Jeremy tell you to talk to me? You know, just because I like you more than Elena, doesn’t mean I’m suddenly going to give you a heart to heart.”

I furrowed my brow. “Jeremy?” What nonsense was she talking about? I crossed my arms, confused by Vicky’s seemingly random accusations. “No one sent me, Vicki. I’m just trying to get a break from the crowd. Maybe you should go find Matt, I’m pretty sure he’s back by the bonfire.”

She scoffed, suddenly angry. “As if I’m going to risk being around Tyler again.” Vicki started walking away, stumbling a bit on a random fallen branch. “Just leave me alone.”

I signed, but didn’t follow after her when I saw she was heading back towards the party. I decided to send Matt a quick text about the state of his sister.

“Thnx 4 the heads up…” He replied a few seconds after.

Poor guy. I felt bad, knowing it would probably ruin his night, but I knew I’d want him to do the same for me if it was Jeremy. Speaking of, I decided after I had a few minutes to myself, I’d go find my brother in case he really was here. I didn’t want to entirely dismiss Vicki’s drunken rambling.

I made my way carefully down to the river, finding a big rock to sit down on. The rushing water luckily drowned out most of the voices. Letting out a deep breath, I tilted my head back to gaze up at the stars. There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the quarter moon shined brightly in clear view. The wind was light, and the autumn chill wasn’t quite upon us yet. It was a nice night to be outdoors, I could admit as much.

Regardless of how beautiful the night appeared, I couldn’t help my thoughts from going down a more solemn path.

To be honest—I didn’t want to be here, in Mystic Falls. The feeling only seemed to grow stronger once I was forced back into my old routine. Each day in this town was only proving to be more challenging.

I was just so ready to move on. Move on from the grief, move on with my life, and start fresh. And I’ve had this nagging sense that if I didn’t leave soon, I may never get the chance.

But let’s face it, even if I wasn’t a minor, I knew I wouldn’t leave without my family, not while they were still struggling. I’ve considered bring up the idea to Jenna before; my aunt never wanted to move back here anyway. We could live closer to Whitmore, Jenna wouldn’t have to commute to college every day and it wasn’t as if money was an issue. But just thinking of Elena’s reaction to the idea of moving made me cringe. Jeremy probably wouldn’t like it too much either, but our sister definitely had the most to lose if we moved. I felt guilty at the thought of leaving Matt behind, but it’s not like we couldn’t visit each other…

Of course, for all I knew, moving might only prove to set them back even more. Though the need to leave still persisted, I could admit I felt a sense of dread at the thought of losing all the memories we made with our parents in that house.

Sighing, I picked up a broken fragment of the rock, tossing it into the flowing water. The satisfying plop served as a small rebellion against the weight on my shoulders.

A terrifying scream sounded somewhere behind me in the woods. Startled for a brief second, I immediately jumped into action, running back up the slope and out of the woods, towards the crowd of frantic people.

I scanned the faces, spotting Bonnie, and quickly headed towards her for some answers. “What’s going on?”

But Bonnie didn’t need to answer, as I could already see Matt’s older sister unconscious on one of the picnic tables in front of us, a terrifying amount of blood on her neck and soaking into her clothes.

“Oh my god, Vicki!”

“It’s her neck. Something bit her! She’s losing a lot of blood,” Elena alerted them, her face worried as Matt, and to my surprise, Jeremy, hovered over Vicki, expressions terrified and frantic.

At Elena’s words, I rushed over to them without a second thought. “Bonnie, call 911!”

I pulled my sweater off to apply pressure to Vicki’s wound, directing them to help re-position her to stop the bleeding.

“Keep her awake,” I instructed, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Look at me, Vicki! Come on! Open your eyes!” Matt shouted desperately, keeping his eyes locked on his sister bleeding out before him.

In the chaos, I just focused on doing what I could to help Vicki. Blood was soaking through my sweater fast, too fast, and it was all I could think about—how we needed to stop the bleeding now. My heart pounded in my ears, but I forced myself to stay calm, pressing down harder. “Come on, Vick, stay with us,” I muttered, glancing at her pale face. Matt was still shouting her name, panic thick in his voice, but I tried to tune it out. One of us had to keep it together.

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The ambulance, thank god, didn’t take too long to reach us. Matt left with them to the hospital, staying by his sister’s side. I had just enough time to get his keys, promising to take his truck home for him in case it got impounded for sitting here all night.

I released a shaky breath, scanning the crowd of teenagers and officers for my siblings so I could let them know we had a way home. Caroline freaked at the sight of the police cars, afraid her mom was a part of them and not wanting to be caught drunk. Bonnie took it upon herself to take her home already, probably saving both Forbes women a massive headache.

Even if Liz wasn’t on duty tonight, it wouldn’t take long for word to reach her about something this big. Part of me wanted to look for her—try to make sense of whatever had just gone down—but I stopped myself. Even if I found her, I doubted I’d get answers this early, assuming she’d even tell me.

Finally, I spotted siblings, Jeremy looking devastated as Elena clearly was trying to put some sense into him as gently as possible. But it didn’t look like it was happening, neither of them could see each other’s side.

I caught the last bit as I reached the two. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t have wanted this,” Elena said quietly, shaking her head softly.

It made me wonder for a second, what it was that Mom and Dad would have wanted then. If I convinced my family to move, would my parents approved of it? Or would they tell me I wasn’t truly seeking a fresh start, I was simply running away? And did it even matter anymore?

They were dead, and we were on our own now.

“Found us a way home without having to call Jenna,” I announced, drawing their attention as I held up the keys. “Was able to get Matt’s keys—didn’t want him to leave his truck here all night.” Elena nodded, still solemn, and went ahead of us to the truck.

I glanced at Jeremy out of the corner of my eye. He followed behind us at a slower pace, the alcohol now hitting him strong after all the chaos settled. As the paramedics took over caring for Vicki, it dawned on me. Jeremy’s reaction made it clear he had a thing for Vicki, and hearing her bring up my brother’s name in the woods earlier, now solidified it for me. I couldn’t believe I never noticed before. The times I caught them talking at the Grill over the summer didn’t strike me as odd, so I hadn’t connected the dots. But now, seeing him like this… I didn’t know how to feel.

Vicki was Matt’s sister. Older sister, so therefore even older than Jeremy. I wasn’t exactly the best influence, so I felt it meant something when I thought someone else was worse. I knew my brother well enough to know he wouldn’t accept my warnings and would only push me away if I tried. Like he did with Elena and Jenna. Besides, it wasn’t my place to tell him who he could and couldn’t be with. Hence, why I never told Elena I didn’t think she should be with Stefan.

“Hey,” I started softly. Jeremy half glanced at me with hooded, tired eyes. “She’s going to be alright. We’ll go see her in the morning, before school, check up on how she’s doing.” I put just a little emphasis on the school part, in order to make it clear that was a part of my condition for taking him. I’d need to pick up some clean clothes for Matt too, knowing he couldn’t afford to miss a day.

Jeremy nodded silently. I rested my hand on his back, rubbing it comfortingly as I leaned my head on his shoulder. There was nothing to do now but go home and get some rest.

The drive back home was quiet, the weight of the night’s events hanging heavily in the air. Elena sat in the middle, resting her head back, lost in her thoughts. Jeremy kept his eyes glued out the passenger window, his silence echoing the somber atmosphere. Even I knew there was nothing I could say to lighten the mood.

Pulling into the driveway, I parked Matt’s truck, the engine turning off with a heavy sigh. We all stepped out, the cool night air doing little to alleviate the tension. Elena headed straight for the front door, and Jeremy trailed behind her.

Once inside, the house was unnervingly quiet. Jenna must’ve gone to bed hours ago, blissfully unaware of the attack. Lucky her.

Elena gave Jeremy a small, sympathetic smile and a squeeze on the shoulder before heading upstairs. Jeremy stayed rooted at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the floor like it might give him answers. I pretended to fumble with my shoes, taking longer than necessary to untie them. When I heard Elena’s door click shut, I finally kicked them off, then stepped over to lean against the baluster next to him.

“You holding up okay, Jer?” I asked, keeping my voice casual but soft, not wanting to startle him out of his thoughts.

Jeremy’s head lifted, his eyes bloodshot and tired. “I don’t know, Em. This is so screwed up. Vicki… I wasn’t…” He trailed off, his voice cracking just slightly.

“Yeah, I know,” I said quietly, crossing my arms. “It’s a lot. Like, ‘How do I even breathe’ a lot.”

That earned me a faint huff of amusement, but the weight didn’t leave his shoulders.

Deep down, guilt twisted in my stomach. If I’d personally made sure Vicki got back to the party, maybe Jeremy wouldn’t be beating himself up right now. But then again, if I had, maybe both of us would be in a hospital bed—or worse.

“I should’ve stayed with her,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

“Don’t do that to yourself, Jer,” I said, my tone firm but kind. “There’s no way you could’ve known this would happen. Nobody could’ve.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking like he was carrying the weight of the world. I wanted to say something to fix it, to make it better, but there wasn’t an easy fix for something so sudden like this.

“But look,” I continued, trying to offer some kind of comfort. “Matt’s keeping me in the loop about Vicki. Tomorrow, we’ll check on her together, okay? One step at a time. Things might not magically be better, but I know she’ll pull through. She’s a tough cookie.”

Jeremy offered me a weak but appreciative smile. “Thanks, Em.”

I bumped his shoulder lightly with mine. “That’s what I’m here for. And hey, if you need to talk or just scream into the void, you know where to find me.”

He nodded, and I headed upstairs, intending to retreat to the solace of my room. After changing into pajamas, I sat on my bed, trying to sort through the swirling mess of emotions from tonight. But I’d barely had time to exhale when there was a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I called, having already expected it.

Jeremy poked his head in, looking hesitant. “Uh… Em? You mind if we, I don’t know, play some Call of Duty or something? I just…” He paused, shrugging awkwardly. “I don’t wanna be alone right now.”

I studied him for a second, noticing the way he was trying to act casual, like this wasn’t a big deal. But his eyes gave him away—tired, vulnerable, and in need of some kind of anchor.

“Sure, Jer,” I said, giving him a small smile. “It’s been a while since I whooped your ass at it anyway.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see about that.”

Prepared to get little sleep tonight, I followed him into his room, plopping down beside him on the floor as he booted up the console. The familiar hum of the system filled the room, followed by the music of the game.

We didn’t say much as we played. The rapid gunfire and explosions from the game provided a strange kind of comfort, a white noise that filled the spaces where words didn’t need to go. After a few rounds, I noticed the tension in Jeremy’s shoulders starting to ease. His aim improved, and I caught the faintest ghost of a smile when he managed to snipe me from across the map.

“Cheap shot,” I muttered, nudging him with my elbow.

“Get good, Em,” he quipped, his voice lighter now.

And just like that, for a little while, we weren’t thinking about hospitals or guilt or the fallout waiting for us tomorrow. For a little while, it was just me and Jer, battling it out on screen and finding comfort in our small pocket of normal in an otherwise messed-up night.

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Chapter Text

Three

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With a startled gasp, I woke up tangled in my blankets on the floor. Then groaned immediately after, moving to hold my side as I realized it was in pain from falling off the bed.

Why am I on the floor?

“Last call, Em. Get. Up,” came Elena’s surprisingly chipper voice.

I squinted my blurry eyes, seeing my sister towering above, holding onto the corner of my blanket. “Why’d ya do that?” I murmured, burying my head in the blanket.

“I’ve already tried three times to wake you up, and you wouldn’t.”

“Whaa… no you didn’t…” I yawned out, rolling onto my back and stretching my arms.

“Yes I— ugh. Really, Em? You’re the one who wanted me to wake you up early.” Despite the annoyance in her voice, I could see a bright smile on my sister’s face. I furrowed my brow at the contradicting sight. “This is the last call. I won’t wake you again.”

“Okay, okay. Getting up. For real,” I added at Elena’s pointed glare. Which was starting to look weird with the smile…

With more of a skip in her step than her usual stomp after attempting to wake me up, Elena went back through our adjoined bathroom.

“That… was unusual.” With a shake of my head, I looked outside the window. The sun wasn’t even up yet. The things I do for my friends…

With a mighty groan of effort, I stood up and quickly got dressed in jeans and my favorite Foo Fighter band t-shirt, then entered the bathroom to brush my hair and teeth before Elena took her shower.

When I was done, I went down the hall to knock on my brother’s door.

“Jeremy, you read—” Before I could finish, Jeremy swung the door open, walking right past me without a single glance.

“Let’s go.”

Okay, then… Good morning to you, too.

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Driving Matt’s truck felt a little surreal—like I’d stepped into a parallel universe where I was suddenly the reliable one. Jeremy sat in the passenger seat, his leg bouncing anxiously as we sped toward the Donovan house. I glanced at him briefly, the tension in his jaw and the way he kept clenching and unclenching his fists saying more than he ever would aloud.

When we arrived, I told him to wait in the truck. “I’ll be quick,” I promised, and he gave a stiff nod.

The house was eerily quiet as I stepped inside, making a beeline for the bedrooms down the hall. Matt’s room was surprisingly spotless for a teenage boy. His bed was perfectly made, clothes taken care of, and everything was in its rightful place—trophies from every sport he’d played lined a shelf, gleaming beneath a thin layer of dust, with his football gear stacked neatly underneath.

His school bag sat by the desk, thankfully already packed with textbooks, folders, and notes. My eyes lingered for a moment on a framed photo on the shelf—a younger Matt and Vicki grinning and hugging after his first football game. The sight of Vicki bloody and deathly pale flashed through my thoughts, but I brushed it off and focused back on the bag, adding a fresh outfit, deodorant, and whatever else I thought he might need. But as I turned to leave, my gaze landed on the door across the hall. With a sigh, I slipped into Vicki’s room.

Hers was the exact opposite—clothes scattered everywhere, an unmade bed buried under a tangle of blankets, and a graveyard of makeup products and crumpled receipts littering the dresser. A sticky-sweet mix of body spray and weed lingered in the air, making me wince. On her nightstand, next to an open bag of Sour Patch Kids, were a couple of empty prescription bottles that I tried not to think too hard about. Shaking my head, I grabbed one of her tote bags from the floor, and stuffed it with clean clothes I found in her dresser. She’d definitely want something decent to wear after getting discharged.

Back in the truck, I tossed the bag onto the seat between us. Jeremy glanced at it, clearly recognizing the girly design. He didn’t say anything, just gave me a small nod before looking back out the window. I caught the brief flicker of appreciation in his eyes, though, and figured I’d press my luck by pulling up to The Grotto a few minutes later for coffee and donuts. Jeremy didn’t argue—probably because I handed him a black coffee before he could complain about the wait. I even splurged on a matcha latte for myself because, frankly, I deserved it.

We certainly needed the caffeine today. Neither of us had gotten much sleep. After Matt texted sometime after midnight to say Vicki was stable, I’d barely managed to close my eyes. Jeremy was in the same boat, judging by the dark circles under his eyes and the way he practically inhaled his coffee during the drive to the hospital.

When we finally got to the receptionist desk, the nurse there didn’t seem inclined to let us visit. Her tight smile screamed rules are rules. Jeremy was very close to blowing up at her.

“Visiting hours don’t start until eight,” she said firmly.

Jeremy’s voice was tight. “But we have to be in class by then—”

“Hospital policy,” she interrupted, clearly unimpressed by his argument.

This was not going to end well. Sensing Jeremy’s temper about to snap, I stepped in with a tragic, disarming smile. “Oh, come on. Please? Five minutes, tops. You wouldn’t want to be the reason two traumatized students miss school after such a horrible event, would you?”

Her lips pursed, but I could see her resolve wavering. There it was—the guilty downturn.

She looked around briefly, then sighed. “Alright, fine. But ten minutes only.”

“Thank you so much!” I said, giving her my best you’re the true hero here smile. We followed her instructions to Vicki’s room, Jeremy shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

“What?” I asked, glancing at him.

“Still good at guilt-tripping people, huh?”

I grinned, unable to resist the smug tilt of my head. “What can I say? Middle child syndrome. Had to have some skill up my sleeve to survive you and Elena.”

Jeremy snorted. “Yeah, and you’re still abusing your powers, apparently.”

“Abuse?” I gasped in mock offense. “Excuse you, I use my powers for the greater good. It’s basically a superhero thing. With great power comes great responsibility, you know. And I am very responsible.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You stole that from Spider-Man.”

“It’s not stealing. It’s recycling. I’m environmentally conscious. Another hero thing,” I said, sticking my tongue out at him.

Jeremy shook his head, but his lips twitched with the barest hint of a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re welcome,” I shot back, grinning. At least he seemed a little less tense now. Small victories.

When we reached Vicki’s hospital room, Matt was slumped in the chair beside her bed, his neck bent at an angle that made my neck hurt just looking at it. His head lolled slightly as he slept, dark shadows under his eyes hinting at just how rough his night had been. Jeremy immediately went to Vicki’s bedside, his eyes scanning her pale face and the clean bandage on her neck. Without all the blood from last night, she looked a lot better—still pale, but stable.

“Wakey wakey, eggs and bakey,” I chirped, swinging the bag of donuts in Matt’s face. He stirred, groaning softly as his eyes blinked open, glassy with sleep.

“Or donuts and coffee,” I added with a grin. “Which, let’s be honest, is a way better wake-up call. Except for the coffee, I mean. Blah!”

Matt sat up slowly, wincing as he rubbed the back of his neck. Before he could fully process what was happening, I shoved the disgusting coffee into one hand and a delicious donut into the other.

“Em, you came,” he mumbled, still half-asleep, then immediately yawned.

I scoffed. “Of course I came. If I have to suffer through school, so do you.”

He downed the coffee—probably cold by now, but he didn’t seem to care—and devoured the donut like a man starved. Before I could blink, he was already reaching for another.

“How’s she doing?” Jeremy asked, breaking his silence as he stood by Vicki’s side. I was actually surprised he’d waited this long to ask.

Despite being a little confused at my little brother’s presence, Matt just sighed heavily, looking over at his sister. “She lost a lot of blood,” he replied, running a hand through his messy hair. “The doctors want her to stay another night to make sure there’s no infection, but she’s gonna make a full recovery.”

Jeremy nodded, his attention back on Vicki’s sleeping form. Matt didn’t push for an explanation about why Jeremy was here, and for that, I was ridiculously thankful. I wasn’t in the mood for explaining that one.

After polishing off his second donut, Matt stood up and turned to face me. He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m so sorry for ignoring you, Em.”

I rolled my eyes again, but there was no real heat behind it. “You already apologized last night, Matt.”

“Yeah, I know.” He shifted on his feet, looking down briefly. “But I also know how much you hate drunken confessions, so… I wanted to say it again. Sober.”

His voice dropped, quieter now. “The doctors said if it wasn’t for your quick thinking last night, Vicki would be in a lot worse shape—”

“Okay, that’s enough of the gloomy talk,” I cut him off, shoving his shoulder. He blinked, startled, and I grinned cockily. “What can I say? Dad was a doctor. Of course I inherited his awesomeness.”

Matt chuckled, but he still didn’t look directly at me, and honestly, I was glad. It gave me a second to school the guilt off my face. No matter how much he told me it wasn’t my fault, I couldn’t stop replaying the events of last night in my head. But the last thing I wanted was to pile my guilt onto his.

“It’s all good, Matt,” I said, forcing a lighter tone. “Vicki’s fine now, and she’s going to stay fine. Now it’s time to focus on you.” I tossed his bag at him, and he caught it clumsily. “Get changed. You’re driving us to school.”

“Thanks, Emie.”

“Anytime.”

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The ride to school was quiet. Even though I wanted to fill it by asking about the animal attack on Vicki and if the police had made any progress, I held my tongue. The last thing Matt needed was to spiral into a bad headspace right before school began.

As we walked up to the entrance together, Elena descended upon us like a hawk spotting prey. Jeremy took one look at her and bolted, clearly not in the mood for her interrogation. At least he was heading into the building and not away—I considered our deal done.

“Why didn’t you tell me you and Jeremy went to the hospital?” Elena demanded. “I would’ve gone with you.”

I groaned inwardly. Tell the truth, or don’t tell the truth?

Elena put her right hand on her hip, her eyes narrowing in that don’t even think about lying to me way she had.

Lie it is.

“Wouldn’t have been enough room in the truck,” I said with a shrug, trying for nonchalant.

Her eyes narrowed further. “Then why did you invite Jeremy and not me?”

“He wanted to come,” I explained. “Jer was the one who found Vicki, after all. Plus, we needed you to bring the car so we’d have a way home later. I’m not up for walking today.”

Elena pursed her lips, a telltale sign she knew she was being lied to. Thankfully, she dropped it, probably because Matt was standing awkwardly beside us and she didn’t want to be rude.

“How is she?” Elena asked, her tone softening.

I took my chance to escape, backing up slowly. “I’m gonna head to my locker—catch you two later!” I waved over my shoulder and made a swift retreat into the school before Elena could press further or, worse, Matt could thank me for the millionth time.

A moment later, I spotted Bonnie and Caroline a few steps ahead and picked up my pace to catch them. I arrived just in time to hear Caroline ask, “So I’m confused. Are you psychic or clairvoyant?”

“Yer a witch, Bonnie!” I shouted in my most terrible British accent, jumping between them. Both girls startled, their faces a mix of surprise and irritation.

“Emery!” Caroline glared, swatting me on the arm as I grinned triumphantly.

Bonnie shook her head, though I caught the corner of her mouth twitching.

Too easy.

“Technically, I guess,” Bonnie admitted, easily fitting me into their conversation. “At least, that’s what Grams keeps saying. Apparently, my ancestors were these really cool Salem witch chicks or something. Grams tried to explain it all, but she was looped on the liquor, so I kinda tuned out. Crazy family, yes. Witches? I don’t think so.”

I turned to Caroline, nodding sagely. “Don’t listen to her—she’s totally a witch. She just won’t admit it because she knows we’d abuse her powers to do our homework and get us free food.” I nodded at my reasoning, before realizing I could tie in another Harry Potter reference. “Oh! And it’s against the law. The Ministry of Magic would have her head if she told us muggles.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes, shaking her head at the last part. “Yes, because obviously those would be at the top of my to-do list if I were a witch.”

“Yeah, well, feel free to add conjuring the name and number of that guy from last night to the list,” Caroline interjected, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

I leaned toward Bonnie, stage-whispering, “A new victim already?”

Bonnie snorted in amusement.

“I heard that!” Caroline sang, shooting me a look. I grinned innocently, standing straight.

“I never saw the guy,” Bonnie said with a shrug. “Why didn’t you just talk to him?”

Caroline’s face fell slightly as she gave her own shrug. “I don’t know. I was drunk.”

I raised an eyebrow. In that case, it was probably for the best.

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I sat in the brightly lit art studio for my Painting III class, surrounded by the faint scent of acrylic and oil paint, mingling with the stronger smell of turpentine. The room hummed with quiet energy—brushes tapping against palettes, the rustle of canvas fabric, and bursts of laughter and chatter from a group near the back. My eyes were fixed on the blank canvas in front of me, its stark white surface mocking my lack of inspiration.

I dipped my brush onto the palette, swirling colors into half-hearted mixes as I tried to coax an idea to life. The first assignment of the semester was supposed to be a self-expression piece, but all I could express right now was frustration. Nothing I thought of felt right, and the harder I tried, the more my mind rebelled. It didn’t help that I’d left my sketchbook filled with all my potential ideas at home this morning—a rookie mistake, and one I knew better than to make.

A flash of movement caught my eye.

A few easels away, a group of guys were talking loudly, tossing paint tubes back and forth like they were at gym class instead of an art studio. One of them called out for a specific color, and another responded by launching it across the room. Their laughter rang out, careless and free, punctuated by jokes and half-hearted protests when a throw went wide, and I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. Not at their questionable paint-throwing skills, but at the ease with which they seemed to exist here. Though, let’s be real—most of them were probably just goofing off. Sharing the studio with beginners was one of the perks of taking advanced classes. Nothing like working alongside people who signed up for an easy A rather than any actual passion for art.

I tried not to scowl as one tube flew over my easel, wishing our teacher, Sonia, would return from wherever she disappeared and put these idiots in their place.

With a frustrated sigh, I turned back to my canvas and dipped my brush into a deep Prussian blue, hoping that maybe the color would pull something out of me. But just as I was about to make my first deliberate stroke, a rogue tube of paint shot through the air, colliding with my hand.

The brush slipped, and a jagged streak of blue slashed across the pristine canvas like some kind of bad abstract painting.

“Oh damn! My bad, Emery,” a voice called, dragging me out of my stunned silence.

I looked up to see Levi—a guy I recognized from last year’s Sketching class—hurrying over with his hands raised in surrender. His usual easygoing grin was replaced by a sheepish look as he bent to pick up the offending paint tube. “Seriously, I didn’t mean to—uh, launch an assault on your masterpiece.”

I blinked at the canvas, the jagged line of blue splitting its once-pristine surface. “Masterpiece?” I muttered, deadpan. “Sure, let’s go with that.”

Levi straightened, clutching the paint tube like it might fly across the room again. “I’m really sorry.” His voice carried enough sincerity to take the edge off my irritation, but I couldn’t stop the frustration bubbling up. Not necessarily at Levi—it wasn’t like he’d meant to interrupt—but at the canvas now marred by an ugly streak.

Or… improved? At least it wasn’t blank anymore.

I gave him a curt nod, brushing off his apology and turning back to the canvas. Disappointment settled in my chest as I stared at the accidental mark, trying to decide how to work with it.

Levi, apparently undeterred by my lack of enthusiasm, leaned in to study my canvas. “Abstract touch? Bold move,” he teased, clearly relieved he hadn’t actually ruined a masterpiece.

I shot him a look, my lips twitching into a sarcastic smile. “Very avant-garde, I know. Watch out, modern art world.”

Levi chuckled, his confidence growing now that he could tell I wasn’t actually furious. “Let me guess—artist’s block?”

“What gave it away?” I retorted, dryly. I’d been stewing in frustration for so long that I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry at the accuracy of his observation.

“Just a hunch,” he said with a shrug, the laid-back grin creeping back onto his face. “And the fact that I haven’t seen you paint a single thing since the semester started.”

That caught me off guard. I raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you were keeping tabs on me, Picasso.”

“Hey, don’t flatter yourself,” he shot back with a smirk. “It’s just…you’re usually one of the first people to dive in. Kind of hard not to notice when you’ve been sitting there, uh, glaring at your canvas like it insulted your family.”

I frowned. It never occurred to me that someone might actually be paying attention to my work.

“You can’t force it,” he continued. “Sometimes, you’ve got to let the inspiration find you. Just go with the flow, let the paint guide you.” His waving hand and joking tone made it clear he wasn’t seriously attempting profound advice.

I let out a huff, though I couldn’t help but smirk at the ridiculous imagery. It honestly wasn’t too off from what I’d say to Jeremy about his art. Well, when he was actually creating, that was. “Wow, thanks for the motivational speech. I’ll be sure to credit you when I’m famous.”

“Anytime,” he said, giving me a mock salute before heading back to his easel.

I rolled my eyes. Turning back to my canvas, I studied the streak of blue. It wasn’t what I’d planned, but…maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing.

For the first time in days, I picked up my brush without overthinking it. Maybe I could turn this random mess into something after all.

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School was finally over, and I wove through the crowded hallways, dodging last-minute locker slams and half-hearted goodbyes, until I found Elena at her locker. She was rifling through her bag, her straight, glossy hair falling perfectly over her shoulder—seriously, who looked that good after a full day of school? I was a frizzy haired, red faced mess at this point.

“Hey,” I said, leaning against the locker beside hers. “Have you seen Matt? I haven’t caught him since we split up this morning, and he’s not answering my texts. Again.”

Elena froze mid-motion, then turned to face me, guilt practically written all over her face.

I narrowed my eyes. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t mean to, honest,” she said, holding up her hands like she was pleading her case in court. “He brought up Stefan, and I told him I didn’t want to hurt him by talking about it. I guess he decided to go back to the hospital to be there when Vicki wakes up.”

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “Of course he did. After everything I went through to make sure he’d actually show up to class today… Come on, Elena. You know he can’t keep skipping school if he wants to stay on the football team, let alone pass his classes.”

“I know, I know,” she said, cringing slightly. “But honestly? Did you really think he was going to make it the whole day without bailing?”

“That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have tried,” I muttered, folding my arms.

“Look, I really didn’t mean to mess things up. I’m sorry,” Elena said, her tone genuinely apologetic. Then, her face brightened. “But hey, we were planning to go grab coffee at the Grotto. You should come with us.”

I scrunched up my nose. Coffee wasn’t exactly my thing—it tasted like burnt dirt no matter how much sugar you dumped into it.

Elena laughed, clearly catching on. “I’ll buy you a milkshake to make up for my ‘mistake.’”

I huffed dramatically, seizing the bribe. “Well, since you offered…”

She rolled her eyes, linking her arm with mine as we headed down the hallway and to the parking lot.

At least I was getting a milkshake out of this mess.

But, by the time we all got to the coffee shop and settled at a table outside, drinks in hand, I was already ready to leave. The conversation had barely started when it took its inevitable nosedive. Bonnie had been talking about something genuinely cool—the upcoming comet and how it might be a harbinger of death, which was totally up my alley—when Caroline, predictably, derailed everything with boy drama.

“So then nothing, Caroline,” Elena stated plainly.

The blond tilted her head, skepticism radiating from her like a beam of sunlight. “You and Stefan talked all night, right? There was no sloppy first kiss? No touchy-feely of any kind?”

My sister shook her head, remaining focused on her drink. “Nope. We didn’t go there.”

I raised a brow. I hadn’t heard a single peep from Elena’s room last night and had no idea Stefan had even come over, let alone stayed so late. But that did explain why my sister had been in such an oddly cheerful mood this morning.

“Not even a handshake? I mean, Elena, we are your friends. Okay? You are supposed to share the smut.”

I resisted the urge to facepalm. Caroline’s ability to flip-flop between wanting Stefan for herself and encouraging Elena to “jump his bones” was truly something to behold. I sipped my milkshake loudly in an effort to drown them out, the sound obnoxious enough to draw their attention.

“What?” I asked when they all gave me pointed looks. “My milkshake is more interesting than this conversation.”

Caroline tossed her hair back, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Oh, you’re just jealous because your sister is getting some and you aren’t.”

I nearly spat out my drink. Elena looked just as mortified as I felt. The truth was, I’d never been in a long-term relationship—or at least, not anything I’d call “real” or “serious.” And honestly? I wasn’t particularly interested in trying for one anytime soon. My two past relationships—if you could even call them that—had been short-lived, neither lasting longer than two months.

“As if!” I scoffed. “Relationships are a drag.”

“C’mon, Care. You know that isn’t true. Em said herself she’s asexual.” Bonnie smirked, clearly teasing, and Caroline giggled.

I groaned internally, trying to keep my embarrassment off my face. That comment was still haunting me. I’d told Trey Wilson I was asexual after he asked me to prom for the tenth time last year. It wasn’t true, and they knew it, but I’d been desperate to get him to leave me alone. I was already fed up from my last relationship and had no interest as a sophomore going to prom with a senior. Predictably, he backed off the second he realized I wasn’t going to sleep with him. Unfortunately, these three had never let me live it down.

The reality was a lot simpler. Growing up in a small town, I’d known most of the boys since we were kids. It was hard to think of anyone romantically or otherwise when you could remember them shoving crayons up their noses in the second grade. I figured I’d give dating another shot in college—preferably far, far away from here.

Elena, my amazing sister, sacrificed herself by redirecting the conversation back onto her. “Really, though, Care. We just talked for hours. That’s it.”

Caroline threw her hands in the air like this was the most tragic news she’d heard all week. “Okay, what is with the blockage? Just jump his bones already! Listen, it’s easy. Boy likes girl, girl likes boy, sex.” She smirked, gesturing dramatically, like her hands were drawing out the scientific equation.

“How profound,” Elena remarked dryly, rolling her eyes. But then she went quiet, her expression shifting into something contemplative.

Elena stood suddenly, determination radiating from her like a switch had been flipped.

“Where are you going?” Bonnie asked, sharing a pleased knowing look with Caroline as Elena stood up.

“Caroline’s right,” my sister began. “It is easy. If I sit here long enough, I’ll end up talking myself out of it instead of doing what I started the day saying I was going to do.”

I slurped my milkshake loudly, speaking in my best monotone. “Woo. You go, girl.” Then I slurped again for good measure.

Elena smiled faintly, recognizing my unique way of showing support. It wasn’t for the whole Stefan part—gross—but for the fact she was taking charge. That, at least, I could respect.

But the moment she walked off, I realized something. I looked between Bonnie and Caroline. “Uh, one of you mind taking me home?”

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“I’m home!” I hollered into the house the moment I shut the door. Bonnie had kindly given me a ride after my sister abandoned me. Not that I blame her; she wouldn’t have left if she thought I’d be stranded.

“In the kitchen,” Jenna’s voice floated back, confirming I wasn’t alone.

I kicked off my shoes by the stairs with a huff and dropped my bag onto the floor in the same motion. It was future Emery’s problem now. Present Emery was starving!

The aroma hit me before I rounded the corner, and my spirits lifted immediately. “Ooh, tacos,” I exclaimed with delight, my stomach growling in anticipation.

“Help yourself. There’s plenty.” Without hesitation, I grabbed a plate and piled it high with as much as it could carry, before sliding onto the stool next to my aunt at the island. “ Jeremy didn’t want any,” she said with a despondent sigh as she leaned over the counter.

I paused mid-bite, tilting my head in exaggerated patience as I waited for her to elaborate. She seemed distracted, absently picking at a stray tortilla chip.

“I just don’t know how to get through to him,” Jenna blurted out at last, running a hand through her long, dark blonde hair in agitation.

I hummed thoughtfully, swallowing my bite. “You should’ve offered them when he was high.”

Jenna shot me the flattest, most unamused look I’d gotten all week, which was saying something. “Very funny, Em.”

I snickered, unable to resist. “I mean, I’m just saying. Stoner logic is a thing. Tacos are practically a peace offering at that point.”

“I’m being serious,” she insisted, though the faint twitch of her lips told me she appreciated the attempt at humor. “I went through the same rebellious phase when I was his age. But I didn’t stay stuck in it—I grew out of it, took responsibility for my life, and—”

“And now you’re responsible for ours,” I interrupted, my tone dry but not unkind. Jenna sighed again, clearly wrestling with something heavier.

“I don’t know how to make him see that I get it,” she admitted.

“Is that what you did?” I mumbled through a mouth full of food. Jenna raised her eyebrow at me in disgust. I swallowed before continuing. “You tried relating, didn’t you?”

Her wince said it all. “…Was that a bad idea?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Did it work?”

“No…” she admitted. “He disappeared the second I turned my back.”

“Then yeah, it was a bad idea,” I said bluntly, though I softened the blow with a small smile.

Jenna gave me another flat look, then groaned, resting her head against the counter dramatically. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Em. I really don’t.”

“What’s got you so hung up over this all of a sudden?” I asked, taking another bite.

She hesitated before answering, her voice low with reluctant frustration. “I had a conference today with Jeremy’s teacher—Mr. Tanner.”

Now it was my turn to groan, already bristling at the mention of the infamous Mr. Tanner.

“Apparently, Jeremy’s been skipping most of his classes,” Jenna continued, “and when he does finally show up, he’s higher than a kite. Tanner basically told me I’m not fit to take care of you three. He actually suggested I give you up to someone more ‘responsible.’” She practically spat the word, her hands clenched in frustration.

I narrowed my eyes, anger flaring in my chest. “Jenna, don’t listen to that guy. Tanner’s a massive douchebag. He lives for tearing people down—it’s practically his life’s work.”

“Language,” Jenna admonished half-heartedly. “But yeah, he was a douchebag. But he was a right douchebag, too. I’m doing a horrible job.”

“That’s not true,” I pressed, adamantly. Then I smirked, leaning into her. “I’d say two out of three is pretty good. That’s a solid success rate.”

“Ha-ha, Em,” Jenna said, but still cracked a small smile, so success!

“Don’t worry too much. Elena and I are looking out for him too,” I said, trying to sound reassuring. “I think I might’ve even succeeded in getting him to go to school today. At least for a while,” I added, murmuring the last part into my shoulder.

Jenna let out a soft sigh, her fingers absentmindedly drumming against the counter. “I really hope this is just a phase.”

“It probably is,” I replied, though I wasn’t entirely sure myself. “He just… needed a way to cope, I think. Not saying I have all the answers, but I do know being too pushy just shuts him down. At the very least, I just want him to know we’re there for him when he’s ready to talk.”

Jenna studied me for a moment, her hazel eyes—so similar to Mom’s and mine—softening with concern. “And what about you?” she asked, tilting her head slightly. “How did you cope? I feel like you picked yourself up so fast… before any of us could even blink.”

Her slightly furrowed brow hinted that she was fishing for something, but it wasn’t something I could easily explain, even if I wanted to.

I shrugged nonchalantly, taking a small bite of my taco. Swallowing, I replied with a playful tone, “Honestly? I think my secret weapon is a killer sense of humor and the unmatched talent of having absolutely zero filter. Keeps things light.” I wiggled my eyebrows in an exaggerated, teasing manner, hoping to deflect.

Jenna didn’t laugh. Instead, her lips pressed into a thin line, her brow furrowing slightly. “I know you’re good at speaking your mind, Emery. But if there’s ever something on your chest… you know you can always talk to me, right?”

I nodded, offering her a small smile. “Yeah. Thanks, Jenna. I appreciate you being here for us.”

She reached out and squeezed my hand gently. “I mean it. I know things have been tough lately… and out of all of you kids, I think I’ve checked in on you the least…”

“It’s okay. I get it,” I said softly, my gaze dropping to my plate. My mind wandered briefly to the summer we’d all barely survived—Jeremy’s spiraling, Elena’s fierce attempts to hold it all together, and Jenna stepping into a role none of us could’ve prepared her for. They were the ones who needed the most support, especially Jeremy being the youngest, and well, Elena…

Jenna nodded slowly, her eyes distant as if she were caught in her own memories. “I just want what’s best for all of you. Sometimes… sometimes I worry I’m not doing enough.”

I shook my head, sitting up a little straighter. “Jenna, all joking aside, you’ve done so much for us. More than we could ever ask for. We’re lucky to have you.”

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she blinked them away and smiled gently, not saying anything more on the topic. I understood her well enough to know that her doubts wouldn’t disappear overnight. I didn’t blame her, we both understood the feeling of never doing enough. But at least she knew how much we appreciated her, even if we weren’t the best at saying it outright.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, each lost in our own thoughts as I finished the last of my tacos, the steady tick of the clock on the wall filling the space. It wasn’t long before the sound started to grate on my nerves, but Jenna broke the quiet before I could say anything.

“So,” she said, her tone brighter now, “how was school today? Anything exciting happen?”

I chuckled. “Well, Elena finally got the balls to further her infatuation with Stefan.”

Jenna arched an eyebrow, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Oh? Do tell.”

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Later that night, I found myself sitting cross-legged on my bed, sketchbook propped against my knees. My pencil hovered over the blank page, tapping idly against it as if sheer willpower could summon an idea. And, once again, my sister came barging in before I could start anything.

Elena breezed in like she owned the place, and though I let out a long, exaggerated sigh, I couldn’t help the flicker of amusement that crossed my face.

I missed this. Missed her barging in without hesitation, as if the world would crumble if she didn’t vent to me about her latest existential crisis.

Still, I played the part. “Alright, what’s the rant about this time?” I asked, shoving my sketchbook to the side. My tone was dry, but the corner of my mouth twitched with a faint smile.

Elena flopped onto the bed beside me, her expression tight with frustration. “Stefan has a brother,” she blurted out, crossing her arms like the words were a personal insult.

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the actual problem to reveal itself. “Okay… and?”

“And he said he didn’t have any siblings,” she snapped, her voice laced with annoyance.

“No, he didn’t,” I countered, tilting my head. “He just said he doesn’t talk to them. So… what’s the real issue?”

Elena threw her hands in the air. Then, in a rush, she continued, “Well, it was clear today Stefan doesn’t talk to him. When I went to his house, his older brother—Damon—answered the door. He was all… charming, but when Stefan showed up, everything got weird. He wouldn’t even look at me, just glared at Damon the whole time. Like he wanted to set him on fire or something.”

Elena flopped backward onto the bed with a huff, her frustration palpable. I snorted. “So, the guy has sibling issues. Not exactly groundbreaking, Elena.”

She ignored me, her frown deepening. “Damon practically called me Stefan’s rebound,” Elena finally shared, her tone betraying a mix of hurt and confusion as she frowning at my ceiling.

“Wait—what?” I blinked, sitting up straighter.

That doesn’t sound right to me…

“I can’t believe I’m encouraging this but…” I murmured before continuing, looking down at her seriously. “Nothing about the way Stefan looks at you screams rebound. The guy’s practically in orbit around you, Elena.”

“According to Damon, he had a really hard time getting over his ex…” she muttered bitterly.

I groaned in frustration, running a hand through my hair. “Forget what the brother said. He’s clearly trying to get under Stefan’s skin, and he’s using you to do it.”

She didn’t respond right away, her lips pressing into a thin line. “…You’re probably right,” she said eventually. “But… I know what it’s like to lose someone. That kind of hurt doesn’t just go away.”

Her words were soft, but they carried a weight I recognized all too well. She wasn’t just talking about Stefan.

I laid back on the bed next to her. “Lena… if you don’t feel ready for a relationship, then don’t force yourself into one. It’s that simple.”

She turned her head toward me, her lips twisting into a frown, and I knew that wasn’t the answer she wanted. Elena always looked for validation—for someone to tell her she was making the right choice so she wouldn’t have to wrestle with uncertainty. Because it usually was something that she wanted. I used to be that person for her, back when she was dating Matt. I’d fed her all the reasons their relationship made sense, even when I had doubts of my own.

But things were different now. I wasn’t going to hold her hand through every decision anymore.

Funny how things had changed in that aspect.

I sighed, softening my tone. “I’m not going to give you the pros and cons and tell you what to do. Not this time. You have to figure it out for yourself. It’s not about what Damon says, or what Stefan feels, or what I think. It’s about what you want. So… what is it? Do you actually want to be with him?”

She didn’t answer right away. Her eyes drifted back to the ceiling, where the faint glow of the painted stars we’d done as kids still lingered. The silence stretched between us, heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, she let out a slow breath.

“You’re right,” she murmured. “I know you’re right, it’s just…” She trailed off, struggling to find the words.

I smiled faintly, recognizing that hesitation. “It’s easier to tell yourself ‘no, I shouldn’t’ than risk getting hurt?”

Her gaze flicked to mine, and she gave a small, wry laugh. “Yeah.”

“Look, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through. I mean, I can kinda understand how it may be, but I don’t know. I’ve never had guy problems like you.” I nudged her shoulder playfully, and she scoffed, rolling her eyes just enough to let me know she was still listening. “But what I do know is that it’s okay to let yourself want things, Lena. You don’t have to keep punishing yourself or pretending you don’t care.”

Because I knew the guilt she carried. It was written in every choice she made, every quiet moment she spent overthinking. And I hated seeing it tear her apart.

“Follow your heart and trust your instincts—like the Disney princess you are,” I added jokingly, grinning as I tried to end on a light note.

Elena’s eyes misted over, and for a second, I regretted my decision to tell her all of this. The last thing I wanted was to make her cry again. But then she let out a shaky breath, her lips curving slightly. “When did you get so insightful?” she teased, a faint sparkle of humor returning to her tone.

And at that, I knew she didn’t want me to be serious anymore. I let out a mock haughty laugh, smirking as I leaned into the moment. “Ha! I’ve always been insightful! I’m an artist. Looking at things in a new and unique way is literally in the job description.”

“Sure,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully, smiling for real this time. “Or maybe you’re just spending too much time around Sonia. Her philosophy tangents are rubbing off on you.”

I snorted. “That’s a possibility.”

But Elena’s smile faded slightly, and she leaned forward, gesturing to sketchbook. “Speaking of art… this is, what, the second time I’ve caught you with your sketchbook this week? It’s been months.”

I felt a pang of nervousness, absently twisting the ring on my right hand. “Yeah, I, uh, kinda made it my—goal, I guess, to get back into art. I have Painting III this semester, and I’ve been trying to come up with a draft for the first project. But it’s not really happening.” Despite finally getting myself to paint something during class today, it still wasn’t something that brought me joy, that felt like me. But it was nice to at least finally break the ice and create something.

Elena reached for the sketchbook, flipping through the untouched pages. “I can see that. Well, it’s nice to see you trying to get back into it,” she said gently. “Now if only Jeremy would start drawing again. Maybe it’d help him.”

I smiled faintly, the thought of Jeremy taking up his old sketchbook warming something inside me. We used to talk about someday making a graphic novel together. “Art is therapeutic, sure, but you can’t push it. It either flows, or it doesn’t. Forcing it just makes everything feel… unsatisfying. Hollow.” I felt a little amusement bubble up in me as I spoke, thinking back to Levi earlier today in class. “And honestly, that is about to become my problem if I don’t find some type of inspiration soon…”

“I’m sure you will. You’re just out of practice,” Elena encouraged, patting my hand with a smile. “Anyway, I better get to bed. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow. Caroline’s got me helping with the festival for the comet.”

I rolled my eyes. “And that is why I didn’t join the cheerleading squad. Caroline signs you guys up for all the events in this town. It’s exhausting.”

“That’s Caroline for you—an overachiever to her core,” Elena said, not sounding very enthused for a cheerleader herself. I furrowed my brow curiously at her attitude. “Okay,” she breathed out, standing up and walking to the door, “I’ll force you out of bed in the morning.”

“Ha-ha,” I laughed dryly.

Elena turned her head, smirking. “’Night, Emery.”

“’Night, Elena.”

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone with my sketchbook again. I stared at the blank page, willing something—anything—to come to me. Nothing did. With a frustrated sigh, I tossed the sketchbook onto the floor and flopped under the covers, reaching out to turn off my bedside lamp. The darkness was immediate, soothing in its own way.

Maybe tomorrow.

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Chapter Text

Four

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My day kicked off in its usual chaotic fashion. Elena resorted to shoving me out of bed when I refused to wake up to the music of my alarm clock, Jeremy maintained his customary indifference to our morning greetings, and Jenna rushed off to class in a frantic whirlwind.

Matt, thankfully, decided not to play hooky today, although the threatening text I sent him this morning might have been a contributing factor. It was quite funny to see him by his locker, nervously awaiting my approach, fully aware that he couldn’t evade me without breaking his promise. It probably didn’t help I was cackling madly the entire time, receiving weird looks from Elena and Bonnie as I broke away from the two.

“So, you decided to show your face in my school after all, huh, Donovan?” I interrogated in a mock deep voice.

Matt swallowed. “I was kinda afraid of what would happen if I didn’t.”

“Suffice to say, the correct decision was made, and you’ll be pleased to hear no punishment shall be dished out thanks to your wise choice in the matter,” I replied, steepling my fingers for extra effect.

Matt let out an exaggerated sigh of relief.

It didn’t take long for us both to crack, laughing loudly in the hallway.

I smiled at the jock. And then shoved him against his locker.

“Ow, Em!”

I scoffed. What a baby—it totally didn’t hurt him. “That’s what you get for leaving school yesterday. Before it even started.”

Matt instantly looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, Em. I really didn’t mean to take what you did for granted or anything…”

I waved my hand. “I’m not worried about that; I’m worried about you, dummy. You can’t miss school and hope to keep your grades up and play football, Matt.”

I caught the brief flash of surprise on his face before he looked down. “I just couldn’t do it, Em.”

My expression softened at the admission. “I understand, Mattie. Believe me, I do. And I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have insisted you go to school after something like that happening, it was really insensitive of me…” I acknowledged, feeling a twinge of guilt at not realizing sooner.

The first warning bell rang, and the students around us quickly scrambled to make it to class.

“How about we meet outside for lunch? I can at least help catch you up on the notes for History—and maybe I’ll attempt Algebra. Don’t want you getting behind when schools only just started.”

Matt smiled sheepishly. “Thanks, Em.”

I shrugged in reply, then changed the subject as we walked down the hall together. “So, how is Vicki doing?”

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“There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you, Emery!” Caroline’s shrill voice cut through the music as she yanked my earbuds out, accidentally tugging my piercings. I swiftly turned around, almost smacking the blonde with my black-streaked paintbrush.

“Caroline!” I hissed, holding the brush away from her butter-yellow sundress as I eyed her with irritation. “Do you have any idea how close you just came to getting a custom paint job?” She would’ve been a bumblebee in a matter of seconds.

Huffing, I dropped the brush into the murky water cup on the table. Of course, just when I’d found a moment to work on something—finally trying to focus without distractions—she showed up. So much for my brilliant plan to hole up in the art room after our half day of school.

“How’d you even know I was here?” I demanded, already bracing for whatever dramatic favor she was about to beg for. Because she never sought me out just to chat anymore—not like when we were kids.

She rolled her eyes like I’d asked her the dumbest question imaginable. “Please. Elena said you were staying after school, so obviously, I checked the art room first. It’s not like you’re subtle—always loudly declaring you’re an artist to everyone.”

Great. Thanks a lot, Elena. Way to sell me out to Caroline Forbes, queen of endless planning.

“What do you want, Caroline?” I sighed, crossing my arms.

Her perfectly manicured fingers twitched as her expression shifted to a mix of annoyance and panic. “Okay, long story short, Michaela and I had a falling out—don’t even ask—and now I have no one to run the face-painting booth for the comet festival at the park tonight.”

“Gee, I wonder what it is I can do to help you,” I commented flatly. I specifically gave up cheerleading because I didn’t want to help with all these events. Mystic Falls had way too many.

Caroline’s frustration flared as she spoke again, my sarcasm clearly having gone over her blonde head. “You’re literally an artist, Emery. You know how to paint faces. It’s not rocket science!”

I gave her a look. This blonde, I swear… “Yeah, sure, because I’ve just been dying to spend my free time painting on sticky five-year-olds’ cheeks,” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm this time. “Here’s an idea: don’t have face-painting. People will survive without it, Caroline. They’re there for the comet, not a glittery unicorn on their kid’s forehead.”

Her jaw dropped as if I’d suggested canceling the entire festival. “I can’t just not have face-painting! The flyers are already out. Elena and Bonnie handed them out yesterday! It’s too late to change anything now.”

And there it was—the wide, pleading blue eyes, the soft little pout. Classic Caroline manipulation tactics. Normally, I was immune to the nagging—I wasn’t swayed like Elena or Bonnie. But when she really turned on the pleading…

“Please, Emery? Pretty please?” she begged, clasping her hands dramatically in front of her. “I know you hate volunteering, but the festival’s funds can at least cover your art supplies! And I’ll owe you one. A big one.”

I stared at her, trying to hold onto my disinterested expression, hoping she’d break first. I wanted to say no. I really did. But a favor from Caroline Forbes was worth more than I cared to admit.

“Fine,” I muttered, already regretting it. “I’ll do it. But I’ll need to swing by my house to grab my kit first. What time do I need to be there?”

Caroline’s face lit up like Christmas morning. “Five o’clock! I’ll help you set up. The booth will only be open until dark, so you’ll still have time to watch the comet with the rest of us!”

“Yay,” I deadpanned.

She clapped her hands together and practically skipped out of the room, her blonde curls bouncing with triumph.

As the door swung shut behind her, I slumped back in my seat and glared at the plain, black painted canvas in front of me. It wasn’t like I was getting anything done here anyway. Painting class earlier had been a total wash, especially since it was a half-day—just a half hour of painting disembodied hands because apparently, that’s all I could manage lately. And now, instead of working through my creative block, I’d be spending my evening surrounded by screaming kids and glitter paint.

“At least it’s still painting,” I muttered to myself. “Sort of.”

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“I see Caroline roped you into working for her too,” Matt said, his voice laced with amusement as I finished painting the seventh butterfly of the evening on a little girl’s cheek. “She got half the football team to help with all the heavy lifting.”

“Roped, coerced, begged—whatever you want to call it,” I replied, wiping my brushes clean with a rag. “At least she owes me now. Next time she tries to recruit me for one of her events, I can, in good conscience, absolutely refuse.”

“That’s one way to work Caroline schemes in your favor.”

“Exactly,” I said with a smirk, shaking my makeshift tip jar filled with crumpled bills and loose coins. “And besides, she might not be paying me, but she didn’t say anything about tips. Parents will easily hand over cash if it means their kids leave happy. Call it entrepreneurial spirit.”

His blue eyes crinkled with laughter. “So you’re working her system and making bank on the side. Nice.”

I patted the empty stool in front of me. “Alright, your turn. Sit down before my hand cramps from painting another sparkly adorable thing. I need a break from all these fidgety, unoriginal brats. Elena and Bonnie refused to let me paint them. Losers.” I scoffed.

He mock-sighed, shaking his head but taking the seat anyway. “You’re gonna make a great mom someday, you know that?”

I recoiled as if he’d just insulted my very existence. “Ugh, don’t curse me like that, Matt! You know I’m destined to grow old with a hundred cats. Kids are Elena’s department, not mine.”

Matt grinned, rolling his eyes. “Right. How could I forget? The crazy cat lady destiny. Even though you’ve never had a cat.”

I stuck my tongue out at him. He knew very well how hard I tried to bring in strays, only to be immediately rejected by my parents when they found out.

“Someday, Mattie. Someday,” I mused dreamily. Grabbing my palette, I turned serious. “Alright, object or animal?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Animal. Something cool.”

For the next few minutes, I worked on a coiled green-and-black snake that slithered from his jawline up into his hairline, adding careful details to the scales and shadowing to make it look almost real. As I worked, a few kids gathered around, wide-eyed and whispering in awe at the intricate design.

“Hold still,” I ordered, using my smallest brush to finish the head. “You’re about to be the most terrifying thing at this festival.”

“Terrifying?” he remarked with a playful lilt, keeping perfectly still. “I thought you were going for cool.”

“Cool snakes are for amateurs,” I retorted, finishing the final touches before leaning back. “Alright, you’re done.” I held up a mirror so he could see.

Matt’s face broke into a grin as he admired the detailed snake coiling across his skin. “Sweet as always, Em.”

“Obviously,” I said, flashing him a grin of my own. “Now scram before Caroline realizes I’ve spent way too much time on you. Be free and spread my artistry to the masses!”

He hopped off the stool with a laugh, giving me a grinning salute before heading off in the direction of the Grill. As I watched him go, another fidgety little boy plopped onto the stool in front of me, eyes sparkling with excitement.

I sighed and picked up my brush again, hoping he’d go for something like the snake—oh, or maybe a shark would be cool, haven’t done one of those yet—and not another puppy or tiger.

At least the tip jar was looking good.

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The sun had dipped below the horizon, stealing the last traces of daylight and leaving just enough of a golden glow to filter through the trees and rooftops. The fluffy white clouds from earlier had vanished, replaced by a deepening indigo sky that promised a perfect view of the comet. Caroline was probably thrilled at how smoothly everything was going—no rain, no disasters, just picture-perfect ambiance for her event. The thought alone was enough to add a glimmer of excitement to the evening.

The steady stream of kids had finally dried up, so I figured it was time to start packing up my paints and brushes. Most of them were off with their families now—faces sticky with cotton candy and still wearing my handiwork—plopped on blankets or folding chairs, waiting for the big attraction to be seen clearly in the sky. It was a nice break from them zooming around like sugar-fueled maniacs. Not that it’d last. I’d already spotted the booth with small fireworks lined up, just waiting for nightfall to unleash chaos all over again.

Honestly, it hadn’t been as bad as I thought it would be. Painting faces wasn’t something I did often—well, not since that summer gig at the amusement park last year when we stayed at the lake house—but it came back to me easily enough. Kids weren’t exactly my forte, probably because I didn’t grow up around many, but they were tolerable when I was in my element. As long as they liked the results, they were happy. And let’s face it, kids weren’t exactly demanding critics. Butterflies, rainbows, puppies, superheros—it was all simple enough to keep me from messing up. And they didn’t have the patience for any re-dos.

I counted my tips, pleasantly surprised by how much I’d made. Enough to treat myself to dinner at the Grill and still have money left over. I’d been eyeing the food trucks all evening, thinking about grabbing something greasy and delicious, but Matt had texted earlier, telling me to meet him and Tyler at the Grill when I was done, so maybe I’d save the trucks for dessert. The thought of a decent meal and then a quiet spot to watch the comet sounded like the perfect way to end the night anyway.

But as I was savoring that plan, a shadow fell across my table.

“Got time for one more?” a smooth voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Depends on what you want,” I replied, wiping my brushes on the now multicolor rag. I wasn’t going to do anything complicated this late.

“How about something on the scary side? Creepy veins, bloody bite marks—maybe a touch of gore?”

The strangers request caught me off guard, and intrigue pulled my attention fully to him. And oh. Oh no—I did a quick double take, my hands faltering. He was handsome. The kind of handsome that made your brain short-circuit for a second. Wavy raven hair framed his sharp, angular face, and his striking, pale blue eyes gleamed with amusement beneath lashes so long they should’ve been illegal. He was wearing a leather jacket, of course—because of course he was—and based on the cocky half-smirk and confident demeanor, he certainly knew he was easy on the eyes.

Grinning, I threw my head back, clenching my fists up in delight at the thought of painting something darker and more creative. “Oh, that would be so awesome,” I admitted excitedly, but then my hands dropped limp in my lap as I sighed dramatically. “But I can’t. Caroline would kill me. Strictly kid-friendly, unfortunately. I’m saving the horror for Halloween.” Great, now I couldn’t help but wish my favorite spooky holiday would hurry up and get here already.

The man sighed just as heavily. “That’s a shame. Here I was, ready to rescue you from all the glitter and rainbows. You know, nothing cures cuteness overload quite like a splash of blood and gore.”

As if on cue, a little girl skipped by, swinging hands with her mom. The purple butterfly on her cheek still sparkled in the fading light as she giggled adorably, taking a big bite of fluffy pink cotton candy.

We both stared at the scene. Then, slowly, I turned back to him. He raised a brow as if to say, See what I mean?

I decided to play along. “Okay, you’ve got a point. Too much cuteness can be dangerous. So, what’s your plan? Use my fantastic face-paint skill to go on a bloody terror spree and put an end to it?” I joked, thoroughly entertained.

His eyes gleamed, clearly delighted I was playing along, as he waved his hand at me. “I really shouldn’t say. Gotta give you plausible deniability and all.”

“Wouldn’t they connect the dots?” I asked, tilting my head like I was genuinely concerned. “I mean, my work would be all over your face. Pretty incriminating.”

The stranger hummed and tapped his chin, pretending to think it over, before flashing his teeth, circling around my worktable to come closer. “You can always say I forced you to do it.”

I gasped theatrically, placing a hand over my heart. “I’d hate to get you into more trouble. It is my fault you’d have to stop the cuteness epidemic in the first place.”

“Don’t blame yourself too much,” he said with a mock-sigh, leaning on the table. “If it weren’t for people like you, I’d be out of a job.”

I deadpanned. “Glad to know I’m contributing to society.”

“Just think about how many murderers you enabled,” he mused.

“I should start a business. ‘Killer Face Paints: Helping Villains Look Their Best.’”

“I’ll be sure to leave a good review,” he promised, eyes twinkling with mischief.

We stared at each other for a moment. I broke eye contact first, unable to hold it in anymore as I bursting into laughter at the absurdity of it all. The leather-clad stranger smirked, clearly pleased with himself for breaking me.

“Damon,” he introduced himself, with a slow, self-assured curve of his lips that I could only describe as a mischievous smirk.

“Emery,” I replied, not missing a beat, my grin firmly intact as I held out my hand.

Instead of shaking it, he took my hand in his and, to my utter shock, lifted it to his lips in a brief kiss. His dark lashes framed his gaze as he looked up at me, his expression equal parts sly and charming.

“Pleasure to meet you, Emery,” Damon said, his voice soft and deliberate.

I blinked, momentarily stunned. Who does that?

I pulled my hand back from his grip, trying not to let on how awkward I felt at the unexpected contact, discreetly wiping it on the rag as I wiped down another brush. “So, did you actually want me to paint your face, or was this just some elaborate excuse for theatrics?” I asked, not buying it for a second as I squinted at him. There was no way he was serious about getting painted, but I hadn’t quite figured out what his real game was yet.

Damon’s gaze flicked to my supplies, where only a couple of brushes remained to be cleaned. “I’ll take a raincheck. The sun’s gone down anyway,” he said with a lazy shrug.

Figured. I pointed a finger at him. “I’m holding you to it. Not every day someone offers to let me make them all bloody.”

His lips twitched, amusement playing in his expression. “Stick with me, and it’ll become an everyday occurrence,” he teased, his tone hinting at some private joke I wasn’t in on.

Before I could retort, my stomach growled loudly, cutting through the moment. I chuckled sheepishly. “Sorry. Haven’t eaten since breakfast. I was planning to grab dinner at the Grill.”

Damon tilted his head like he’d just come to a revelation. “What a coincidence—I had plans to grab a drink there myself. I’ll walk you over.”

“Alright,” I accepted easily, figuring he’d give himself away soon or later.

Dumping the murky water, I crammed the cup and brushes into the side zipper before slinging my bag over my shoulder. I’d clean them properly when I got home.

As we started toward the Grill, I threw out, “So, I’m gonna go out on a stretch here and say you’re from out of town?”

Mystic Falls wasn’t exactly brimming with new faces, especially ones as striking as his. And while I didn’t keep up with gossip the way Elena and her friends did, I was pretty sure I’d remember someone like Damon.

“You got it,” he confirmed. “Visiting family.”

“Sounds boring,” I commented bluntly. Like seriously, visiting family in Mystic Falls of all places. Lamest thing.

His leaned in a little closer as we walked, as if about to tell a secret. “Terribly so. But Stefan would be absolutely lost without me.”

Bingo. I tilted my head. “Stefan Salvatore?”

“The very one. You know him?”

I nodded. “Yeah. He’s got the stalker hots for my sister.”

Damon practically choked on the air, but he quickly composed himself, instantly intrigued and amused by my blatant use of words. “Oh?”

“Yeah, total creep. His brooding stares into the distance are annoying too. It’s like he’s auditioning for the role of ‘most tragic man alive.’”

Damon let out a bark of laughter at that one. “Ah yes, certainly sounds like my little brother.”

“So I’m not imagining it, then? Everyone else seems to think he’s perfect—especially Elena. It’s nauseating.” I stuck my tongue out for emphasis, sidestepping a group of running children as we walked toward the Grill, all of them adorned with either butterflies or an adorable creature.

Damn, just not enough superhero requests this time… Damon was probably right. I likely was the reason murderers exist. Like with Batman and the Joker. I mentally giggled at the comparison.

“Mmm. No, you’re spot on,” Damon said with mock solemnity. “I’ve tried helping him, but the poor guy refuses to see reason. I’m afraid he might be beyond saving at this point.”

I let out another gasp. “You poor soul. It must have been difficult growing up with him,” I sympathized, trying to hold a serious face.

Damon wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “I had to stay strong for little Stef,” he lamented dramatically, shaking his head.

I couldn’t hold back snickering this time, and he smirked, breaking character as well.

“Nah, but seriously,” I began after reining myself in. “Must be real bad blood between you both. Had to do damage control after Elena met you yesterday.” I scoffed. “Rebound?” I shot him a sidelong glance. “Thanks for that by the way. Real classy move,” I said sarcastically, finally understanding why he had approached me to begin with.

He winked. “What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t interfere with his love life?”

“A good one,” I shot back with laugh, checking both ways before crossing the street.

“Ah, but we already established I’m not good,” he drawled, wiggling his brows in a way that was somehow both ridiculous and charming.

“And I’m an enabler,” I added with mock woe, throwing my hands up. “What difficult lives we lead!”

Damon let out an amused scoff at my act.

When we reached the Grill, the place was predictably packed. Between the comet viewing and its usual popularity, it seemed like half the town had decided to crowd in tonight. I scanned the tables, quickly spotting Matt and Tyler at one of the high-top booths off to the side.

“Welp, guess this is where we part ways,” I said, already angling toward my friends. “It was nice meeting you, Damon.”

“I could say the same.” Damon smirked, then gave a mock bow, drawing a few eyes around us. “Catch you later, Emery.”

He turned way, disappearing into the crowd near the bar, leaving me wondering just what he was playing at.

Until my stomach grumbled for food, that was.

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I dropped my bag on the floor and fell onto Matt when I reached the two, groaning loudly and almost making him knock his drink over. “Em! Hey, finally done, huh?”

“Hungry,” I moaned, my stomach rumbling loudly again. “Feed me.”

Matt laughed. “Did you eat anything today?”

“Of course she didn’t. If it’s not put in her face she’d never think to eat and would just starve to death,” Tyler commented from across the table.

“You!” I shouted suddenly, pointing my finger at Tyler. He stared back pointedly, unfazed. “You never came to my booth,” I complained with a pout. I abruptly grabbed Matt’s chin and turned his head to reveal the now smudged—what was this boy doing!?—but still identifiable snake. “This! This is what true friendship looks like! Right here.”

Tyler scoffed. “That’s because Matt’s a wuss when it comes to you. He doesn’t care about being your guinea pig—”

“Hey!” Matt interrupted indignantly.

“Besides,” Tyler continued, ignoring him. “I wasn’t gonna have Caroline spot me and order me to help for the stupid festival.”

I sighed, slouching into the booth as Matt scooched over to give me room. “Well, at least you got lucky there. She literally hunted me down. But it wasn’t all that bad, kinda missed face-painting.” I shrugged, as if it wasn’t a big deal that I had gone months without any real creative expression. Nope, not at all.

“You’re good at it. You should do it more often, Emery,” Matt encouraged.

I scoffed. “If only it was socially acceptable to walk around with face-paint on every day.”

“Don’t you already?” Tyler ribbed with a smirk.

I playfully swatted Tyler’s arm in response. It was only a year ago now that I started wearing makeup, but back then, the guys had a hard time wrapping their heads around it. Now, Tyler just used it as an excuse to get a rise out of me. “Hey, face-paint is different from makeup, okay? But don’t be mistaken—both are still considered art forms!”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, we get it, you’re an artist.”

I grinned, reminded of earlier today when Caroline mentioned how often I used to declare myself an artist. I missed embracing the title. “Damn right. A face-painting virtuoso, if you will.”

Matt chuckled after taking a sip of his drink. “You did have a long line at your booth. People enjoy your work. I’m glad your getting back into it.”

“Well, who doesn’t love turning into something they’re not for a day? It’s a mood lifter.” Despite the complete opposite conversation I had with Damon about it earlier—no matter how cringey or childish or sparkly it might seem—I truly believed it.

Tyler leaned back against the booth, lazily scanning the Grill before fixing me with a teasing grin. “Speaking of mood lifters, where’s your new friend? The one you were clearly hitting it up with outside.”

I arched a brow, not taking the bait. “You noticed that?”

Tyler smirked, nodding to the windows that would’ve gave them a clear view of us talking by the entrance. “Hard not to. The whole Grill noticed. Strangers stick out in this town—especially one with enough balls to actually chat you up.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re reading way too much into it. He’s just some guy passing through, visiting family or whatever. Nothing exciting.”

Matt grinned, nudging me with his elbow. “Come on, I never see you willingly talk to a guy you don’t know, let alone allowing them to walk you somewhere.”

Feigning innocence, I shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We just both happened to be walking in the same direction. Totally coincidental.”

Tyler laughed outright. “Wow, you’re a terrible liar.”

With a dramatic sigh, I decided to give them enough to chew on so they’d leave me alone. “Fine. His name is Damon, alright? He’s visiting Stefan—his little brother, apparently.”

Matt’s eyebrows shot up, his expression shifting into something uncomfortable. “Stefan Salvatore? Seriously?”

“Yep,” I said, popping the P. “The very same. Though I’m pretty sure Damon is the black sheep of the Salvatore family. He’s got that whole cocky, devil-may-care attitude. You know, the polar opposite of Stefan’s broody, tortured-hero shtick.”

Tyler and Matt exchanged one of their classic “guy looks,” a silent conversation I couldn’t interpret and didn’t care to. I rolled my eyes again. Boy logic probably dictated that Damon was an enemy, considering his brother was all over Elena while Matt was still very much not over her.

“So,” Tyler said slowly, leaning forward. “Is he trouble?”

I shrugged, my interaction with Damon still fresh in my mind. “Hard to say. He’s charming in an annoyingly smug way, and definitely likes to egg his brother on, but no obvious red flags. Yet.” I paused, narrowing my eyes at both of them. “And don’t you dare mention this to the girls. I swear, if they find out, they’ll blow it way out of proportion, and I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Tyler tapped his chin, a smirk creeping onto his face. “Well… I might be persuaded to keep my mouth shut. For a price.”

I groaned. “What’s the catch?”

“You be my date for the Founder’s Day party.”

“Absolutely not.” My response was immediate and absolute, already catching onto his intentions. “I’m not playing pretend just to make you look good in front of your parents.”

Tyler leaned forward, trying to look earnest, though the effect was dampened by him being—well, him. “Come on, Emery. My parents won’t stop bugging me about showing up with someone ‘respectable.’ We walk in together, say hi, and then you’re free to ditch me.”

“I don’t even want to go, Ty.” I gestured toward Matt. “He’s not even going this year.”

Matt laughed, clearly enjoying the show. “I still can’t believe Mrs. Lockwood approves of you, Emery. You’re basically the opposite of everything she stands for.”

“I know, right?” I said, throwing my hands up in bafflement. “Guess I peaked as a kid when I was all polite and helpful while our moms were busy planning Founder events. That goodwill is carrying me way further than it should.”

Tyler gave me a pleading look, now attempting to play the sympathy card. “Emery, please. It’s just for show. I’ll owe you. Big time.”

I sighed, contemplating his proposition. After Caroline, it felt kinda nice having people owe me. “Fine, but only because you owe me. And just so you know, if your parents start asking about our ‘relationship,’ I’m not covering for you. In fact, I’ll do the exact opposite and embarrass the hell out of you.”

Tyler grinned, completely unfazed by my threat. “Deal. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Man, I almost want to go now, just to see the look on your mom’s face when she sees you together,” Matt said with a grin.

I frowned at him, annoyed that I wouldn’t have him to fall back on at the party. He had gone with Elena last year, and I knew that put him off from going this time. “Next thing you know, she’ll be planning your wedding.”

I shot him a glare. “You better watch it, Donovan, or you might find yourself in need of a face-painting session with extra glitter.”

Tyler leaned back, laughing. “I’d pay to see that.”

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By the time my food was ordered and brought out, Elena, Bonnie, and Caroline showed up, chatting loudly as they crowded the table with us. I tuned them out, more interested in the cowboy burger sitting in front of me. For once, I was ready to prioritize my stomach over everything else.

Unfortunately, that plan went out the window when Jeremy came rushing up to the table, looking concerned. His wide eyes and the tension in his shoulders set off alarms in my head. I froze mid-bite, the burger slipping from my hands and landing on the plate with a soft thud.

“Has anyone seen Vicki?” Jeremy asked, his voice tight with worry.

Tyler, ever the king of tact, barely spared him a glance. “You’re her stalker. You tell us,” he said coolly before turning back to his conversation with Matt.

Matt, however, didn’t seem so nonchalant anymore. His head whipped around at the mention of his sister, concern flickering in his eyes. “What do you mean? You can’t find her?”

“I’ve looked everywhere. She’s gone.” Jeremy’s voice cracked slightly, and my stomach churned.

Tyler rolled his eyes, leaning back like this was the most annoying conversation he’d had all week. “She probably found someone else to party with. Sorry, pill pusher, looks like you’ve been replaced.”

My foot shot out under the table before I could stop myself, catching Tyler square in the shin.

“Ow! What the hell, Emery?” Tyler glared at me, rubbing his leg.

“You deserved it,” I retorted harshly.

“What’s with the ‘pill pusher’ comment?” Elena demanded, her protective big-sister mode kicking in. Her eyes narrowed on Tyler like she was ready to tear answers out of him.

“Ask him,” Tyler growled, still nursing his shin.

Jeremy’s face flushed, incredulous anger replacing his earlier worry. “You wanna do this right now?”

Tyler ignored the challenge, a smug grin plastered on his face. “She’s never gonna go for you, dude.”

Oh my god, Tyler. I’m going to punch you in the face.

Jeremy didn’t flinch. “She already did,” he said smugly. “Over and over and over again.”

The table went dead silent.

“Yeah, right,” Tyler scoffed, but there was an edge to his voice now, like he was trying to convince himself.

Caroline’s eyes widened, darting between the two of them as her lips curved into a scandalized grin. “Wait! You slept with Vicki Donovan? I mean, Vicki Donovan slept with you?”

“There’s no way,” Tyler said, though his voice faltered.

Jeremy’s smirk only grew. “And I didn’t even have to force her into it.”

Tyler’s expression froze for half a second before his eyes skittered away.

I stared at him in shock.

“What the hell is he talking about, Ty?” Matt demanded.

Tyler straightened in his seat, avoiding Matt’s gaze. “Nothing, man. Just ignore him. He’s a punk.”

I glared at Tyler, wondering what the hell was suddenly up with him. “That ‘punk’ is my brother, asstwat,” I snapped.

Matt shoved back his chair, his patience officially gone. “You know what? How about all of you shut up and help me find my sister?”

The weight of his words cut through the brewing argument, and guilt tugged at my chest. With a resigned sigh, I tossed some cash onto the table, my half-eaten burger forgotten. “Let’s go,” I muttered, then shoved my bag at Elena, who gave me an indignant look. But hey, she was the one with the car keys, not me.

We stepped out of the Grill, and Matt suggested we split up once we hit the square to cover more ground. As I took in the crowd and the now full darkness of the night, my unease grew.

This was not how I’d planned on wrapping up my night.

But of course, in Mystic Falls, nothing ever went as planned. The day wasn’t over until it hit rock bottom.

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Chapter Text

Five

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The square was still buzzing with life, the hum of festival-goers blending with the soft glow of lanterns strung through the trees and the flicker of candles clutched in the hands of the crowd. The sweet smell of funnel cakes and roasted nuts teased me as I walked past the food trucks, weaving through clusters of people. My stomach growled loud enough to compete with the music from the stage, but I shoved the thought of stopping aside.

Focus, Emery. Priorities.

Kids darted past me, waving around colorful sparklers, their laughter ringing out of the murmur of the crowd. Just about everywhere, heads tipped back to watch the comet streaking through the sky, and friends and families lounged on blankets or folding chairs in the grass, chatting and pointing. It all looked so… normal. Like the universe was staging some perfect postcard moment, daring anyone to feel uneasy.

But unease churned inside me anyway. Vicki was missing, and I just had this undeniable feeling of… wrongness.

What did Bonnie say about the comet when we met up at The Grotto?

Oh yeah—that it was a harbinger of evil.

I’d already combed through the outskirts, checked near the little stage where a band was playing some jazzy cover of an indie song, and looped through most of the food truck area. Not even a hint of Vicki’s long brown hair. Not that it would’ve stood out anyway. A blessing and a curse for us brunettes, apparently.

It wasn’t like her to just vanish. Okay, wow, scratch that—it was like her. But not when she was supposed to be healing from a freaking animal attack. Matt said she promised him she’d take it easy for the next few days too. Vicki was a lot of things, but I knew disappointing her brother ate at her big time.

I pushed past another group of festival-goers, their laughter grating against my nerves, closely scanning faces for what felt like the hundredth time. My reward was a few weird looks, but I didn’t care. At this point, I was tempted to just start screaming her name—I was bound to get faster results that way, right?

Just as I took in a deep breath in preparation for the shout, I spotted Jeremy, standing off the main path. The air came out in a pathetic puff.

My brother looked… rough. Hands shoved into his jacket pockets, jaw clenched so tight it had to hurt, his eyes darting over the crowd like he was trying to will Vicki into existence. His whole posture screamed tension—like a rubber band stretched so tight, it was ready to snap.

“Jeremy!” I called, weaving through the crowd toward him. His head jerked my way, and his expression relaxed the tiniest bit when he saw me.

“Hey,” he said, his voice tight.

“Anything?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

He shook his head, the frustration on his face mirroring my own ten-fold. “I checked the parking lot, then all down the street to the gas station… She still isn’t answering my calls.”

“Matt texted me a few minutes ago, said he’s gonna drive around the block and then check home in case she got a ride,” I muttered, still keeping an eye peeled as I glanced around. The crowd suddenly felt a lot bigger, a lot harder to search. “I’ve been through most of the square, around the food trucks, the stage… Nothing. Maybe she’s sitting somewhere quiet? At the park or something?” It was only a short walk away from the square.

He gave a half-hearted shrug. “Maybe,” he said, but he didn’t sound like he believed it.

We fell into step together, eyes scanning the crowd as we walked. Jeremy’s tension radiated off him in waves, prickling the air between us like static. I wasn’t great at dealing with other people’s stress, especially Jeremy’s. He had this habit of bottling things up until he either exploded or turned into a human block of ice. Right now, he was stuck somewhere between the two, and it was not fun.

I cleared my throat, figuring I’d take a crack at… well, cracking him. “Okay, so… if we don’t find her here, what’s the next step? Missing posters? Face on a milk carton? Or do we skip straight to hiring a private investigator?”

Jeremy shot me a look, one brow twitching upward in disapproval. “Not funny.”

“Tough crowd,” I muttered, shoving my hands into my jacket pockets. “Fine. How about adding motivation: whoever spots her first owes the other one a fried dough monstrosity from the food trucks. Deal?”

That earned me the faintest flicker of a smile, but he squashed it quickly. “You’ve got weird priorities, you know that?”

“Yeah, but it had the desired effect,” I said, flashing him a grin. “That was almost a smile.” I nudged his arm lightly. “Gotta keep your hopes up, Jer. We’ll find her. Everyone else is looking, too. She’s not alone out here.”

He huffed a quiet laugh.

After a few beats of silence, my curiosity of the last few days finally got the better of me. “So… you and Vicki,” I began, aiming for casual but probably failing. “Is that, like, a thing?”

Jeremy stiffened, and just when I thought he wasn’t going to reply, his gaze finally slid to mine with apprehension. “I don’t know,” he caved. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We hung out a lot during the summer. Sometimes it feels like she likes me that way, and other times… I don’t know. It’s like I’m just someone to pass the time with.” His voice dipped, bitterness creeping in, but then he suddenly gave a little boyish smile. “I asked Vicki if she wanted to watch the comet with me, and we planned to meet up outside the Grill,” he frowned, “but… you know the rest.”

Yikes. I resisted the urge to pry for details. I really didn’t want to know what “pass the time with” might’ve involved. That sounded like a rabbit hole I didn’t want to fall into. Instead, I went for something safer. “Yeah, I figured you liked her,” I said, shooting him a sly look. “You were practically inconsolable when she got attacked by that animal.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes, but a faint flush crept up his neck. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“Anytime,” I teased, but my smile faded when his expression darkened.

“It’s just…” He sighed, his frustration back. “Tyler’s been all over her lately, and I’m worried she’s falling for it. I know he’s just using her, but she doesn’t see it.”

I frowned, his words hitting uncomfortably close to home. Then he turned, his gaze accusing. “Why are you even friends with Tyler? You know what he’s like.”

The question hit like a slap, and I bristled instinctively. “He’s not that bad,” I shot back, though the words felt weak even to me. “He’s just… emotionally repressed.”

Jeremy snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face. “C’mon, I haven’t spent much time with him lately. I didn’t even know he was going after Vicki. And yeah, I didn’t love how he treated you at the Grill, but Tyler’s not all bad. He just… needs to get his head out of his ass.”

Jeremy didn’t reply, his face unreadable. I wasn’t sure if he believed me—or if I even believed myself. After a moment, he gave a curt nod, though it didn’t feel like agreement, especially as I could practically feel him stewing as he slowly shut down.

I fiddled with my ring, twisting it over and over as we walked in silence, the sounds of the festival filling the awkward gap between us. Jeremy’s footsteps were heavy, his jaw clenched tight, and his narrowed eyes stayed locked straight ahead. I had a feeling he was holding back something more than worry about Vicki.

Finally, he broke, his frustration boiling over as he blurted out, “Elena thinks I’m dealing.”

I blinked, thrown. “Dealing? Like drugs?” That was news to me. Elena hadn’t mentioned anything, but knowing her, she probably figured I’d react badly. She had a habit of playing gatekeeper with me.

Jeremy nodded sharply, his hands balling into fists in his jacket pockets. “You heard Tyler run his mouth.” He scoffed. “Pill pusher—right in front of Elena and everyone else. And now she’s convinced I’m some kind of criminal.”

I frowned, the thought of Elena accusing him like that twisted something in my gut. “What did you say to her?”

Jeremy let out a cutting laugh. “What do you think? I told her I wasn’t, but she didn’t believe me. Just went straight into her whole ‘I’m trying to help you’ crap—like that’s not just code for ‘you’re a screw-up.’” He ran a hand through his hair, his voice cracking with the frustration he’d been bottling up. “I just—God, I’m so sick of it, Emery. Jenna and Elena both—they keep treating me like I’m some ticking time bomb or a project they need to fix,” he trailed off, glaring forward.

I didn’t jump in, just walked quietly beside him, waiting. And sure enough, he kept going.

“And all their dumb lectures,” he spat angrily. “They act like they know what I need. Like if they nag me enough, I’ll magically stop feeling like—” He cut himself off, shaking his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” I said in an almost blasé fashion, even as my heart twisted. “You just don’t want to say it because it feels like handing them ammo. Like if you admit what’s really going on, you’ll just prove them right.”

Jeremy’s head whipped toward me, his eyes flashing with something between anger and disbelief, but just as quickly, he looked away. “You don’t get it either,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s not like you’re constantly being hounded…”

“Maybe not,” I admitted, shrugging casually, though a small pang stabbed at my chest. Not anymore, I thought, the words rising unbidden. Not since the accident. But I pushed the thought aside. This wasn’t about me, and I wasn’t about to make it that way.

“But I do get this much,” I continued. “You’re not pissed because Elena thinks you’re dealing. You’re pissed because it doesn’t matter what you say. They’ve already decided who you are, and you think nothing you do is ever going to change their minds.”

Jeremy didn’t respond right away, but the way his jaw flexed told me I’d hit a nerve.

“If they’ve already made up their minds,” I continued, stopping in my tracks so he’d have to face me, “then why waste your time trying to prove them wrong?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his voice edged with irritation. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t keep walking, which told me I had his attention.

“It means,” I said, crossing my arms, “you’re wasting your time explaining yourself to people who aren’t even listening. If they’re gonna think the worst of you regardless, then screw it. Let them. Just… do whatever the hell you want and let them catch up.”

Jeremy stared at me, the lines of frustration on his face slowly giving way to confusion. “So, what—you’re saying I should just let them believe I’m a burnout?”

“No,” I said, nudging his arm lightly with a teasing smirk. “I’m saying you should stop giving their opinions so much power. You know who you are, right? If you do, then what they think doesn’t matter. If you don’t…” I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow. “Well, maybe that’s the bigger problem.”

Jeremy fell silent, his gaze dropping to the ground. The fight in him seemed to waver, giving way to something quieter. “And what if they’re not wrong?” he asked, but his voice lacked the edge it held earlier.

“Then prove them wrong,” I said, throwing a hand up for emphasis. “Not because you’re trying to convince them—you don’t owe them that. You do it by accident because you’re too busy being better than their stupid version of you. And yeah, maybe you’ll mess up a few times along the way, but fuck it. At least you’ll be doing it on your terms.”

He stared at me for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out if I was serious. Finally, the corner of his mouth twitched upward in the faintest of smiles. “If Elena heard you talking to me like this, she’d probably kill you.”

I grinned. “When doesn’t she want to?” Turning, I started walking again, tossing over my shoulder, “And next time Tyler opens his mouth, remind him he’s just a rich kid with daddy issues who probably won’t peak past high school.”

Jeremy shook his head, letting out a breath that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. He fell into step beside me, his shoulders less tense than before. “You know, now I’m questioning if you’re even friends with that dick, considering how much shit you give him.”

“Hey,” I said with a smirk. “I talk shit to all the people I care about. Keeps ‘em humble.”

Jeremy snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, now let’s focus on finding your maybe-sorta-girlfriend—”

My phone buzzed in my pocket, cutting me off. Jeremy shot me an annoyed look, but I ignored him and pulled it out. Matt’s name lit up the screen.

“What’s the sitch?”

“Hey, we found her,” Matt said, his voice tired but relieved. “She’s back at the Grill. Meet us here?”

I exhaled a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Got it. Be there in a minute.”

I hung up and turned to Jeremy, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Matt said they found her. She’s back at the Grill.”

Jeremy’s shoulders sagged with relief, and he let out a long breath. “Thank god.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, just as relieved. I didn’t want to think about the potential fallout if we hadn’t found her tonight. “Come on. Let’s go.”

He nodded, and we started walking back toward the Grill, that weird feeling of wrongness finally starting to lift.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

Before I could even open my mouth, Jeremy darted off the moment we stepped into the restaurant. One second, he was walking beside me, and the next, he was halfway across the room. I scowled at his retreating back as he blended into the crowd. Typical. Little brothers—you give them one solid piece of advice, and then they act like you don’t even exist. God forbid I say anything that actually makes sense, right?

I sighed and scanned the room, quickly spotting Matt in a corner booth sitting across from a very out-of-it Vicki. Jeremy, predictably, wasn’t anywhere near them. Instead, I caught sight of him standing awkwardly by the pool tables, hands stuffed in his pockets like he was waiting for the right moment to approach. I sighed. So much for diving in to help. Though, in his defense, Elena sitting at a nearby table with Bonnie and Caroline, all talking in hushed tones, probably didn’t help his nerves.

Shaking my head, I made my way over to Matt and Vicki. “Need a hand?” I asked when I reached them, noting the way Matt was fumbling with Vicki’s bandage.

He glanced up at me, relief flickering across his face, though it was quickly buried under frustration. “Yeah, if you could. Her stitches tore a little, and I can’t get the bandage to stay in place.”

“Let me see,” I said, sliding into the booth beside Vicki.

Taking over, I leaned in to inspect the damage. I was no doctor, but my dad’s impromptu first aid lessons had given me more than a passing knowledge of how to handle situations like this—I was often the most accident prone Gilbert growing up. The tear in the stitches wasn’t terrible—not ideal, but in my unprofessional opinion, it didn’t seem to be in need of another hospital visit. Without more medical supplies, though, there wasn’t much I could do beyond readjusting the tape a little to get it to stay.

While I patched up Vicki’s bandage, Matt filled me in. Apparently, Stefan had found her wandering the streets, dazed and confused. If I had to guess, she’d probably taken one too many painkillers. The thought pulled me back to when I’d first walked into her room and spotted all those pill bottles scattered on her nightstand. A part of me kinda wished I had check the name on the bottles then, but ultimately, I just really hoped she wasn’t mixing.

A moment later, Matt ran off to find a server to order some food for Vicki, wanting to make sure she ate something before they left for home.

Vicki was staring at me blankly, her eyes glassy and half-lidded. She swayed a little after I finished, and I moved to steady her. “Hey, you still with me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she mumbled, her voice thin and distant.

“You don’t sound like it,” I teased gently, hoping to keep her engaged. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

She blinked slowly, like it took a monumental effort to process the question. I hoped she didn’t drink with the medication too, but as far as I could tell, there was no smell of alcohol on her breath. “Walking… I was walking. And then…” Her brow furrowed slightly. “I don’t know. Everything feels… weird.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” I said, leaning back to meet her gaze. “Matt said Stefan found you. Do you remember him showing up?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line as she thought, and for a second, she looked almost lucid. “He… he was just there. Out of nowhere.” She shook her head weakly. “It’s all fuzzy. I don’t—why was he even there?”

“We were all looking for you. Probably luck,” I said, shrugging. “Or maybe his stalker tenancies actually came in handy for once.”

Her lips twitched, the faintest ghost of a smile. “Heard you didn’t like your sister’s new boyfriend. He’ll never live up to Mattie.”

“Agreed,” I said with a laugh, not bother to correct her and say they weren’t together yet. Mainly because there was a strong emphasis on that “yet.”

Switching topics, I asked, “So, how’d you manage to rip these stitches? What were you doing—trying to win a street fight?”

Vicki let out a soft laugh, though it sounded more like a breath. “Not unless I was fighting the pavement.”

“Ah, classic enemy,” I said, grinning. “Always sneaks up on you when you least expect it.”

Matt returned then, setting a glass of water down in front of Vicki, before turning to me. “You sticking around?”

“Nah, I’m too exhausted.” As if on cue, a huge yawn took over. “After she eats, head straight home and make sure to clean around the stitches carefully and apply fresh bandages,” I stressed, standing up.

Vicki blinked up at me, her glassy eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re bossy.”

I snorted. Yup, she was definitely out of it if she was calling me the bossy one. “Pssh. Have you met my sister?”

She managed a faint laugh, her head lolling against the booth. “Thanks, Emery. We should totally hang out soon. Matt told me you helped after I was attacked.” Her eyes fogged up, likely at the memory, and a pained look crossed her face.

I held back a cringe, reaching out to pat her shoulder lightly, pulling her back from that place. “Yeah, yeah,” I replied softly. “Just do me a favor—let Matt handle things for a bit, okay? You’re not exactly in fighting shape right now.”

Matt smiled at me, the smudged snake I’d painted on his cheek earlier warping slightly. I couldn’t believe it had only been a few hours ago—it felt like an eternity. “I owe you one.”

“You owe me about twenty, actually,” I teased. “‘Night.”

As I walked away, I shot Jeremy a quick text, letting him know I was heading out but would come back if he needed a ride. Something told me he planned to stick around, waiting for the right moment to approach Vicki.

Elena spotted me and met halfway, looking just as worn out as I felt. “Ready to go?” I asked, stifling another yawn.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I’m going to use the bathroom and say goodbye to Bonnie and Caroline.”

“Okay,” I replied, nodding. “I’ll meet you at the car.”

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

The square had mostly cleared out by now, the crowd reduced to a scattering of stragglers still lingering under the fading light of the comet. The event had been a success for everyone else, but I hadn’t even gotten the chance to really take it in.

Reaching the SUV, I remembered Elena had the keys. With no way to get in, I leaned against the cool metal of the car door and tilted my head back, my gaze catching on the fiery streak cutting through the night sky.

Time seemed to still as I stared up at it. Logically, I knew it was hurtling through space at incomprehensible speeds, but in that moment, it felt eternal—like it had been there forever, and would remain long after I was gone.

The thought made my chest ache with something I couldn’t quite name. Awe, maybe. Or insignificance. Thousands of years had carried the comet through its journey, and I knew I’d never see it again in my lifetime.

It was a humbling reminder of how small I was. How small we all were.

I’d always thought I had a healthy dose of fear when it came to death—nothing debilitating, just enough to make me savor life while I had it. I used to comfort myself with the idea that death was the last great adventure, the final chapter in a story I’d spent my life writing.

But after Mom and Dad passed… everything changed, and I thought about it much more.

Their deaths had been so sudden, so final, that it left no room for poetic metaphors. Just a void. Since then, I couldn’t help but think about my own time here. In the grand scheme of things, it really was so small. Insignificant, even. And worst of all, there was no guarantee of how much I had left.

“Boo.”

I jumped, startled out of my thoughts about the comet. Sliding sideways against the car door, the motion let out an embarrassing squeak before I found myself sprawled unceremoniously on the hard cement of the parking lot. Wincing, I automatically looked up to identify the culprit.

Damon Salvatore.

For some reason, I wasn’t surprised. What did surprise me, though, was that he’d actually managed to startle me. Years of practice dodging Jeremy’s relentless jump scares had made me hard to rattle, and I couldn’t deny feeling a little amused that he succeeded. But seriously, it was like he came out of nowhere.

He laughed at the sight of me sprawled on the ground. “Skittish much?”

“Not normally.” Damon clearly didn’t believe me, but at least was kind enough to offer a hand, hoisting me up. “You just caught me in one of my rare moments of deep thought.”

Damon cocked his head. “What were you thinking about?”

“Death,” I replied bluntly, glancing back up at the comet.

His brows lifted as he followed my gaze. “How morbid of you.”

“I have my moments.” I shrugged. “It’s healthy to face conscious thoughts of death every now and then. Encourages me to enjoy life, you know? All that inspirational jazz.” I chuckled, though I was actually being genuine.

“Not scared of kickin’ the bucket, huh?” Damon smirked, somehow finding that amusing.

I scoffed. “A little fear is normal, sure. But death is inevitable, right? Pretending it’s not doesn’t make it any less so. And honestly? There are scarier things than dying.”

Damon’s expression shifted, subtle but noticeable—his curiosity sharpening. “What if it isn’t inevitable?” He was quieter this time, less teasing.

I blinked, surprised he was humoring me and my philosophical moment. “You mean, like, immortality?”

He hummed in confirmation, watching me with an intensity that made me feel like I was under a microscope.

I tilted my head, considering. “Can’t say I’ve thought much about it.” And it was true; even with the death of my parents, eternity wasn’t on my mental playlist. If anything, their passing hammered home how inescapable death was. “But living forever… it sounds like a double-edged sword, doesn’t it?”

Damon didn’t interrupt, so I continued, piecing my thoughts together as I spoke. “I read this quote once… uh, ‘The fear of death follows from the fear of life. A man who lives fully is prepared to die at any time.’”

“Did you just quote Mark Twain to me?” Damon teased me, but I couldn’t help being impressed that he knew it off the bat.

I rubbed the back of my neck, glancing away sheepishly. “Hey, it’s a good quote!” I defended. I even included it in an English essay that I received an A for.

“Never said it wasn’t,” he intercepted smoothly.

I eyed him before pressing on. “Anyway, the way I see it… without an end, can you really appreciate life? The fear of death—it’s what makes us want to live fully, to make our time count. But if you could live forever…” I trailed off, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I don’t know. Could you even call that living? Or would it just… be?”

The words felt clumsy as they left my mouth, and I nervously pushed my hair back again. I was used to speaking my mind without a care of making sense or not, but I’d never really delved into philosophical topics like this with a stranger before—especially not with one who was watching me so intently.

Damon’s expression bordered somewhere between intrigued and doubtful. “So, eternal youth and infinite time don’t do it for you? No interest in seeing it all, doing it all, living without limits?”

My gaze drifted back to the comet streaking across the inky sky, its fiery tail painting a fleeting masterpiece. “I’d rather savor the moments I have, knowing they’re finite. That’s what makes them precious. If I had forever, everything might lose its value. The urgency to experience and appreciate life as it happens would fade away.” I shook my head. “Meh. Living forever sparks a ton of debate, though. Would we become complacent? Stagnant? Trapped in an eternal loop of existence without purpose or meaning?”

He held up a finger. “Or maybe,” he countered, “we would seize each moment with fervor, knowing that time isn’t our enemy—it’s our ally.”

His response caught me off guard. “Maybe,” I conceded with a wry smile, “but there’s something inherently human about our mortality. The fleeting nature of our existence… it’s what gives life its intensity, its vibrancy.”

“Sure,” he drawled out with a shrug that felt too casual to convince me he was sincere. “But there’s also beauty in the infinite, too. In the possibility of boundless exploration.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t about to humor that version of ‘boundless exploration.’

“Like I said, a ton of debate. We could do this all night.” I chuckled, though the idea didn’t sound half-bad if I wasn’t so damn tired. My thoughts were already starting to feel like a broken record, and besides, my sister would be coming out of the restaurant any second, ready to drag me back home. “And that’s all it’ll ever be—a debate. I doubt eternity exists in any form. I’ve never been religious or spiritually inclined enough to believe otherwise.”

Damon studied me, his head tilted slightly as if he were trying to figure out a puzzle. “You know, most people run from the idea of death. But you? You act like you’ve already shaken hands and made peace with it.”

I raised an eyebrow at his phrasing. “‘Act like’? You make it sound like you don’t believe me.” I crossed my arms and leaned slightly toward him. “It’s not really about making peace with death, per se. It’s about making peace with life. Understanding that every moment is a chance to create something meaningful, to connect with people. Death is just… the natural end to that journey.”

When he didn’t reply right away, I pressed further.

“Take this comet.” I gestured upward, my gaze fixed on the streak of light above us. “It’s just a ball of ice, rock, and dust that’s been hurtling through space for thousands of years. Compared to our lifespan, that’s got to feel pretty close to eternity. But even this comet will meet its natural end, breaking down in the atmosphere until only the dust remains.” A small, almost wistful smile tugged at my lips. “I don’t know why, but I find comfort in that. Knowing that, someday, we’ll all be just a handful of dust.”

The hum of the town filled the quiet that followed, distant and unobtrusive, yet grounding. Damon’s pale blue eyes lingered on mine, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of something in his gaze—something that hinted at a deeper perspective.

“Ah, there it is again—definitely the morbid one.” As if flipping a switch, he leaned against the SUV, and slowly a smirk tugged at his lips again as he reverted back to his teasing mode. “A handful of dust, huh? Very poetic. You really know how to set the mood, don’t you?” he remarked, eyes glinting in amusement as he reached to pat my head.

I sidestepped, narrowing my eyes at him. “Easy there. Profound thoughts don’t come with a free head pat,” I shot back, smoothing my hair in mock irritation.

He chuckled, unbothered. “Profound, huh? I guess there’s more going on in that pretty little head of yours than I gave you credit for. I didn’t peg you as Mystic Falls’ resident philosopher when we met earlier.” He paused, taking a few steps from the car before facing me again with a wag of his finger. “You—you are definitely not the usual chatterbox type I’m used to around here.”

I shot him a playful glare at his teasing, not taking it seriously. Most people didn’t know I had this side to me.

I blame Sonia’s influence.

“I aim to keep things interesting. Life’s too short—or maybe too long—for boring conversations,” I replied. Then I gave him a pointed look. “And, please, spare me one of those ‘you’re not like other girls’ speeches. I will gag.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it. But you’ve got a point—about enjoying life while you can. Not everyone thinks that way.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone gets randomly drawn into a late-night existential debate by some guy they just met—under a comet, no less,” I said, the absurdity of the situation not lost on me. Statistically, this was beyond unlikely.

Still, there was something about the way Damon leaned into the topic that made me pause. He clearly seemed in favor of the immortality side of the debate. Was that just him playing devil’s advocate, or did he actually believe in the possibility?

“You’ve got a real knack for making first impressions…” I searched for a word, “memorable.”

Damon’s smirk deepened into a full-fledged grin as he winked. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”

I snorted, shaking my head at his unabashed confidence. “Let’s not get carried away with the Salvatore charm, shall we?” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it, feeling dumb. Still, it wasn’t like I was wrong. Both brothers had this almost magnetic quality to them—one that I hated admitting out loud.

His grin turned wolfish. “Where’s the fun in that?”

For a brief moment, we both fell silent, our gazes drifting back to the sky as the comet continued its slow, fiery journey. The shared stillness felt oddly comfortable, though I decided to break it before Damon could get too smug.

“You know, Damon,” I said with a playful grin, shifting the tone, “this is twice in one day now—randomly bumping into me. I’d be careful, you’re showing early symptoms of Stefan’s stalking disease. Seems like it might run in the family.”

Damon’s pale blue eyes shone with amusement as he folded his arms. “Oh, no, no,” he refuted, easily playing along. “That gene skipped me. This is just a coincidence.”

I hummed, rocking back on my heels as I feigned skepticism. “Once is chance, twice is coincidence, third time’s a pattern. You’re walking a thin line, Salvatore.”

“And we’re only at round two,” Damon countered seriously. “Pure coincidence.” But then he suddenly adopted a mournful expression, placing a hand over his heart with theatrical flair as he turned away. “Although… I suppose this is where we part ways forever. Wouldn’t want to risk ending up with a reputation like dear Stefan—lurking in the shadows, pining, and all that tragic nonsense.”

“Well,” I started, casting him a sidelong glance, a slow smile creeping in, “as long as the third time doesn’t happen tonight, we’re in the clear.”

He dropped the act, turning back around. “Deal.”

Before another silence could settle in again, Damon shifted the topic this time. “What has you out here all by your lonesome anyway?”

I gestured toward the Grill with mild annoyance. “Waiting for my sister so we can head home. Though, she’s taking her sweet time, as usual.”

Damon straightened, his sly grin returning. “I could give you a ride if you like.” His tone was casual, but there was an edge to it, like the offer wasn’t entirely innocent, and I wasn’t interested.

“Nah,” I replied quickly, aiming for nonchalance. The idea of being stuck in a car with Damon was both intriguing and unnerving. “Elena will be out any minute.”

He took a step closer, suddenly too close for comfort. His blue eyes locked onto my hazel ones, and I fidgeted with the ring on my finger. “I insist,” he murmured, his voice low and persuasive.

I blinked, then sidestepped with an awkward laugh. “Really, it’s fine. Thanks, though.”

Damon frowned, his lips parting like he was about to push further, but the abrupt beep of a car unlocking broke the moment. I turned to see Elena emerging from the Grill, her face full of exhaustion and irritation.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, walking around to the driver’s side. “They kept trying to convince me to stay longer, but I’m just not in the mood anymore.”

When I glanced back to where Damon had been standing, he was gone. Of course. Probably didn’t want to deal with the aftermath of whatever rebound speech he’d given Elena earlier. What a wimp.

“Let’s just get home. I’m exhausted,” I muttered, stifling a yawn as I slid into the passenger seat.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

As we drove home, the night air cool through the open windows, Elena filled me in on her encounter with Stefan earlier, completely unaware of the other Salvatore’s brief and mysterious presence around me today. I decided not to mention it; there was no need to complicate thing when she was already having a hard time. Especially now, since I had a suspicion Damon purposely sought me for some ulterior motive. His offer to give me a ride home and the intensity of his gaze really put me off. Technically, he didn’t do anything wrong or inappropriate, but it was still strange, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to him than met the eye.

Once we arrived home, Elena went straight to her room. My stomach rumbled, and I decided to forgo my thoughts on the matter for food, immediately heading to the kitchen. I never got to finish my burger and was absolutely starving now. I tugged the fridge door open, instantly deciding I didn’t like anything, and then opened the freezer to grab the ice cream instead.

With a spoon in hand, I plopped down on the couch to watch TV. I checked the History channel, thrilled to find Ancient Discoveries was on, despite being a re-run. Just as I selected it, Elena came bounding back down the stairs, hastily pulling her shoes on.

I turned around on the couch to watch. “Where are you off to?”

She straightened up, hair swooshing behind her, face determined. “To see Stefan.”

I raised a brow. “Decided that fast, huh?”

Elena looked at me with a soft smile. “You were right, Emery. It’s okay to let myself want things. It’s okay to want to be happy. And I want to be with Stefan—because he makes me feel happy.” She sighed, a bit shaky. “I don’t want to make excuses anymore, and I don’t want to pretend and hide away because I’m scared. This is a risk I want to take.”

“About time,” I replied nonchalantly, licking my spoon.

She stared back at me for a moment.

I scrunched my face up. “What are still doing here? Go sweep him off his feet!” I waved her away with a grin.

Elena returned a bright one of her own. “Thanks, Em.”

The door slammed behind her. I turned around and took another big bite of ice cream.

A minute later, Jenna joined me on the couch with a sigh.

“Rough night?” She asked, gesturing to the ice cream.

I shrugged. “Kinda. You?”

She nodded.

“Want some?” I offered, holding up the pint.

Jenna smiled. “Sure.”

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“Caw!”

My gaze lifted at the distinctive sound. Perched on a thin branch just outside my bedroom window was a large, deep black crow. It tilted its head at me, emitted another caw, and then gracefully flapped its wings. The movement caused the branch to sway, the very tip of it scratching eerily against my window.

During stormy nights when I was a kid, the sound used to terrify me. Dad would always promise to cut down the branch, but it would eventually slip both our minds until the next storm. The weekend after they passed away, a really bad storm hit. The noise didn’t scare me then, but it served as a painful reminder of him. I refrained from cutting it down, though, because if he were still alive, we both would have forgotten again the next day, and it would still be there.

“Caw!”

I stared at the bird for a second. It still hadn’t moved. Man, what was it with all the crows making appearances lately?

And then, it struck me—this was it. This was my inspiration, what I had been waiting for. Slowly, afraid the bird would fly away, I retrieved my sketchbook and pencil bag from the floor, opened it to a blank page, and pulled out a piece of charcoal. It was a rough sketch, but I found I couldn’t stop; the lines just kept flowing. When I got the basic layout done and realized the crow had no intention of leaving yet, I began to go into more detail.

Eventually, the bird cawed and flew away, likely bored of being my model. But that was okay. I got what I needed. And suddenly, I felt a lot lighter.

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Chapter Text

Six

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“Hey, I’m gonna ride with Bonnie to school. She wants the deets on last night. Is that okay?” Elena asked, leaning against the bathroom doorframe.

I paused mid-swipe, lowering the thin brush from my eye to avoid sabotaging my winged liner. Precision required silence, but this was Elena, so silence wasn’t in the cards. “Nah, it’s cool. I figured as much,” I said, carefully placing the brush on the counter. “I’ll take the car. I was planning on staying late in the art room anyway. Might catch some of Matt’s football practice while I’m at it.”

Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “You still watch football practice?”

I shrugged. “It’s not about the football, really. I just like the sketching opportunity. Athletes in motion, y’know? Dynamic poses and all that. You still going to cheerleading?”

“Yeah, of course I am,” she said, somewhat defensively.

I raised my hands in surrender. “Whoa, sorry. You just haven’t seemed all that into it lately.” It wasn’t meant to sound judgmental, but the truth was the truth. Cheerleading used to be her thing. She’d missed cheer camp this summer—not her fault, obviously, given… circumstances. Still, it was like her spark for it had dimmed.

Her shoulders stiffened, and her tone grew defensive. “Well, I will be once I get back into the swing of it.”

“Okay,” I said, voice neutral. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” she snapped, crossing her arms like she was trying to win some invisible argument.

“Fine.” My brow arched slightly.

“Fine,” she shot back, not moving from her spot.

I gave her a look, waiting. The standoff continued for an awkward beat until I pointed at my eyeliner and deadpanned, “Can you, like, let me finish here then?”

She huffed, spinning on her heel. Her door didn’t quite slam, but it closed hard enough to rattle slightly in its frame.

I sighed and muttered to myself, “Denial,” before refocusing on my eyeliner.

Classic Elena. Always so quick to defend herself, even when there wasn’t anything to defend. Maybe she’d bounce back once cheer practice started, but I had my doubts. For now, I had more immediate concerns—like not ruining my make-up.

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“Almost a full week into school and nothing to show for it. To be honest, I was beginning to worry. But this, Emery—this is a very good start to the semester. I’m glad you made it through your artist block,” Sonia said, her warm smile radiating approval as she leaned closer to examine the canvas.

Suppressing my grin, I bit my lip, feigning nonchalance, though a flicker of pride warmed my chest. I tilted my head, mimicking her posture as we both studied the rough beginnings of my painting.

Ms. Sonia Hartwick was, without a doubt, the best teacher in this school. And not just because of her knack for pulling my creativity out of whatever rut it had crawled into. Sonia wasn’t like other teachers who stuck to stiff boundaries and tight deadlines. She let us call her by her first name, made sure her classroom felt more like a haven than a lecture hall, and somehow managed to turn every project into something collaborative. That’s what made her different. Her calm, patient way of teaching had a way of making you feel seen, like she wasn’t just teaching art—she was helping you find your voice in it.

Her relaxed vibe extended even to her wardrobe: bright, flowing maxi dresses, chunky jewelry, and flats splattered with as much paint as the studio floor. But the best thing about her? She actually cared. You could tell from the way she took time to connect with each of us, like what we made here really mattered.

“Did you use a reference photo for the crow?” she asked, pointing to the center of the composition where the bird perched in stark detail against the hazy, muted background.

“No, actually.” I adjusted my stool slightly, leaning one arm on my knee. “It was outside my window last night. Stayed there for the longest time, just… watching me.”

Sonia’s brow quirked, a spark of amusement lighting her brown eyes. “Must have been fate.”

Of course, she’d say that. Sonia had this whimsical side, like she lived halfway between the real world and something out of a fairytale. She believed in things like signs, destiny, and energy flowing through the universe. I wasn’t sure I bought into all that, but I couldn’t deny how it seemed to work for her—how it bled into her teaching and her art.

“Maybe,” I said with a shrug. I didn’t necessarily hate the idea of fate. It sounded nice in theory, romantic even. But if everything was preordained, then where did that leave choices? I liked knowing I was the one steering my life—even when it felt like I was doing it blind.

“Keep going with it,” Sonia said after a moment, her smile lingering. “You’ve got something here.” She stood straight then, smoothing her hand over her dress, the kaleidoscope of colors shifting like water as she moved on to the next student. “Let me know if you need a second opinion.”

“Will do,” I called after her, already refocusing on the canvas.

I adjusted the height of my easel, sliding it up just enough to reach the lower half of the painting. Settling back onto my stool, I tucked one leg underneath me and dipped my brush into the burnt umber on my palette. The deep, earthy color was perfect for outlining the twisted branches that reached up toward the crow like skeletal hands.

The brush glided across the canvas, each stroke deliberate, each line carving out a little more of the scene in my mind. The faint scratch of bristles against the surface anchored me, each motion chipping away at the anxiety from my artist block. This wasn’t just progress for the painting; it felt like progress for me.

After weeks of blank pages and abandoned sketches, the simple act of creating again felt like a lifeline. Maybe Sonia was right. Maybe this was a good start.

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For some reason, Matt was in a mood today—and by default, so was Tyler. I decided I’d deal with them after their football practice, figuring they’d work it out on the field first. Besides, my lingering irritation with Tyler, thanks to the way he treated my brother, didn’t exactly have me eager to seek him out.

Confronting him while we were both still heated seemed like a surefire way to escalate things. Although I had half a mind to blow off being his pretend date altogether, I figured I’d at least give him a chance to make up for it first. Emphasis on chance.

For now, I opted for the safe route: lunch with just Elena and Bonnie. I made sure to steer them far away from Tyler—out of sight, out of mind. Caroline hadn’t shown up to school at all, which was weird enough to make Bonnie voice her concern. She was right to. Caroline never skipped school. Still, I wasn’t going to complain about the lack of her usual insensitive commentary.

I spent most of lunch ignoring the drama entirely, sketching the patch of grass and wildflowers growing under the picnic table we were sitting at outside. It was a nice day—sunny, with just enough breeze to keep it from getting too hot but not enough to send my paper flying. Occasionally, I’d remember the tray of food in front of me and shove a fry into my mouth without looking up.

At some point, Bonnie stood up abruptly, muttering something about unfinished homework before walking off in a hurry. Elena huffed loudly, crossing her arms on the table as she stared down at her food with a frown.

I tilted my head at her, confused by the sudden shift. “What’s wrong?”

“Bonnie—all of a sudden—decided she doesn’t like Stefan. She said he gave her a ‘weird feeling’ or whatever that means,” Elena explained, murmuring the last bit frustratingly, running a hand through her sleek brown hair.

Excitement bubbled in my chest at the news, and I leaned in so quickly that I almost knocked my pencils to the ground. “Finally! Someone sees the truth! Was it her witchy-magic powers? If it was, you have to believe her now. It’s not just me anymore.”

My sister shot me a harsh glare. “Em. Stefan is a good guy. You and Bonnie both encouraged me to go for him!” She threw her hands up dramatically for emphasis.

I rolled my eyes. “No, no, no. Bonnie encouraged you to go for Stefan. I encouraged you to do whatever makes you happy. Unfortunately, that just happens to be dating the guy who gives major stalker vibes.”

Her frown deepened, and for a moment, I wondered if I should backpedal with a quick “just kidding” to make her feel better. But no. I held my ground. I didn’t have to like everyone she hung out with. It was already enough that she dragged me into her circle in the first place. Bonnie was cool, but Caroline? She got on my nerves more often than not.

Elena stayed quiet, her arms still crossed tightly. After a moment of contemplation, she finally said, “You know what? You’re coming to dinner tonight too.”

I blinked, caught completely off guard by her sudden change of topic. “What?” How was that a punishment?

“I invited Stefan over for dinner at eight,” she said unnervingly casual—like she was reading off a weather report, not delivering news that warranted the gravity of a breaking true crime bulletin. “You and Bonnie are going to come and spend some actual time with him, no excuses. Then you’ll see the real Stefan—the one I have no trouble seeing. And you’ll understand just how great he is.”

Oh. That’s the punishment. My stomach dropped, and my face paled. “No.”

“Too bad.”

“You can’t make me.” I crossed my arms.

“Yes, I can.” She leaned forward threateningly, her eyes narrowing in challenge.

“I’d like to see you try,” I drawled out, squinting daringly right back at her.

For a second, I thought I’d won when she pursed her lips, seemingly stumped. But then, her face shifted into a slow, smug smirk—the kind that screamed checkmate. “If you don’t come, I’ll tell Caroline it was you who knocked over the light fixture at last year’s homecoming dance.”

My eyes widened in horror. “You wouldn’t.”

Panic shot through me at the reminder of my accidental clumsy moment. The dance committee had to delay the event to clean up all the shattered glass, and Caroline—being very into the dance committee—had gone full-blown psychotic trying to figure out who was responsible. I thought I’d covered my tracks well enough to avoid suspicion. How did Elena even know it was me? There were a lot of other people setting up for that dance too. It could have been anyone!

“And I won’t,” she added, leaning back smugly. “As long as you come to dinner and at least try to get to know my boyfriend.”

I groaned, slumping in defeat. “Fine. But there better be ice cream.”

“Deal,” she said with a grin, clearly basking in her victory.

As I sat there, glaring at her smug face, one thought crossed my mind.

Yeah, well, we all know who the evil twin is now.

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Despite Stefan being a bit of a mopey bore most of the time—his entire existence seemingly revolving around impressing Elena—I couldn’t deny I was at least a little impressed by his historical knowledge. The way he effortlessly shut down Tanner again today, rattling off dates like rapid lightning, revealed a side of him that made me—reluctantly, maybe—consider the idea of befriending him.

Maybe.

And then the day dragged on, and I found myself in English class, where he happened to sit all the way in the back. My eyes betrayed me, scanning the room as if on autopilot, seeking out those deep set forest-green eyes of his. Ugh. I hated that I’d even noticed him. It had taken me an embarrassing number of days to realize he was even in this class. And once I did, it became impossible not to notice him every single time I walked through the door.

His vibe in English was totally different from History. Granted, Mrs. Adams wasn’t nearly as combative as Tanner, which probably helped. But I had a feeling the biggest difference was Elena’s absence. Without her around, Stefan didn’t try so hard to play the brooding, pretentious Romeo. He just… quietly worked. Head down, entirely focused, even when the girls sitting near him kept inventing the dumbest excuses to talk to him. He didn’t let his eyes stray, politely cutting their attempts short in a way that screamed he had to do this often. Even when some of the guys tried to strike up a conversation, he’d engage just enough to be polite before retreating back into his bubble.

It was kind of fascinating to watch, honestly. And by fascinating, I mean weird. Why was he like this? Polite, nice, even a little charming—but still so distant. As I sat on the opposite side of the room, deliberately avoiding sitting anywhere near him, the realization hit me like a book dropped on my head from a high shelf: Stefan Salvatore, perfect gentleman and Elena’s resident stalker, was a total loner.

Just like me.

The thought hovered in the back of my mind, poking at something I didn’t want to unpack.

After school, I spotted him again, sitting at the top of the bleachers. He was perched there like some tragic statue carved out of marble, watching the football team practice with this look in his eyes—part longing, part sadness, part… I don’t know, wistfulness? Whatever it was, it annoyed me.

So, in a moment of impulsive generosity (or maybe just boredom), I decided to be nice and invade his personal space.

Before heading up, I added the finishing touches to a quick gesture drawing of the players sprinting across the field. My gaze held on Matt for a moment longer than I intended. He caught me staring, his grin tipping somewhere between amusement and quiet confidence—as if he knew I’d been sketching him yet again. Honestly, at this point, I could probably fill an entire book with drawings of him on the field. Smiling, I gave him an exaggerated wave before tucking my sketchbook into my bag and slinging it over my shoulder.

Taking the bleachers two at a time, I bounded up to where the pensive Salvatore was sitting, plopping down next to him without waiting for an invitation.

“Careful, keep brooding into the distance like that, and people might get the wrong idea,” I declared, resting my elbows on my knees. Might think you’re a murder like your brother, I almost added with a smirk. But I had a feeling he wouldn’t appreciate the jab the way Damon would, so I kept it to myself. It didn’t take much to figure out who the fun one in the family was.

Stefan acknowledged me with a brief smile. “Hello, Emery.”

“’Sup,” I greeted, sensing his reluctance to engage. He stayed silent, still staring down at the field, and I quickly grew bored with just sitting there. “So, uh, what’s holding you back?”

Stefan finally glanced me, his brow furrowed. “What do you mean, what’s holding me back?”

I shot him a deadpan look. “From going down there and smooching the pants off of Tanner,” I quipped, rolling my eyes.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head, but his attention drifted back to the field.

“Nah, but really. You look like you want to be a part of it. It’s not gonna kill you to just ask,” I pressed.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” he replied cautiously.

I tilted my head, curiosity piqued. “What, afraid of not being accepted?”

His frown deepened, and though he didn’t answer, the tension in his jaw said enough.

I snorted at his reaction. “Please. Unlike my sister, I know what it’s like to be a loner. You can convince yourself you’re content in solitude, that you don’t belong anywhere or need anyone. That it’s simply ‘not meant to be.’” I shrugged. “And yeah, maybe that’s true, and maybe it’s also just a defense mechanism against the possibility of rejection,” I reasoned. “But eventually, loneliness becomes more of a burden than a choice.”

His nodded, the guarded angular edges easing just slightly. “I get that,” he said quietly. “It’s easy to build walls, shut people out. Until you realize those walls are isolating you more than they’re shielding you.”

For a moment, it felt like he might actually open up. But then his expression shifted subtly, I realized he was just regurgitating something he’d probably said dozens of times before to get people off his back. Words that were just a front—he wasn’t actually going to open up with anything personal. And I knew I was right when he immediately deflected the conversation back onto me.

“You know, you don’t really seem like a loner to me, what with all the friends you surround yourself with.”

I waved my hand dismissively, deciding to let him off the hook. For now. “Most of the people around me are actually surrounding my sister,” I replied, the words slipping out casually.

I didn’t sound bitter, but Stefan’s brow furrowed anyway, like he’d caught onto something unsaid. “I find that hard to believe,” he said after a beat. “You’re a very open person, Emery. I’ve noticed how people are drawn to your energy—the way you ease them into conversation. It’s… admirable. That’s always been a trait I’ve wished I could emulate.”

For a second, I just blinked at him, thrown. Not a single ounce of sarcasm or flattery in his voice—just quiet honesty. While I didn’t entirely buy into the whole “energy” thing, I couldn’t help but feel caught off guard.

Me? Easing people in? Sure, I could talk to people when I felt like it, but I’d always thought of my bluntness as more of a character flaw than something people might admire.

I glanced away, suddenly aware of the heat creeping up my neck and cheeks as I fiddled with my ring. “Yeah, well,” I muttered. “I suppose being a complete loner was more of a once-upon-a-time kinda thing. Depends on the day, I guess. Some days I’m more of a people person than others.”

Stefan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he turned to look at me. Great, now he was giving me his full attention. Awesome. Just what I wanted. I leaned back against the bleachers, crossing my feet on the row below, but the steadiness of his gaze made it impossible to keep avoiding his eyes.

So I gave in and narrowed my eyes at him. “And how would you even know?” I accused, exaggerating my suspicious look. “Don’t tell me you’re stalking me now.”

“We do have History and English together,” he reminded me, a touch of amusement and—was that snark??—in his voice. But not even a twitch of annoyance. Damn.

I bit the inside of my cheek, debating with myself for a moment before deciding to just rip the Band-Aid off. The truth. Why not? I was curious how he’d handle it.

“Fine. Honestly?” I began, my voice a little lower now. “It’s still something I’m working on—breaking down walls, reaching out. None of it’s easy. I mean, yeah, I come off completely unbothered by the opinions of others, but even I get stuck in my head sometimes. Wondering if I’m doing enough. Wondering if I fit.” I let out a small laugh, shaking my head. “The life of a teenager, huh?”

For a split second, something flickered across Stefan’s face—sympathy, maybe, or understanding—but it made me feel way too exposed. Nope. Time to switch gears again. I straightened abruptly, plastering on a smirk.

“Anyway,” I said flippantly, “don’t think I’m trying to give you some life-changing pep talk or whatever. You’re gonna do what you wanna do. Honestly, I don’t even get the hype about football. It’s boring.” I paused, pretending to consider something, before brightening. “Actually… kinda like you! Maybe you are meant to play!”

Stefan blinked, and then, to my disbelief, he smiled while chuckling softly. The kind of amused, easygoing smile that I’d assume Damon would’ve turned into an opportunity for banter, but Stefan? He just rolled with it, like he was determined to stay above the jab. Was he even capable of getting offended?

He was totally just taking it to stay on Elena’s good side, wasn’t he?

Stefan focused back on the field and after a second of contemplation he hoisted himself up.

“You’re right, Emery,” he said, brushing off his jeans as if they weren’t already spotless. Loser. “It won’t hurt to at least try.”

I grinned, pointing at him in mock triumph. “Atta boy! And just think, if I hadn’t come over here to talk, you’d still be sitting here alone like a total creeper.”

“Gee, I suppose I owe you one now, huh?” he said, playing along as he started toward the steps.

“Eh, I’ll cash it in later,” I replied with a dismissive wave. “Now shoo. Go make friends and then beat ‘em up—or whatever it is football players do.”

Stefan laughed, shaking his head as he jogged down the bleachers toward Tanner.

I leaned back again, watching him strike up a conversation with the coach before jogging off toward the locker room. Hopefully, he was good at this football thing; otherwise, I’d just wasted perfectly good sarcasm on him. At least he seemed a little less broody. That counted as my good deed for the day, right? Maybe he’d pass it on to Elena and get her off my back for a while.

When he was out of sight, I moved to the bottom of the bleachers, resting my arms on the edge as I glanced across the field. The cheerleaders were starting their stretches, their bright pom-poms scattered across the grass like oversized daisies. Movement caught my eye off to the right, and I spotted Elena, finally showing up in her practice clothes.

She lingered near the edge of the field, looking a little lost, her hands fidgeting at her sides. I watched as she scanned the crowd, her shoulders sagging in relief when she finally spotted Bonnie stretching nearby. With a deep breath, Elena strode toward her friend, her steps gaining a bit more confidence with each one.

I rested my chin on my arms, feeling a familiar pang of frustration. Yeah, she’d totally lost her spark for cheerleading. And even though it was upsetting to see, I got it. Everything changed after our parents died. We weren’t the same anymore. But we had to learn to deal with it, make it work somehow. It was a little heartbreaking, though, at how much my siblings had changed, especially in the not-so-good ways.

I flipped to a fresh page in my sketchbook and grabbed my charcoal, the black stains on my fingers smudging even more as I worked. Fast, wispy strokes brought vague outlines to life, capturing the girls as they shifted between poses. The cheerleaders eventually grew bored, flopping onto the grass while they waited for Caroline to show up. I frowned, tapping the edge of my sketchbook impatiently. Seriously, where was she? I was running out of patience over here. I need some action poses to keep this interesting!

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flash of a sleek, blue Camaro pulling into the parking lot near the field. The blaring music that followed earned a few disapproving looks from the girls, but my interest piqued. That car was stunning. I debated sketching it, already picturing the interplay of light and shadow on the glossy finish and the sharp contours of its body.

As I was reaching for my iPod to drown out the football clatter with some Arctic Monkeys, the car door swung open, and out stepped Caroline. She strutted onto the field, all confidence and sass, tossing a smug look Elena’s way before sauntering off to start practice. My hand froze mid-reach.

What the hell was that about?

I turned my attention back to the Camaro, narrowing my eyes as I tried to figure out who was behind the wheel. Was that—Damon? Caroline was hanging out with Damon Salvatore? Were we in some kind of alternate reality now? There was no way they clicked!

He didn’t stick around long, peeling out of the parking lot before I could fully process what I’d just seen. Elena watched him go, looking just as baffled as I felt.

“Well, then,” I muttered under my breath, gripping my charcoal tighter. “This day just keeps getting weirder.”

I stayed on the bleachers for a while longer, watching as practice limped along. Elena was sent to the back after fumbling a routine, and honestly, I couldn’t blame them. Her heart clearly wasn’t in it anymore. Frustrated and bored, I stuffed my sketchbook back into my bag and slung it over my shoulder, deciding to call it.

Walking along the edge of the field, I selected a new playlist on my iPod, letting Bon Iver’s soothing tones soften the edges of my irritation. Maybe I’d work on my painting until Elena was done. I wasn’t sure yet if she’d ride home with me or Bonnie, but either way, I needed a break from this circus.

Just as I was about to pass the lockers, I saw someone jogging out onto the field. It was Stefan, fully geared up in football pads now. Curious, I stopped to watch. He crossed the field, blending seamlessly into the practice like he’d been doing it for years. Within minutes, it was clear—he was good. Really good.

I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Well, looks like it wasn’t a waste of time after all.”

With that, I turned and headed back toward the school, the music in my ears drowning out the distant shouts and whistles from the field.

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I’d hoped I could get away with not going home until the dreaded dinner party was over. Maybe I’d hang out at The Grill with Matt after I inevitably got kicked out of the art room. Elena must’ve ridden home with Bonnie, I assumed, since she hadn’t bothered to text or meet up with me. Just when I thought I was in the clear and she had forgotten about “inviting” me, my phone buzzed.

Elena’s name flashed brightly on the screen.

I muted it and shoved it back in my bag. Nope. Not dealing with that right now.

I picked up my brush again, my attention shifting back to the canvas in front of me. The painting was starting to take shape, even with only the base layers completed. But I could feel myself approaching that delicate tipping point—the moment when pushing forward without pause could risk undoing the progress I’d made. Especially with the crow’s eye—a subtle self-portrait hidden in the detail. I needed to step back, let it breathe, and return with fresh eyes. That pause always worked wonders.

“Still here?”

The familiar voice made me glance up. Sonia stood in the doorway, her auburn brow arched as she balanced a stack of folders and binders in her arms.

“Still here?” I echoed, a smirk tugging at my lips. I turned back to my canvas as she shuffled in, dropping the pile onto her desk with a dramatic huff.

“This is my job,” she emphasized. “I’m stuck working even after school hours. What’s your excuse? It’s 6:00 p.m. on a Friday. Be a teenager—go out, have fun with friends.”

I rolled my eyes. “I have plans.”

“Oh? Then why are you still here?”

“Trying to pretend I forgot I had plans.”

She scoffed. “I thought you were over your loner phase?”

I ignored the teasing lilt, pretending I didn’t hear it. Sonia’s dress swished against the floor, her flats clicking softly as she came up behind me. She peered over my shoulder, scrutinizing my work.

“Careful. It looks like you’re layering a little too thickly. You should let it dry over the weekend before adding more.”

She wasn’t wrong. I knew I’d have to stop soon anyway—I wasn’t about to risk ruining it. Oil painting wasn’t something you could rush. Well, you could, but wet-on-wet techniques weren’t really my thing. With a sigh, I swirled my brushes in the turpentine jar, the smell hardly noticeable to me anymore. My family, on the other hand, would complain whenever I pulled out my oil paints at home.

Sonia lingered, arms crossed, clearly waiting.

As I wiped the stains off my fingers and arms with a turpentine-soaked towel, I caved. “Elena’s hosting some stupid dinner party for her new boyfriend and Bonnie, trying to get them to like each other,” I said casually.

“And you don’t like her boyfriend either.” Sonia’s observation made me wince. How did she do that? “So, she invited you, hoping you’d warm up to him, too?”

I nodded begrudgingly. “Pretty much. God forbid I don’t like someone she does…” I trailed off, rolling my eyes. Elena already forced her friends on me, and honestly, she was lucky that even worked out.

“Mm.” Sonia’s gaze flicked to my canvas, then back to me. “What is it you don’t like about him?”

I paused, tapping my brush against the edge of the table as I tried to put my feelings into words. “It’s not like I hate the guy or anything,” I said slowly. “I just find him… I don’t know, too serious? Distant? He’s always so composed and proper—like he’s trying way too hard to impress everyone. And the thing is, I’m almost positive he doesn’t care about anyone but Elena.”

Sonia nodded, clearly understanding. “You prefer people who are more genuine, the kind who don’t seem like they’re performing.”

“Exactly!” I said, relieved she got it. “It’s exhausting. And if he wasn’t dating my sister, I probably wouldn’t even give him the time of day.”

She tilted her head with a hum, studying me like she always did when she was gearing up to challenge my perspective. “Are you sure you’re not misinterpreting him? It’s not unusual to try to impress someone you like.”

I exhaled slowly, gripping the edge of the table. “I mean, sure,” I admitted, reluctantly. “It’s just… I’ve seen him in action, and it feels like he’s more concerned with projecting an image of who he thinks he needs to be, than actually connecting with people. Impressing someone is one thing, but it shouldn’t feel like a act.”

An image of Stefan sitting all by his lonesome on the bleachers flashed to the forefront of my mind. I supposed his brooding moments had never seemed like a performance…

Logically, I knew Sonia had a point. Stefan was new here. Starting over at a new school had to be tough. I understand how hard it could be to open up to people and let them see the real you. And he had mentioned something about knowing what it was like to build walls around yourself. He didn’t elaborate, but I had a hunch that losing his parents and having a brother like Damon had a lot to do with it. Even though I hadn’t even seen them together yet, I could already sense the tension between them. If I ever ended up in the same room as the two of them, I’d probably need a helmet and a fire extinguisher.

As for Elena… I just didn’t get it. Stefan came out of nowhere, and suddenly they were smitten. Like, cartoon-level hearts-in-the-eyes smitten. I had never seen something like that in real life. Hell, I’d never felt anything like that before… so maybe I wasn’t in a position to judge. Still, something about it just didn’t sit right with me.

And no, I was not jealous. Absolutely not.

“I know you’re not jealous,” Sonia said, interrupting my spiral of thoughts with a soft laugh, making me flush.

Damn it. I must’ve said that last part out loud.

She smiled knowingly, leaning back against the table with that calm, teasing demeanor of hers. “But knowing you—and I like to think being your art teacher for the past few years has earned me some insight—anything involving your sister is an instant trigger for your moods and reactions to people.”

I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. “I’m not that bad,” I muttered, though I could see her point. Plenty of people had fawned over Elena or tried to befriend her over the years, and I hadn’t cared one bit.

But maybe it wasn’t that Stefan was with Elena.

Maybe it was that Elena was with Stefan.

I ran my fingers through my hair, trying to sort through the tangled mess of feelings in my head. “I don’t know,” I admitted finally. “I guess I was just hoping she’d give it more time. Try to find herself again before jumping back into something so serious. A lot has happened to her already this year and… I just don’t want to see this end badly.”

Sonia pulled up a stool and sat beside me, her voice softening. “I understand where you’re coming from, Emery. You care about her—it’s natural to want to protect someone you love, especially after everything you’ve both been through.” She eyed me at that, and I looked down at my lap. “But people have to make their own choices. Sometimes, they need to learn from their experiences, even if it doesn’t go the way we’d like.”

I tilted my head, letting her words sink in. She wasn’t saying anything I hadn’t already thought about—I had told Elena I wouldn’t validate her anymore, that I couldn’t always give her the answers. But hearing it from someone else helped reinforcement that mindset a little.

“Relationships help shape us,” she continued. “They don’t define us entirely, but they play a role in who we become—or at least who we decide we don’t want to be. Maybe this relationship is part of your sister’s journey. Maybe Stefan gives her something she needs right now, even if it doesn’t make sense to you.”

She reached over and squeezed my hand gently. “You’re a good sister, Emery. It’s okay to be worried, but don’t let it consume you. Sometimes all you can do is be there for her and trust that she’ll figure it out.”

I stared at the half-finished painting in front of me, the colors blurring into an indistinct haze under the studio lights the longer I looked. “Yeah,” I said finally, though the knot in my chest didn’t fully ease. “I know.”

I glanced at her, offering a wry smile. “That was deep.”

Sonia’s brown eyes crinkled charmingly as she smiled. “Life tends to get deep. Sometimes all it takes is a bit of perspective to put you on the right path. I’ve been around the block a few times, you know.”

I grinned, appreciating her candidness, even though she made herself sound so old, despite only being in her thirties. “Yeah, and you always seem to know just what to say.”

“It comes with the territory of being an art teacher,” she replied with a wink. “Sometimes, looking within yourself creates the greatest inspiration.”

I laughed. “Have I ever told you that you should be a motivational speaker? I’d be the first in line for your TED Talk.”

“Many times.” She gave me an sly look, her dress billowing back down to her feet as she stood. “Maybe in another life. But for now, I’ll stick to teaching art—and imparting a little unsolicited life advice here and there.”

I laughed again, feeling lighter than I had all evening.

It was quiet after that, as Sonia went back to sorting through her work at her desk. I sat for a moment longer before abruptly jumping off the stool. “Alright, too many feels in this room now. I’m outta here.”

“Just as I planned,” Sonia said with a triumphant smirk, looking up from an open folder. “Now, go to that dinner party and make nice with your sister’s boyfriend.”

I stuck my tongue out at her.

She laughed. “I’m serious. It might not be as bad as you think. Who knows? You might even end up liking him.”

I made a face, grabbing my bag as I headed for the door. “We’ll see. Either Stefan will surprise me, or I’ll need a mountain of dessert to survive the night.”

“One step at a time,” Sonia called after me, her voice thoughtful. “And remember—sometimes it’s the people we least expect who teach us the most about ourselves.”

I didn’t respond, but her words lingered in my mind as I left the studio.

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I took my sweet time getting home, which in retrospect, was probably a dumb thing to do.

“What took you so long? It’s after seven. Why didn’t you answer any of my calls? Were you planning on not showing up, Emery?” Elena interrogated as soon as I walked through the front door. Bonnie stood behind her, shooting me a sympathetic look.

I blinked, momentarily taken aback by the onslaught. “Um…” My mind drew a blank under the instant bombardment.

“Well?” she prodded, hands planted firmly on her hips.

“I was doing homework,” I answered slowly, the excuse falling from my lips with uncertainty. Technically, I wasn’t lying. My painting could count as homework, right?

Elena raised a brow, clearly not believing me. God, this girl and her horrible trust issues. Not that I could really blame her right now…

“Ugh, I’m here now, what does it even matter? You said it was at eight,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes as I dropped my bag on the floor.

“When you didn’t answer any of my calls, I assumed you either forgot or were pretending to forget,” she snapped back, her tone tinged with frustration.

Ah, she knows me so well… I pulled out my phone, noticing four missed calls. Whoops. “Forgot I kept my phone on silent,” I replied sheepishly, quickly unmuting it.

“Elena?” Bonnie’s voice cut through the tension. She diverted my sister’s attention with a calm smile. Bless her. “We should probably get the food set up.” She held up a plastic bag with the logo for our local Italian restaurant.

I looked at my sister pointedly, a smirk tugging at my lips. “Takeout, Elena? Really?”

My sister blushed. “I figured it was the safer option. He’ll never know. Besides, you wouldn’t answer your phone. I figured you’d refuse to cook.”

I probably would have. Unless for some crazy reason she decided to cook instead. I may not care for Stefan, but I didn’t want to see him poisoned to death.

I started backing away. “Well, I’m gonna go change. Be back down in a sec,” I announced, quickly escaping up the stairs before Elena remembered she was mad at me.

“Dress casual, but nice!” Elena yelled after me. “And no graphic tees.”

I looked upwards with a groan. “Ugh, you’re no fun.”

As I walked down the hall to my room, I wondered where Jeremy and Jenna were. Jeremy clearly wasn’t here because his TV wasn’t blasting the sounds of his video games, and Jenna would’ve greeted me as soon as I slammed the front door shut. I guess I wasn’t surprised Jenna was giving Elena the space to play adult—she probably thought it was cute—but I was disappointed she wouldn’t be joining us. It’d be way more fun with her here.

I flicked on the light to my room and immediately went to my closet. I already knew what I was going to wear: a sleeveless sheer black button-up with a teal tank underneath. It was comfortable and stylish, and the color popped underneath in just the right way. I paired it with a dark pair of leggings since I wasn’t about to wear anything tight while trying to stuff my face with pasta.

In the bathroom, I hastily tied my hair into a messy high ponytail, switched up my lobe and helix piercings for something flashier, and then touched up my winged eyeliner—the smudged edges were driving me crazy.

“Oh, come on. That commercials on a constant loop,” I overheard Elena say with amusement as I walked into the kitchen. The scent of garlic and tomato sauce filled the air, making my stomach grumble in response. Bonnie was looking a little apprehensive as the two were sliding the takeout food into our nice ceramic bowls. I rolled my eyes, sitting down at the island to watch them work, not offering to help.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

“Bonnie was telling me about all the witch-y stuff that keeps happening to her,” Elena answered with a teasing smile, clearly not convinced.

Bonnie hesitated, then gave in. “Fine. Well, how about this? Today I’m obsessed with numbers. Three numbers. I keep seeing 8, 14, and 22. How weird is that?” It was clearly working her up, but as far as I knew, the numbers held no significance to me.

Elena turned to her mock seriously. “Maybe we should play the lottery.” She then laughed. As the unamused Bennett shot her a look, Elena relented a little. “Have you talked to your grams about this?”

Bonnie shook her head. “She’s just gonna say it’s because I’m a witch. I don’t want to be a witch. Do you want to be a witch?”

Elena grimaced at the thought. “I don’t want to be a witch.”

I leaned forward, a wicked grin forming on my face. “I wanna be a witch,” I announced enthusiastically.

Both of them stared at me like I was crazy.

“What?” I defended, shrugging. “It would be cool. You should embrace it, Bonnie!” I encouraged.

Bonnie turned away, clearly in denial. “There’s nothing to embrace. I’m not a witch. And putting it in a nice bowl isn’t fooling anybody, Elena,” she chided, quickly changing the subject, but Elena wasn’t really bothered by either point.

“Okay, serving spoons. Where are the serving spoons?” Elena muttered to herself, rummaging through the drawers.

I was about to tell her when Bonnie piped up. “Little drawer on your left.”

Elena flashed her a questioning look as she opened said drawer. “Okay, so you’ve been in this kitchen like a thousand times.”

Though it was true, Bonnie didn’t actually cook in it, other than the few times she helped us bake desserts together during sleepovers.

“Yeah, that’s it,” Bonnie replied dryly.

I grinned, instantly intrigued. Bonnie kept talking about this witch stuff, but this was the first time I’d seen even the slightest bit of proof.

The doorbell rang, and I deflated, sinking in my seat. Elena pointed at me sternly. “Okay, he’s here. You, be nice. And you,” she turned to Bonnie with a smile and clasp of her hands. “Don’t be nervous. Just be your normal, loving self.”

Bonnie still looked a little nervous as my sister left the room. I decided to use the bathroom real quick to give her some space to collect herself. I took my time, half-considering hiding out there for the duration of Stefan’s visit.

As I washed my hands, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the situation. Me, trying to avoid a dinner with my sister’s new boyfriend? It was like something out of a cheesy sitcom.

What even is my life right now?

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Chapter Text

Seven

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Oh my god—kill me now.

This was torture. Pure, unadulterated, social agony. The dinner was so mind-numbingly boring it felt like my brain was actively trying to escape my skull. Not to mention the awkwardness. Bonnie had gone full-on stoic the moment Stefan walked through the door, shutting down every attempt at conversation like she was batting away flies. Not that I could blame her. The vibes were… tense, to say the least.

And, okay, fine—I wasn’t doing much better. Small talk and I had a longstanding grudge against each other, and tonight wasn’t the night for reconciliation. Elena, though, was playing the perfect hostess, soldiering on with unrelenting determination, trying to piece together a conversation from scraps. Honestly, I had to respect the effort, even if it made me feel secondhand exhaustion just watching her.

Bonnie, my partner in silent rebellion, shifted uncomfortably in her chair next to me, sneaking a sidelong glance at me that practically screamed, Do something, please. Her dark olive green eyes were filled with a desperate plea, like she wanted me to cause some kind of chaos to free us from this misery. I shot her an equally tortured look in return, wordlessly communicating, I feel you, but no way am I risking Elena’s wrath for this.

After what felt like an eternity of chewing, sipping, and oppressive silence, Elena made another valiant attempt to salvage the evening. “Did Tanner give you a hard time today?” she asked Stefan, her tone almost unnaturally chipper. The poor girl was carrying this entire dinner on her back, and I couldn’t help but admire the sheer tenacity of it.

Stefan, ever the polite one, gave her a small smile as he answered with light humor. “Well, he let me on the team, so I must’ve done something right.” Then, to my utter surprise, he turned his attention to me. “I’ve been meaning to thank you, Emery, for giving me that push to try out.”

I blinked, caught off guard. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. His smile seemed genuine. Like, actual gratitude genuine. Was this the first time I’d seen him smile like that at anyone other than Elena? The sincerity threw me off, and for a second, I found myself recalling my earlier conversation with Sonia about him.

I shrugged, keeping my expression neutral as I looked down and twirled my fork in the limp remains of my pasta. “No big deal,” I muttered. “Like I said, I’ll cash in my favor later.”

Elena’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. She looked positively ecstatic at the idea of Stefan and me having a civil exchange. “When did this happen?” she asked, leaning forward slightly.

Before Stefan could answer, I jumped in, unable to resist the opportunity to spin the story in my favor. “Oh, during practice. He was creepin’ on the team from the bleachers,” I said, then waved my fork for dramatic effect. “I figured if I didn’t talk to him, he might, I don’t know, jump out of the stands and do something drastic. You know how stalkers can be.”

Bonnie snorted into her glass of water, her shoulders shaking as she tried to hide her laughter. It was a brief respite from the tension, and I relished in the small victory of disrupting the awkwardness, even if just for a moment.

Elena frowned at me, clearly regretting asking the question now. “Em,” she said, her tone equal parts disapproving and exasperated.

Stefan, however, took no offense like always. “I mean it, though. Thank you. I owe you one. It felt good to play again. Honestly, I don’t think I would’ve gotten off the bleachers without that push.”

Encouragement? That’s what he was calling it? Wow. This guy might’ve been the most unflappably nice person I’d ever met, even in the face of my obvious taunting. His reply clashed so hard with my preconceived notion of him that I didn’t even know how to process it. Was he… unironically sweet?

“Yeah, well, don’t worry about it. Just don’t expect me to cheer you on from the sidelines or anything. I’ve got a strict ‘no pom-poms policy,” I quipped. Any cheering on my end was reserved for Matt, and Matt alone. Okay, and maybe Tyler… depending on how I was feeling.

Stefan chuckled again, as if I’d made some kind of clever joke. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said easily. Then, in a softer, more serious tone, he added, “But I was being serious—if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Elena beamed at our exchange, her smile practically glowing. It didn’t take a mind reader to see how pleased she was with the way Stefan handled me. If I had to guess, she was probably thinking something like See? You two can totally get along if you just try.

Annoying. Beyond annoying.

Turning her attention to Bonnie, Elena launched into a new attempt to engage the table. “Bonnie, you should’ve seen Stefan today. Tyler threw a ball right at him, and—”

Bonnie cut her off curtly. “Yeah, I heard.”

The sudden coldness hit the air like a slap, and Elena’s face fell for just a moment before she masked it by taking a sip of her drink. I watched the exchange, fighting the urge to say something. Look, not liking Stefan? I got it. Hell, I could write a book on it. But snapping at Elena when she was just trying to keep things afloat? That crossed the line.

Bonnie must’ve realized it too because she dropped her gaze, suddenly preoccupied with pushing food around on her plate. Her guilt was written all over her face, and I forced myself to stay quiet, biting back the comment I wanted to throw her way. The table was awkward enough without me piling on.

Even Stefan was starting to look uncomfortable, which was a sight to behold. The guy seemed like he could endure just about anything with his eternally calm demeanor, but even he had his limits, apparently.

But determined as ever, Elena shifted gears yet again. This time, she decided to go the family-history route, which I knew from experience was a mixed bag at best. My skepticism was proven right when Bonnie only half-listened—until, that was, Elena brought up the witch part.

Why she hyped up this witch stuff when Bonnie couldn’t even decide if she believed in it herself was beyond me. But hey, not my circus, not my monkeys.

“Cool isn’t the word I’d use,” Bonnie replied to Elena’s up talk of witches, her tone flat as she poked at her dinner.

“Well, it’s certainly interesting,” Stefan chimed in, clearly trying to smooth things over. “I’m not too versed, but I do know there’s a history of Celtic druids that migrated here in the 1800s.” His sounded almost overly scholarly, like a professor giving a lecture. Good show, old chap, I thought sarcastically.

Bonnie barely reacted. “My family came by way of Salem.”

Stefan perked up at that, his expression lighting with real interest this time. “Really? Salem witches?”

“Yeah.”

“I would say that’s pretty cool.”

“Really? Why?” she asked, now intrigued as she leaned a little closer.

“Salem witches are heroic examples of individualism and nonconformity.”

Bonnie’s lips curved into a smile, her earlier irritation melting away as she straightened in her chair, suddenly looking proud of her witch history. Really, this girl needed to make up her mind already.

“Yeah, they are,” she agreed, her voice tinged with newfound confidence.

And just like that, he had her. Hook, line, and sinker.

Way to go, Steffy, I thought dryly. Tell her exactly what every teenager wanted to hear—how special and unique they were. Classic move.

Still, I couldn’t entirely blame him. The guy had managed to salvage what was shaping up to be a train wreck of a dinner, even if his tactics were a little too smooth for my taste. Elena, of course, looked thrilled with this sudden turnaround, probably because she knew that unlike me, Bonnie wasn’t just going to do a one-eighty and mess any progress up.

Before the conversation could pick up again, the doorbell chimed. I leaned sideways in my chair, craning my neck like that would somehow let me see who was at the door. Naturally, I almost fell out of my seat for my trouble.

“Please tell me you didn’t invite anyone else…” I whined after pulling myself back up, ignoring the twitch of Stefan’s lips as he watched me struggle.

Elena frowned as she stood, brushing invisible crumbs off her hands. “No, I didn’t. I wonder who it could be.” She moved toward the door, her pace slow with hesitation.

“Surprise!”

If the voice didn’t give it away, the flash of blonde hair certainly did. I groaned loudly, slumping into my chair as if I could sink into the floor and escape. Caroline. Of course.

Stefan and Bonnie both turned to me, their confusion written all over their faces.

“Bonnie said you were doing dinner, so we brought dessert,” Caroline chirped.

I swiveled my glare to Bonnie, who immediately dropped her gaze and started fiddling with her napkin like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen. Traitor.

“Oh,” Elena said, the polite tone in her voice failing to mask her irritation. She hadn’t invited Caroline for a reason, and now her plans for the evening were officially hijacked.

“Hope you don’t mind,” came a second voice, smooth and far too easily identifiable, despite only meeting once.

I sat up abruptly.

Not a second later, Stefan shot up from his seat like a spring, his body language tense as he strode to the front door. “What are you doing here?” he asked, more accusatory than surprised.

“Waiting for Elena to invite me in,” Damon answered, with the kind of forced politeness that made my skin itch.

“Oh, yeah, you can—”

“No, no, no,” Stefan interrupted quickly, practically tripping over his words in his haste. “He can’t… uh… he can’t stay. Can you, Damon?”

The tension between them made me shift uncomfortably. Stefan’s reaction bothered me more than Damon and Caroline’s surprise presence, which was saying something. Sure, I thought Damon was cool the last time we met—definitely cooler than his uptight brother—but the way Stefan was acting made it painfully clear that having them in the same room was a recipe for disaster. Especially in our house.

“Get in here,” Caroline piped in at the awkward silence, sounding somewhere between nervous and embarrassed. I couldn’t tell for sure.

I stood up and walked over, deciding to throw in my two cents before things got worse.

“We’re just… finishing up,” Stefan insisted, and I appeared in the hallway just in time to catch him glancing at Elena like he was begging her to back him up.

Elena, being Elena, didn’t pick up on his desperation. She shook her head, clearly not thinking it was worth the fight. “It’s fine. Just come on in.”

I clenched my jaw. Damn it, Elena. Thanks for consulting me first.

Damon stepped inside with smug, triumphant smirk plastered on his face, the same leather jacket and messy hair making him look like he walked out of a James Dean tribute. As soon as I saw that look, I knew he was here to stir the pot. Without a word, I turned on my heel and headed back toward the kitchen. No point in arguing if my sister wasn’t even going to take my side. Too bad they were blocking the stairs—I’d have made a break for it otherwise.

“You have a beautiful home, Elena,” Damon complimented, his voice dripping with charm.

“Thank you,” Elena replied politely, though a little distant.

Bonnie slipped into the kitchen behind me, her expression souring at the uninvited guests. Caroline came in first, setting a pie on the counter with a cheery smile. “Bonnie! Emery! How’s the dinner party going? Damon and I decided to stop in. We brought pie!”

Bonnie mumbled a half-hearted, “Hey, Caroline. It’s going good,” while I ignored her completely, too annoyed to fake pleasantries.

Damon strolled in like he owned the place, and his eyes landed on me instantly, not looking at all surprised to see me here, which made sense—I’d already mentioned my connection to Elena the other day.

“Emery,” he greeted with a smirk just as the other two followed in behind. “We meet again. How’s life treating you today?”

I crossed my arms, leaning against the counter with an unimpressed glare. “Better before you showed up,” I replied coolly.

I caught the slight tightening of Stefan’s jaw, his expression souring as he realized we already knew each other. Elena and Bonnie, on the other hand, both perked up with curiosity.

Damon chuckled, entirely unfazed. “You certainly know how to make a guy feel welcome.”

Caroline frowned, glancing between us like she was trying to piece together a puzzle. “Wait, you already know each other?”

“Yeah,” I said casually as I inspected my nails. “He wanted me to be his murder accomplice at the comet festival.”

“What?” Stefan snapped harshly, glare darting to his brother.

Damon looked absolutely delighted.

Gee, what was Stefan’s problem? He was nothing but amused by me before and now he finally decided to react negatively?

I rolled my eyes. “Relax, Steffy. Don’t get your panties in a twist. He stopped by my booth for face painting during the comet festival, but it got too dark, so we just talked instead. Which—by the way—thanks for not visiting my booth.”

Seriously, it would have been the perfect chance to paint a curly mustache and a monocle on his face.

Stefan turned away, slightly embarrassed. Damon, meanwhile, was clearly trying to hold back his pleasure at the interaction.

Elena clapped her hands together, forcing a change in subject. “Well, we just finished dinner, so I guess this is the perfect time for dessert. I’ll grab some plates. Who wants pie?”

I coughed dramatically, drawing everyone’s attention. “Actually, I think it’s time for you to hold up your end of the deal, Elena,” I declared, deadly serious.

The room went quiet. Caroline leaned forward eagerly, clearly hoping for some juicy drama, while Damon raised an intrigued eyebrow. Even Stefan and Bonnie looked puzzled by my sudden shift in tone.

Elena sighed, clearly exasperated, and went to the freezer. “You’re so dramatic,” she muttered before pulling out a pint of strawberry cheesecake ice cream and holding it up.

I snatched it out of her hands with a grin. “You even got my favorite!”

Caroline let out an audible sigh of disappointment. “Of course.”

Grabbing a spoon, I skipped into the living room and flopped sideways onto the armchair, digging into the ice cream without a care in the world. Let them deal with the awkwardness. I was set for the night.

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Everyone else joined me a few minutes later, Elena and Bonnie the only ones with a slice of pie. Damn, I was hoping they would keep it going in the dining room. Should’ve gone straight to my room after all…

Bonnie sat on the sofa adjacent to me, Elena next to her, and Stefan on the other end. Damon settled into the armchair across from me, with Caroline perching herself on the armrest. I focused on my ice cream and the large notepad in my lap that I doodled on, having swiped it from the side table. Pretending I wasn’t annoyed by the sudden crowd, I alternated my attention between my two favorite things.

Elena started to rehash the conversation from earlier, explaining the whole football fiasco to Caroline since she skipped school and missed it, very obviously having spent the day with Damon. What were these two even doing with each other? Tisk. And to think, I had thought the guy was kinda cool.

Caroline’s eyes lit up as she soaked in the gossip. “I cannot believe that Mr. Tanner let you on the team. Tyler must be seething. But good for you. Go for it.” She sounded delighted at the idea of Tyler’s bruised ego, her perfectly manicured hand gesturing as if she’d been there to cheer Stefan on herself.

“That’s what I always tell him. You have to engage. You can’t just sit there and wait for life to come to you. You have to go get it.”

The words caught my attention, and I glanced up from my drawing just in time to see Damon gesture emphatically at the end, delivering his little nugget of wisdom like he was the protagonist in some self-help book.

My first thought? That was a bunch of bull.

“Yeah, Elena wasn’t so lucky today,” Caroline added, her sharp tone breaking through my thoughts. She turned to my sister with a saccharine smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s only because you missed summer camp. God, I don’t know how you’re ever going to learn the routines.” Her voice was fake-sweet, but the jab landed all the same.

“I’ll work with her,” Bonnie said immediately, clipped with irritation. “She’ll get it.”

Caroline barely spared Bonnie a glance. “I guess we can just put her in the back,” she mused, as if Elena weren’t even in the room.

I watched my sister carefully. She sat silently, her hands tightening around her mug as she hid behind a polite, if strained, smile. I narrowed my eyes at Caroline, wondering what exactly was going on with her.

“You know,” Damon interjected, “you don’t seem like the cheerleader type, Elena.”

I took another bite of my ice cream, watching Elena smile sheepishly. But before she could respond, Caroline beat her to it.

“Oh, it’s just because their parents died,” Caroline said breezily and far too dismissive as she waved her hand like it wasn’t a big deal. “Yeah, she’s just totally going through a blah phase. She used to be way more fun.”

The room went still.

Caroline’s smile faltered, and panic crossed her face as her words seemed to hit her a second too late. She gave Elena an apologetic look before shooting me an alarmed glance. “And I say that with complete sensitivity!” she added hastily, the words tumbling out in a high-pitched rush.

I leveling her with a cold stare. “Careful, Caroline,” I drawled icily, licking my spoon before waving it lazily in her direction. “I have no problem sacrificing my ice cream for the greater good.”

Caroline’s eyes widened, her nervousness clear as she quickly looked away, discreetly trying to use her arms to cover her outfit. Elena, on the other hand, bit back a smile, her lips twitching just enough for me to notice—so, victory! She knew as well as I did that I didn’t give up my ice cream for just anyone.

Damon, meanwhile, looked highly amused, his dark eyes gleaming with interest. But he quickly shifted gears, slipping on a mask of solemn sympathy so smoothly that it almost fooled me. Almost.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, with just the right amount of sincerity. “I know what it’s like to lose both your parents. In fact, Stefan and I have watched almost every single person we’ve ever cared about die.”

It sounded sincere—right up until that last part, which was so obviously a jab at his brother.

Stefan stiffened, his entire posture radiating discomfort. “We don’t need to get into that right now, Damon,” he said tightly, his tone edging toward warning.

Damon shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, you know what, you’re right, Stef. I’m sorry. The last thing I want to do is upset you by bringing her up.”

Stefan’s expression darkened in a telltale way that said Damon had hit a nerve. Elena glanced between them, clearly confused but unwilling to ask right now.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out who “she” was. A certain ex-girlfriend, no doubt. Damon was clearly relishing every second of this, riling his brother up in front of an audience that had no idea they’d signed up for the show. Ugh, I knew I wouldn’t like these two under the same roof.

The tension in the room thickened, so uncomfortably tangible that no one seemed willing to address it or even make the next move. Which was probably why Damon was the one to speak up again first.

“But hey,” Damon said airily, as if we weren’t all knee-deep in that tension, “grief looks different on everyone, right? Some people cry their eyes out. Others…” His gaze slid lazily across the room, landing on Elena, and then me, his smirk sharpening just slightly. “Hold it all in. Makes you wonder how they don’t implode.”

I rolled my eyes at his implication, fighting the urge to chuck my spoon at him. As if he knew anything about us.

Caroline jumped on the opportunity to redirect the attention back to her—or, more likely, to her passive-aggressive critiques of everyone else.

“Exactly!” she said, perking up like Damon’s comment had been a perfectly teed-up assist. She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger, flashing me a saccharine smile that made my teeth grind. “Like Emery. I mean, it’s kind of impressive, really. Like, she didn’t even cry at—”

“Caroline.” I cut her off before she could finish that sentence.

All eyes snapped to me, Elena and Bonnie giving me worried looks. Even Damon, who’d been leaning back in his chair listening, straightened up slightly.

Caroline huffed under my glare, her hands fluttering as she tried to backtrack. “I just meant—it’s not a bad thing! You’re just, you know, really… strong? Like, way stronger than me. I would’ve been a total mess. It’s like it didn’t even phase you when your parents—”

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by the satisfying thunk of a spoonful of ice cream smacking her square in the face.

Damn, and I was aiming for her shirt. Would’ve been even better if I got Damon too… Now I was kinda curious how he would’ve reacted.

Caroline gasped, a shrill, indignant shriek tearing past her lips as the melted spoonful of my dessert dripped down her cheek. “Emery!” She stumbled to her feet, nearly shoving Damon back in the process. “You—what—you seriously just threw ice cream at me! What are you—a toddler?”

“Oops,” I said flatly, setting my spoon back in the tub. “My bad.”

The room was dead silent for half a second, and then Bonnie choked out a laugh, quickly covering her mouth with her hand. I grinned at her. How’s that for the chaos you wanted?

Even Stefan turned his head away, clearly trying to hold back a smile.

Caroline’s face contorted with fury and humiliation as she raised a hand to wipe her face, trying (and failing) to keep the melted dessert from dripping down to her neck. “You’re insane,” she hissed.

“Probably,” I said, with a shrug. “But hey, at least I’m not rude enough to bring up someone’s dead parents at a dinner party.”

Her face turned an impressive shade of red as her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, no comeback at the ready.

Elena, who had been sitting frozen with her mouth wide open, finally snap out of it, jumping to her feet. “Oh my god. Em.” She quickly handed Caroline her crumbled pie napkin.

Caroline snatched it from her, dabbing furiously at her face. “Aren’t you going to say something? She’s your sister,” she demanded, her voice shrill as she turned on Elena.

Elena cringed, clearly torn between mature diplomacy and you had it coming. “Uh…”

Damon’s carefully constructed mask of fake concern cracked like glass, saving her from replying. His shoulders shook with barely contained laughter, and when Caroline spun on him, his grin broke free. “Caroline, babe,” he choked out, struggling to sound even remotely sympathetic. “It’s… unfortunate,” he cleared his throat, clearly trying to mask a chuckle, “but there’s no need to overreact.”

“Care, she did warn you,” Bonnie chimed in, her voice wobbling as she also tried to keep a straight face. “And hey, at least it didn’t get on your clothes.”

Caroline flushed deeper, her face now an alarming shade of crimson. She let out an inarticulate noise of frustration and stormed to the bathroom, her heels clicking furiously against the floor.

“Caroline!” Elena called after her. The moment she disappeared from the room, Elena turned on me, her expression somewhere between exasperation and disbelief. “Real mature, Emery,” she huffed, bending to gather the plates and mugs scattered across the coffee table now that things had gone south. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, I did,” I replied, utterly unapologetic.

Elena shook her head. “You ruined the dinner party,” she mumbled to me. But there was no real heat in her words. I knew when she was really upset, and this clearly didn’t bother her like her words insisted.

“You’re welcome,” I said with a sweet smile.

Bonnie snorted into her hand, not worried about holding back her reaction now. “I can’t believe you did that.”

Stefan, though, looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself—unsure whether to be amused or disapproving, and clearly getting mixed signals from us. The poor guy, he was in for a treat being Elena’s boyfriend.

“Well, someone has to apologize to her,” Elena muttered, giving me a pointed look.

“Good luck with that,” I deflected, far too cheerful as I went back to my drawing.

That should finally bring a wrap to this night.

Elena shot me a glare as she scooped up the last of the dishes, about to walk past me to the kitchen. Without looking up from the notepad, I held up my now-empty ice cream tub, the spoon inside. She snatched it from my hand with a roll of her eyes, pausing just long enough to huff in annoyance when she caught a glimpse of what I’d drawn.

She muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “unbelievable” before continuing on her way.

On the pad, I’d sketched a caricature of myself hanging from a noose right in the middle of the living room. Everyone else was scattered around, obliviously chatting away, their exaggerated faces filled with bizarre, unearned glee. The absurdity of it made me grin—not just because it was ridiculous, but because it was the first time in months I’d felt the urge to draw anything remotely creative like this. The fact that it annoyed Elena? Bonus points.

Stefan and Bonnie, the helpful ones, got to tackling the remaining dishes at the dining table.

It wasn’t until the room fell completely silent that I realized I was alone—with Damon.

He lounged in the armchair across from me, his gaze fixed on me with that intensity of his. Ignoring him, I kept my focus on the pad, the pencil moving idly across the paper as if I was the only one left in the room.

“Don’t you just look like the embodiment of fun over there,” he drawled with heavy sarcasm. “Quite the spectacle you just made.”

“It’s my day job. Living the dream,” I replied absently, sketching in some unnecessary lines just to keep busy.

Damon smirked, rising from his chair and sauntering around the couch toward me. “Surprised you haven’t been fired yet.”

With my head all the way back against the armrest, I glanced at him upside-down. “I’m the boss,” I countered, deadpan.

“Ah, that explains everything. No remorse, huh?” Damon asked, leaning against the couch armrest.

My look screamed, What do you think?

He huffed a laugh. “So, what happened to your enabler business? You know, encouraging Mystic Falls’ finest to embrace their homicidal tendencies?”

“Didn’t take off.” I shrugged, fighting the twitch of my lips. “Apparently, there aren’t enough aspiring murderers around here.”

“That’s a shame. I had a glowing review prepared and everything.”

Before I could retort, he plucked the pad from my hands. My spine immediately went rigid, every nerve on edge as he hit one of my biggest pet peeves. “Did you seriously just snatch that from me?” I asked, slow and incredulous.

Damon rolled his eyes, his polite “guest” persona slipping in an instant. “Relax, munchkin. I’m just looking.”

Munchkin?

My jaw dropped. “For the record, I am average height,” I muttered. Not my fault my siblings made me look like the runt of the family…

Unfazed, he studied the caricature, a snort of amusement escaping him. “You’ve got a dark sense of humor. I like it.” He turned the pad toward me with a raised brow.

“Huh, wonder what gave it away,” I replied dryly. “I call it Dinner Party Delight.”

Damon chuckled, tilting the pad back for another view. “Oh, I can tell you’re the life of the party. Let me guess—you’re not a fan of dinner gatherings?”

“Wow, your ability to interpret art is truly unparalleled,” I shot back, the sarcasm thick. “Drawing this was therapeutic. Better this than losing my sanity entirely.”

“Therapeutic, huh?” Damon mused. “I’d hate to see what you come up with when you’re genuinely upset. Especially after that show you just gave us.”

I gave him a side-eye. “Lucky for you, you’re not the subject of my genuine displeasure. Yet.”

“Oh, come on,” he said, folding his arms. “I’ve got thick skin. Try me.”

I rolled my eyes, though the faint smile betrayed me. “You’d regret saying that.”

Damon’s gaze lingered on me, a playful glint sparking in his blue eyes. “Challenge accepted. Now, what’s the story behind Dinner Party Delight? Feeling left out at your sister’s soirée? Don’t get alone with her friends?”

Feigning distress, I sighed theatrically. “Oh, terribly left out. My heart is shattered by the sheer lack of attention I’ve received.”

He laughed, the low sound making my skin prickle. “Must be tough being the misunderstood artist.”

“A tragic existence,” I agreed solemnly, shaking my head. “But I’ll soldier on.”

“Well, as long as this isn’t a cry for help,” he teased, waving the pad in front of me.

“Nah, just a cry for attention,” I remarked with a mischievous grin. Honestly, that wasn’t far from the truth. I’d drawn it partly to get a rise out of Elena. And though not intended, my ice cream act certainly drew everyone’s eye.

“Well, mission accomplished,” Damon replied, stepping closer into my personal bubble. His blue eyes gleamed with that intensity as he winked at me.

I coughed awkwardly, reaching out to snatch the pad back. My fingers clutched it tightly, and I looked down, hiding the warmth creeping up my neck. Damn it. Why did he have to pull that shit with me?

Desperate to divert the conversation, I blurted, “This adult-y stuff is boring. I’m a teenager—I’d rather run rampant in the streets.” Well, it wasn’t entirely true, but it got my point across that I didn’t want to be here. “Elena likes to pretend she’s grown up.”

“If you’re that bored,” Damon said, suddenly serious, “why don’t we both get out of here and have some real fun?”

I blinked at him, thrown off by the suggestion. He couldn’t be serious… could he? “You came here with Caroline,” I reminded him, raising a skeptical brow.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “She won’t mind.”

I gave him a long, dubious look. “For being her boyfriend, you clearly don’t know anything about her. Caroline minds everything—and you didn’t even support her just now. What are you even doing together? You two are polar opposites. I imagine you clash constantly.”

“We’re not serious,” he said, brushing off the question like it was nothing.

“Well, you should probably tell her that,” I replied flatly. “But whatever, it’s obvious you’re both just playing games in your own petty little ways.”

“Oh?” Intrigued, Damon waved a hand out in an inviting gesture. “Enlighten me.”

I sighed, crossing my arms. “You want to get to Stefan, and she wants to get to Elena. It’s textbook. So petty,” I said with a shake of my head. “But you know what? I don’t care who Elena wants to surround herself with. As long as she doesn’t actually get hurt in the process, it’s none of my business.” I shot him a pointed look, figuring he was smart enough catch the underlying warning.

Damon held up his hands in mock surrender, trying to keep a serious face. “Loud and clear. You won’t have any problems with me.”

I rolled my eyes, fighting back a smirk. “Sure. Whatever you say.”

Just then, Caroline reappeared, face scrubbed clean. She flashed me a glare, touchy hands immediately zeroing in on Damon’s arm. I didn’t stick around to watch the display. Jumping up from the armchair, I stretched and announced, “Welp, I’m going to bed. Catch you later.”

Damon’s voice trailed after me as I turned away. “Sweet dreams, Emery.”

Caroline, predictably, didn’t say a word.

I hesitated just outside the living room, hovering in the hallway as a small voice—the infuriatingly reasonable one that sounded suspiciously like Elena—whispered in the back of my mind. Be the bigger person. Don’t let this fester. You used to be good friends. Ugh. I hated when that voice was right.

With a resigned sigh, I turned on my heel and walked back into the room. Caroline was fussing with her hair, clearly doing her best to look unbothered, though her annoyed glances at Damon betrayed her mood.

“Hey,” I said, cutting through her muttering. She glanced back at me, her eyebrows lifting in mild annoyance. Damon watched with open curiosity at my abrupt return.

I moved to shove my hands into my pockets—only to realize, with a twinge of irritation, that leggings didn’t have pockets. Great. I shifted on my feet instead, suddenly feeling more awkward than I already had. Why did I come back in here again? Oh, right. Because apparently, I’d decided I cared about being the bigger person. And wanted a good nights sleep.

“I, uh…” I cleared my throat, glancing briefly at Damon, who looked ready to narrate the whole scene for his own entertainment. Ignoring him, I focused on Caroline, her arms now crossed as she waited. “I shouldn’t have thrown the ice cream at you. It was… childish, and you didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

Caroline blinked at me, her mouth parting slightly in surprise, like I’d just grown a second head. For a second, she didn’t even look mad—just completely thrown off. “Oh.” She quickly recovered, clearing her throat as her gaze flicked somewhere over my shoulder. “Well, I guess I… shouldn’t have brought up—” She stopped short, looking down as she brushed a nonexistent speck of lint off her top in an overly casual way. “I mean, I might’ve gone too far. So… yeah. Sorry, too.”

It wasn’t exactly the heartfelt apology of the century, but for Caroline, it was practically groundbreaking.

“For what it’s worth,” I said, trying to lighten the mood, “there wasn’t much on my spoon. You just got the remnants of the pint.” I offered a crooked grin, hoping humor would ease some of the awkwardness. “And, honestly? Still kind of impressive that you managed to look good even with ice cream on your face. I don’t know how you do it,” I finished with an impressed whistle.

Her lips twitched, and then, despite herself, she let out a soft snort. “Well, I can pull off just about anything.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder with a flair that screamed Caroline Forbes, and in that moment, I knew we were good again.

“And for the record,” she added, leveling me with a pointed look, “if you’d ruined my outfit, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation. This top is brand new.”

“Got it,” I replied dryly. “Next time, I’ll aim for your old shoes.”

She let out a short giggle. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re a perfectionist,” I countered, shrugging lightly before giving her a wink. “Guess we balance each other out.”

Caroline tilted her head, her blue eyes narrowing slightly as she studied me, like she was weighing heavy options. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, she said, “Fine. Truce.”

“Truce,” I echoed, my grin growing.

The moment was promptly interrupted by Damon, who let out an exaggerated groan as he crossed his arms. “Wait. That’s it? One awkward apology and now you’re “besties” again? Where’s the yelling? The hair-pulling? You’re robbing me of a good show here.”

Caroline rolled her eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t fall out of her head. “Not everything’s a soap opera, Damon.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he muttered, falling into the chair and reclining dramatically like a disappointed reality TV producer.

I glanced at him, noticing for the first time how much more relaxed—more himself, maybe—he seemed around Caroline compared to, say, Elena and Bonnie. It was a weird thought, one I didn’t have the energy to unpack, so I shoved it to the back of my mind. They were dating, I guess—however weird it was.

Turning back to Caroline, I caught her eye, and for a brief second, we exchanged a look of mutual understanding that seemed to say, Can you believe this guy?—one of those rare moments where we were actually on the same page.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I sang, directing the comment at Damon as I took a step back.

With that, I gave a quick wave and “goodnight” to Caroline and left them to… whatever their dynamic was.

As I rounded the corner down the hall, I nearly collided with Bonnie and Stefan heading in the opposite direction. Bonnie offered me a tired but polite smile.

“I heard you and Caroline,” she whispered somewhat sheepishly. “She was out of line and definitely deserved it. But thanks for apologize anyway. I wouldn’t have heard the end of it if you two hadn’t made up.”

I shrugged. “Meh, now we can both get a good nights sleep. Which, by the way, is exactly what I’m aiming for right now. ‘Night.”

“‘Night,” Bonnie echoed with a quiet laugh.

Stefan, standing a few feet away, had been watching us the whole time. His brow furrowed, and he gave me one of those looks. The concerned, probing kind that felt like he was trying to peel back layers and figure out what was really going on in my head.

Spoiler alert: nothing worth dissecting.

I didn’t wait for him to say anything. Whatever was brewing in his mind, I wasn’t in the mood to hear it.

“Good night, Emery,” Stefan called after me.

I raised a hand in a lazy wave as I walked down the hall and to the kitchen. I had one last detour before heading upstairs to get ready for dreamland.

Elena was at the sink, rinsing off plates with a level of care that was borderline obsessive. Like, seriously? There was a dishwasher for a reason. But who was I to talk? Elena was always giving me shit about my inadequate cleaning techniques.

“Yo, I’m off to bed,” I said, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe.

She turned, looking faintly surprised. “Already?”

I bit back a sarcastic remark—didn’t she just say I ruined the party? What else was there to do?—and instead gave a nonchalant shrug. “Yup. Social quota filled. Oh, and before you start worrying, I did apologize to Caroline.”

The stunned expression on her face told me that, yes, she hadn’t been expecting that. Ye of little faith, I thought with a mental eye roll. But then, just as I was about to say goodnight and leave, her face shifted. Her shoulders slumped a little, and she lowered the plate she’d been rinsing before turning off the sink.

“Em, I’m sorry,” she said, quieter now. “I shouldn’t have forced you to do this when you didn’t want to. I know you didn’t have fun, but… I just want you to like Stefan so badly. I can’t make you, but—”

And there it was. The guilt spiral. Classic Elena.

I sighed inwardly, then cut her off mid-rant. “It’s not that I… don’t like Stefan,” I said, holding up a hand to stop her before she got too deep into self-recrimination territory.

Her disbelieving look told me she wasn’t buying it.

I groaned, more at myself than her. This was going to sound… mushy. “Okay, look. Sonia kind of made me realize something today. My problem was never really Stefan.” I hesitated, trying to find the right words but failing, so I just spit it out. “It was you.”

“Me?” Elena looked confused and, predictably, a little offended.

“Yeah, you.” I reached up to rake my hand through my hair, then cursed when I remembered I’d tied it up. I let my hand drop awkwardly to my side. “I’ve been all… pushy about you going after what you want, right? But deep down, I guess I didn’t think you should be in a relationship right now. I thought it was too soon after—well, everything.”

Her face fell, just a fraction, but I noticed. Great. I’m officially the worst.

I hurried to keep talking. “But Sonia said something earlier that stuck with me. Sometimes new relationships are exactly what we need to feel… alive again. To start moving forward.” I cringed a little, realizing how cheesy I sounded. “So, yeah. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. Blah, blah, blah.” I waved my hand vaguely in the air like I was brushing it all off. “And I’ll… try to be nicer to Stefan. Even if he is boring,” I couldn’t resist throwing in.

That earned me a sharp look, but it was softened by her growing smile.

“Wow, Emery,” Elena said after a beat, her voice still low but sincere. “That’s… really mature of you.”

Before I could protest—or make a joke about her over using that word—she stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. For a second, I just stood there stiffly, but eventually, I relented and wrapped my arms around her.

“Thanks, Em,” she murmured.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled through the tightness in my chest. It did feel good to have this understanding between us. “Don’t get used to it, Lena.”

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Chapter Text

Eight

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The next day, I was sprawled on the couch in my coziest pajamas and fuzziest blankets, living my best life. My laptop perched precariously on my knees, defying gravity, while I munched on a bowl of popcorn that had already lost half its contents to the couch cushions. My favorite historical architecture newsletter filled the screen, and I was happily nerding out over an article on Gothic cathedral restoration when Jenna rounded the corner.

“Not going to the game?” she asked, her tone hovering somewhere between surprise and the kind of mild disappointment usually reserved for when you find out your first and second favorite ice cream flavors are out of stock.

I didn’t bother looking up. “I only ever went because of Matt and Elena. Now that Elena isn’t cheerleading, one reason isn’t enough to justify watching guys body-slam each other for two hours.” I snorted, popping another kernel in my mouth. “It’s basically unpaid gladiators—except there’s practically no life-or-death stakes, and a severe lack of dramatic, bloodthirsty commentary.”

Jenna huffed a laugh, but then stopped short. “Wait. Elena quit cheerleading? Since when?”

“Technically, this morning,” I answered, scrolling absently, trying to look like I wasn’t completely tuned in to her reaction. But my focus drifted anyway, yanked back to earlier.

While waiting for the shower to heat up, I’d spotted Elena staring at her cheer uniform through the crack of the bathroom door. She’d given it this long, tortured look—like it had personally insulted her—before shoving it into the depths of her closet with the kind of finality usually reserved for ex-boyfriend hoodies.

By the time I’d stepped out of the shower, she’d told me she wasn’t cheering tonight. Or ever again.

Not exactly a plot twist. I’d figured she’d quit eventually, but the way she looked at that uniform… something had pushed her over the edge.

“Why?” Jenna pressed, drawing my attention back.

I shrugged, ignoring the weird little twist in my stomach. “Dunno. She didn’t say. Not my business, really.”

Jenna helped herself to my popcorn like a true menace, popping a piece into her mouth without even a courtesy glance. “She already left for the game?”

“Yeah, with Bonnie,” I muttered.

Elena had invited me too, mentioning something about tailgating, but I had zero desire to stand around awkwardly, pretending to enjoy teenage talk while people got way too emotionally invested in high school football. That had never been my scene. I always felt like an NPC watching everyone else play the game. It wasn’t so bad when Mom and Dad were around to keep me company, but… yeah. That wasn’t an option anymore.

Jenna turned The Look on me—the one all Sommer women seemed to be born knowing, like a cursed family inheritance. Somewhere, there had to be a Jedi Master of guilt-tripping who trained them personally.

“So now that she isn’t cheerleading, she’s just going to sit on the bleachers. Alone. For the whole game. By herself.”

Her words hit as intended. Just like I was…

Ugh. Damn it.

I glanced around at my cozy little sanctuary—blankets, pajamas, snacks, and an article about 13th-century flying buttresses waiting for me. It was perfect. Peaceful. But now, thanks to Jenna’s stupidly effective Jedi mind tricks, all I could see was Elena, sitting alone on those uncomfortable bleachers like the world’s saddest sports movie protagonist.

Stupid Sommer guilt trips. Well, I had to have gotten my talent somewhere…

I groaned, louder than necessary, shutting my laptop and rolled off the couch like a martyr. The popcorn bowl wobbled dangerously as I bumped the table, but I managed to save it at the last second—no thanks to Jenna’s unmoving form as she snorted at me.

“Okay, I got it. Message received,” I grumbled, dragging my feet toward the stairs to change.

Jenna, already smugly taking over my spot, tossed another piece of popcorn into her mouth after draping a blanket over her lap. “Don’t forget to wear school colors!” she called after me.

I shot her a flat look over my shoulder. “I hope you’re happy.”

She beamed. “Immensely.”

Of course she was. She now had full custody of the couch, my blankets, and, most importantly, my popcorn.

Truly, a villainous mastermind.

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“Grr!”

Elena practically jumped out of her skin with a startled yelp as I clamped my hands down on her shoulders. She spun, wide-eyed, and smacked my arm in the most unimpressive display of sibling violence I’d ever seen.

“Emery!” she huffed, teetering between irritation and relief.

I laughed. Mission accomplished.

It hadn’t taken long to find her—she was one of the few people standing in their own little bubble, hovering at the edge of the bonfire crowd like she wasn’t quite part of the scene. And despite my initial reluctance to come, I was glad Jenna had worked her mind tricks on me. As obnoxious as it was, at least I knew Elena wasn’t spending the whole night alone.

“Gotcha.” I grinned, flipping the Timberwolves cap backward on my head to fully reveal my face. It wasn’t mine, obviously—I’d stolen it from Matt last year under the noble cause of getting free candy for participating in school spirit day. Finders, keepers.

“Don’t do that!” Elena snapped, but the way her lips twitched completely undercut her outrage.

I glanced around at the crowd, taking in the bonfire’s impressive height as it morbidly torched the other schools mascot. The students were buzzing with excitement around it, a few parents pretending not to be mortified by the teenage chaos. Coach Tanner’s voice boomed from the speakers, rambling about teamwork and school pride in that deeply Coach Tanner way—loud, long-winded, and impossible to ignore. It was like something straight out of a cheesy teen drama, except way louder, and unfortunately, I couldn’t mute it.

“What can I say?” I winked. “I live to keep you on your toes.”

Elena rolled her eyes in that older-sister-but-barely kinda way, brushing it off as she turned back toward the stage. “I thought you weren’t coming,” she said, sneaking a glance at me.

I shrugged, playing it cool. “Figured it’d make me a bad friend not to support Matt,” I lied, pretending the words didn’t taste suspiciously true. “And I wanted to see Stefan get knocked around. You know, for fun.”

Elena shot me a sharp look. “I thought you were going to be nicer to him, Em.”

“I am being nicer,” I said, widening my eyes in mock innocence. “I didn’t even say it to his face.”

Her groan said everything. She turned her attention back to Tanner’s dumb speech, while I let my gaze wander around the crowd, resisting the urge to yawn.

“We’ve got some great new talent tonight starting on the offensive line!” Tanner bellowed, gesturing like he was auditioning for a used car commercial. “And I’m gonna tell you right now, it has been a long time since I have seen a kid like this, with hands like these!”

Then, in the grand tradition of making everything so much worse, he dramatically jabbed a finger at Stefan like he was some prize-winning show pony instead of an actual human person.

Oh, the jokes I could make about that. And now I never can…

Stefan stood off to the side with the other players, radiating the deeply uncomfortable energy of a guy who wished he were anywhere but here. And yet, even under the spotlight of Tanner’s overenthusiastic, secondhand embarrassment-inducing praise, he somehow managed to hold that whole polite, stand-up guy act together.

Elena, of course, beamed at him, clapping enthusiastically. I, on the other hand, barely glanced in his direction when he looked toward us, choosing instead to wave dramatically at Matt until he noticed me.

And when he did, he broke into one of those bright, boy-next-door, trademark Matt grins—genuine, easy, no pretense.

And just like that, guilt sucker-punched me in the gut.

Because, yeah. Maybe I should’ve come for him in the first place. I was officially the worst friend…

But my self-recrimination didn’t have long to settle before my mood soured another way. Because right next to Matt, leaning in and whispering something in his ear, was Tyler.

Even from a distance, I could tell Tyler’s whole posture screamed irritation, and just the sight of him made my blood pressure spike. I hadn’t spoken to him since the comet, and frankly, I wasn’t in any hurry to break that streak. I was still pissed about the shit he’d said about Jeremy, and lately, his temper had been like a fuse soaked in gasoline.

Which sucked, honestly. Because Tyler and I had once been close—second only to Matt. But now? Now he was hooking up with Vicki, dragging her (and, by extension, my brother) into his dumpster fire of bad decisions.

Matt wasn’t thrilled about it either. He hadn’t said much, but I knew that look—the one that meant he was biting his tongue so hard it was in danger of falling off. Me, though? I was done playing nice.

After the game, I’d track Tyler down and make it crystal clear I wasn’t about to be his fake date for the Founder’s Party. He’d probably try to guilt-trip me into it, but it wasn’t worth the backlash. Especially now that he and Vicki were publicly a thing.

Tyler’s mess was his own, and I wasn’t about to let him drag me down with him. Not if this was how he was going to handle it.

When Tanner finally wrapped up his speech (seriously, I’d heard wedding toasts shorter than that), Elena and I drifted away from the crowd, seeking some much-needed space. Off to the side, the bonfire cast flickering shadows as students migrated toward it, the buzz of chatter and laughter growing in volume.

Just as I opened my mouth to share a snide comment about Tanner to Elena, the sharp rise of shouting cut through the easy atmosphere like a record scratch in a horror movie.

The shift in energy was instant.

“Tyler, stop!”

Vicki’s voice.

Every muscle in me went taut. My head snapped toward the disturbance, and I immediately spotted the source: Tyler, slamming his fists into someone already pinned to the ground.

No—not just anyone.

Jeremy.

“Shit,” I hissed, my stomach lurching as I shoved forward, pushing through the wall of gawking bystanders.

“Em, where are you—” Elena’s worried voice trailed behind me, but I didn’t stop to answer.

“TYLER!” I bellowed, breaking through the last of the crowd. “Get your hands off him!”

No reaction. He was too far gone, lost in whatever blinding rage had taken over, his fists hammering down like Jeremy was some goddamn punching bag.

Fury ignited inside me.

So, naturally, I launched myself at him.

Now, did I think about this? No. Did I regret it? Also no. Was it smart? …We’ll workshop that later.

I hit him hard, putting my whole damn soul into it—but Tyler was built like a brick wall with anger issues, so all I really accomplished was making him falter for half a second.

And it was just enough to piss him off further.

His elbow shot back without warning, striking my left cheek before I could react. My head snapped sideways, white-hot pain bursting like a firework behind my eyes.

My vision swam as I stumbled. Distantly, I heard Elena scream my name, but it sounded like I was underwater, everything muffled and distant.

Then—strong hands grabbed me, yanking me backward.

“Tyler!” Stefan’s yell rang out, furious and commanding. Through the haze, I barely registered him stepping in, intercepting Tyler’s next punch like it was nothing.

Behind me, Elena’s panicked words broke through the fog.

“Jeremy, no!”

Oh, hell.

I sank into the grass with all the grace of a tranquilized deer. My cheek was on fire, and tears blurred my vision so aggressively I squeezed my eyes shut.

Somewhere in the chaos, a voice cut through, firm but steady.

“Hey, hey. Emery.”

It took me a second to recognize the voice as Stefan’s, his calm but firm voice an anchor against the overwhelming noise. “It’s over. Come on. Open your eyes.”

Ugh. Fine.

I forced my lids open, blinking until his face solidified in front of me. He was crouched down, brows furrowed and forest-green eyes filled with concern.

“You okay?” he asked.

I shook my head—or at least, I tried to. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it was a shake or a nod, because the motion made my skull feel like a goddamn snow globe mid-shake.

“Sure,” I muttered as my face screamed otherwise.

Instinctively, I reached up to brush at the moisture clinging to my lashes, only to immediately regret it as my fingers skimmed over my cheek. Holy mother of bruises.

Stefan sighed, clearly unimpressed with my expert display of pretending I wasn’t dying. He extended a hand. After a half-second of internal resistance (and realizing standing up solo was not happening), I caved and took it.

“Easy there,” he murmured as I swayed like a poorly built Jenga tower.

The world tilted, my skull still throbbing in protest, but Stefan kept me upright. I blinked a few more times, scanning the crowd—or what was left of it. The fight was over, and the audience had already moved on, their murmurs fading as they drifted toward the bleachers.

I searched the retreating figures for Jeremy, but he was nowhere to be seen. He must’ve taken off. That had to mean he was okay—or at least better off than I was right now. I clung to that little shred of relief because, let’s be real, I was in zero shape to go after him right now.

Movement caught my eye—blond hair, a familiar build. Matt. He was steering Tyler toward the locker rooms, a firm hand on his shoulder like he was wrangling an unruly toddler.

And just like that, whatever dam had been holding back my anger—gone.

I saw red.

“Fuck you, Lockwood!” I shouted furiously. “If you still think I’m gonna be your arm trophy to please Mommy and Daddy after this shit, you’ve got another thing coming, asshole!”

A few heads turned. Let them stare. I was beyond caring.

Stefan’s grip tightened on my arm as I swayed again, my cheek pulsing with every furious heartbeat. Okay, maybe screaming like a banshee right after taking an elbow to the face wasn’t my brightest idea, but I was operating on pure, unfiltered rage here. Logic had left the building.

Tyler didn’t even flinch. Not a glance back, not an ounce of guilt. Just kept walking, his shoulders squared like he was the victim here, while Matt played human leash.

Coward.

My nostrils flared. My fists clenched. The storm in my chest raged louder, hot and suffocating. I squeezed my eyes shut and sucked in a shaky breath, trying desperately to shove it down before I did something stupid.

Get it together, Emery.

“Emery?”

Stefan reeled me back in, and I was abruptly reminded that I was still leaning on him like some damsel in distress. Ugh. I opened my eyes to find him watching me, his face lined with concern. And sympathy. God, I hated that look. It made me want to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“Are you good to walk?” Stefan asked. “We need to find some ice for your cheek. It’s already swelling.” His hand lifted toward my face, probably to poke at my bruised dignity.

But before I could dodge, Elena bulldozed in.

“Oh my God, your hand, Stefan!”

She latched onto his wrist like he was about to keel over and die. Her face was full of frantic panic, eyes darting over his completely uninjured palm.

I blinked.

Seriously?

My cheek—my very real, very painful cheek—was currently throbbing like a bad drum solo, and she was worried about him? The guy who looked like he’d just walked off a magazine cover, unscathed?

“I’m okay,” Stefan assured her, gently untangling himself from her death grip. “It’s nothing. But Emery—”

“I said I’m okay!”

The words came out harsh and the second they left my mouth, regret pooled in my stomach, especially when I realized I hadn’t actually said that at all. It wasn’t his fault I was in a mood, but instead of apologizing, I pushed the feeling aside.

Stefan didn’t even flinch. If anything, his concern just deepened, which—somehow—made me feel worse.

He hesitated, glancing toward the field, where the hum of the crowd was ramping back up. “It’s almost kickoff time,” he said after a pause. “You should help Emery get some ice. I’ll, uh… I’ll see you after the game.”

And just like that, he was gone, slipping away like some brooding knight retreating into the shadows.

Elena wasted no time turning on me the second he was out of earshot.

“What were you thinking?”

Her words hit like a slap—which seemed a little unfair, considering I’d already taken one hit to the face tonight. I leaned back instinctively, my eyes going wide.

“What do you think I was thinking?” I retorted, quickly growing frustrated. “Jeremy was getting pummeled! I wasn’t just going to stand there and watch!”

“And what a help you were!” she chided, throwing her hands up like I was some clueless child. “You got yourself hurt, too, and now I have no idea where Jeremy even went!”

Her voice cracked at his name, and suddenly, her anger made sense. She wasn’t furious—she was scared. I could see it in the way her shoulders locked up, her eyes darting around, scanning the crowd as if Jeremy might magically appear if she looked hard enough.

I bit back the retort forming on my tongue and let out a sigh. “Okay, okay,” I muttered, holding up my hands in surrender. “I get it. Let’s just… drop it, alright? We can call Jeremy in a bit, just give him time to cool down first. The game’s going to start soon, and I should probably deal with this.” I turned my head and gestured vaguely to the side of my face, wincing when the movement caused a jolt of pain.

Elena sighed too, her shoulders slumping as the fight drained out of her. Her gaze softened as she took in my sorry state.

“Come on,” she said, quieter now. “We’ll grab some ice from the cheerleaders’ cooler.”

She looped her arm through mine, steering me toward the bleachers. I let her, too tired to protest.

When we reached the cheerleaders, Elena snagged a clean towel from one of the benches, filling it with ice from the cooler. Handing it to me, she said firmly, “Hold this to your cheek.”

I pressed the makeshift ice pack to my face, flinching at the biting cold, but it was worth it for the relief it brought to the swelling.

“I’m going to talk to Bonnie before the game begins,” Elena said after a beat. Then, as if remembering something, she paused and turned back to me. “Do you have the keys to the car? I don’t want to lug my purse around anymore.”

I fished the keys out of my pocket and tossed them to her. “It’s in the student lot, near the back,” I muttered, giving her a vague description of where I parked before sinking down onto the grass a bit away from the cheerleader benches.

She nodded, already turning to leave. “I’ll be back in a bit,” she said over her shoulder.

I let my head tip back against the cement wall of the bleachers, closing my eyes as the ice-packed towel rested against my cheek. The roar of the crowd behind me was distant, drowned beneath the steady pound, pound, pound of my skull threatening to implode.

God, this night couldn’t end fast enough.

So much for being moral support…

It didn’t take long before the cheerleaders made their way over, their high-pitched chatter like chirping birds at the crack of dawn. Relentless, grating, impossible to ignore—like an alarm clock when all you wanted was five more minutes of peace.

I cracked my eyes open just enough to see them a few feet away—a trio huddled together in uniform, looking like a flock of male cardinals,bright and attention-grabbing, their glittery pom-poms discarded in a pile on the grass.

“That was insane,” Tiki’s unmistakable voice rang out, exaggerated and gleeful—in the kind of way that meant gossip was about to fly. “I mean, seriously, Tyler, chill. We get it—you’re a hotshot. You don’t have to prove it by beating up stoner kids.”

“Right?” another cheerleader commented, her voice just generically peppy enough that I couldn’t place her. “I don’t know what was worse—Jeremy grabbing that bottle or Emery throwing herself into the middle of it? What even was that?”

Bottle? My brow furrowed slightly. I tucked that detail away for later, filing it under things to grill Elena about when my skull wasn’t actively berating my actions.

I let my eyes drift shut again, pretending they didn’t exist. Unfortunately, their voices were like mosquitoes—high-pitched, persistent, and somehow even more annoying when ignored.

Idiots. It wasn’t like I was hiding or anything—I was literally right there. It wouldn’t have taken more than half a functioning brain cell to notice me.

“At least Jeremy fought back,” another girl—Michaela, I think?—added, using that special brand of bitchy condescension. “Emery just looked ridiculous, flailing around like that. It was so cringe. Like, what was she even trying to do? Play bodyguard?”

Yup. Definitely Michaela. Always happy to make people feel like they’re worth less than her overpriced lip gloss.

Laughter rippled through the group, light and airy, like they weren’t actively trashing someone.

“Stefan is such a sweetheart for stepping in to save her,” the mystery girl sighed. “Emery didn’t help at all. If anything, she made it worse. Now people are going to act like Tyler’s the bad guy just because she got in the way.”

Oh please. As if Tyler wasn’t already in the running for biggest douchebag of the year for trying to crush my brother’s skull. But sure, let’s shift the blame.

I gritted my teeth, the ice pack now feeling like it was burning through my cheek.

“But are we really surprised? What else can you expect from a weirdo who used to talk to herself all the time?” Michaela snickered, voice lowering into a stage whisper that carried just enough.

I frowned before I could stop myself.

“Total disaster,” she continued, oozing smug delight. “Like, remember in eighth grade when she dumped an entire plate of cafeteria spaghetti down Kameron’s back?”

“Oh my God, yes,” Tiki gasped with overdone sympathy. “My poor Kam still hates her for that. It was his favorite jersey.”

A slow smirk replaced my frown. Good. If I had known that, I would’ve done it to the front too. Kameron deserved worse for slapping Elena’s butt. Twice.

“Yeah, but that still wasn’t as bad as the time she drew that crude picture of Mrs. Carmichael on her whiteboard. In Sharpie—she didn’t even look guilty for making the poor old woman cry! And the whole class got punished with extra essays before they figured out Emery did it.” Wow, mystery girl sounded personally wounded by that. “She retired that summer because of it, you know.”

Okay, hold on. That was not on me. She was already planning to retire. Clearly they already forgot that she was a full-blown tyrant with a personal vendetta against Matt—who, by the way, only passed her class because of that essay, so really, I did a public service. My caricature was a harmless act of civil disobedience, not a war crime.

Unfortunately, my dad sure as hell hadn’t seen it that way. I shoved the memory down before it could fully surface, locking it up tight where it belonged.

“She’s still acts that way,” Michaela scoffed. “Like she’s too cool to care about anything. But then she throws herself into a fight? Make it make sense.”

“It’s the dramatics for me,” Tiki hummed. “You just know she’s gonna milk that bruise for attention all week. No doubt jealous of her own sister’s popularity.”

Because that was totally my endgame here—get punched in the face for a pity party. Did they completely forget about the part where Jeremy was getting pulverized and nobody else did anything?

Michaela huffed a laugh. “She’s such an embarrassment to Elena. I feel bad for her—having such a weirdo as a her twin sister. It’s kind of sad.”

“It’s a good thing she quite cheerleading before high school,” Tiki agreed. “It would’ve sucked if she made the team. I bet she’s the reason Elena quit too.”

Their giggles swelled, blending into the hum of the crowd as my pulse gradually quickened against my will, heat crawling up my neck despite the ice pressed to my face.

Typical mean girls, talking about me like they had any clue why I did the things I did.

I kept my eyes shut, forcing myself to stay still, to not look their way. Because if I did, I’d either say something completely unhinged or, better yet, chuck my ice pack straight at their heads—and I wasn’t sure which one would be worse.

Not that it mattered. Anything I said or did would just hand them more ammunition.

Besides, they weren’t saying anything I hadn’t already heard before.

Sad. Embarrassing. A weirdo.

Right.

I shifted slightly, leaning the side of my head against the cement wall so the ice stayed in place. The night air filled my lungs—cool, grounding. I focused on that, on the rhythmic in-and-out of my breathing, until their voices faded into background noise.

To think, last year’s me would’ve retaliated without hesitation.

Focus on what matters, I told myself instead. Jeremy’s okay—probably. Elena’s not entirely furious.

And me? Well, I’d deal with my own mess later.

Nothing a little ibuprofen and some concealer couldn’t fix.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew, Elena was shaking me awake.

Her frantic face hovered inches from mine, her voice wavering.

“Tanner’s dead,” she whispered, like she could barely force the words out.

I stared at her, my brain struggling to process.

“The police are saying… it was a wild animal attack.”

A wild animal attack.

Just like the other “wild animal attacks” I’d been seeing on the news since the first day of school—the ones that left bodies ripped apart, that nearly killed Vicki, that made me triple-check every lock at night. Even Sonia had made a point to warn me not to be out alone at late hours.

I blinked at her, my brain grasping at the words but they refused to land.

Dead? Tanner?

The same Tanner who’d been loudly proclaiming his superiority on the field just a bit ago? The one with that stupid smug look permanently etched on his face?

Elena’s was trying to hold it together, but I could see the panic in her eyes as they darted nervously toward the flashing police lights in the distance. Her lips pressed thin, her hands wringing together like she could physically keep herself from unraveling.

That alone was enough to snap me out of my haze.

I pulled her into a hug, my arms tight around her, as if I could somehow shield her from all of this.

But me? I felt… nothing.

No shock, no sadness, no horror. Just numb.

Either I’d officially crossed into heartless monster territory, or my brain had just decided now was the perfect time to go on strike.

Yeah, let’s chalk it up to being a concussion. Way better than admitting I might just be broken.

When we pulled apart, Elena said quietly, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

My mouth was dry as I forced out. “Jeremy?”

She sighed. “He finally texted me. After my worried call over the animal attack. Just a simple “I’m fine.”” She shook her head. “But he won’t ride home with us.”

I nodded sluggishly, somehow feeling both relieved and disappointed at the same time. “Just… let me check on Matt first.” I worried about how he was taking this. Tanner had been his coach for the last two years after all—terrible teacher or not.

Elena hesitated for the briefest of moments, her eyes searching mine like she wasn’t sure she wanted to let me out of her sight.

“Don’t worry. The police are still around and I have my phone on me,” I assured her.

She sighed but relented. “Okay. I’ll meet you at the car.”

She turned away, and that’s when I noticed Stefan lurking just behind her. Of course, he was already stepping in to catch her in a steadying embrace, his face set in that classic I alone bear the weight of the world’s suffering expression.

Honestly, Stefan looked like he might single-handedly take responsibility for every bad thing that had ever happened in this town. I didn’t know whether to feel bad for him or roll my eyes. Maybe both.

Shaking my head, I pulled out my phone and dialed Matt’s number. Straight to voicemail.

With a sigh, I made my way toward the parking lot. If Matt was still here, his truck was the most logical place to check first. I’d seen where he parked when I arrived, and if it was still there, at least I’d know he hadn’t left.

The field and lot were emptying fast. Red and blue police lights flickered like chaotic strobes across the scene, painting pale, nervous faces in harsh flashes. Students and parents hurried to their cars—no one wanted to hang around after hearing about Tanner’s death. Especially not when the cops were blaming yet another fatality on Mystic Falls’ Most Elusive Murder Beast™.

A wild animal. Sure. Totally believable. Because wild animals love to pop out of nowhere, attack humans near a crowded area, and then disappear into the ether before a single person manages to spot them.

Even before tonight, no one had actually seen this supposed killer creature, and anyone who might’ve … well, they weren’t exactly around to give a statement, were they?

Not even Vicki could remember what happened to her. She only knew something had attacked her. And honestly? That whole situation was weird too. Because I’d seen the wound on her neck that day, and it sure as hell didn’t look like a bear or mountain lion or whatever nonsense the town’s official denial committee was rolling with.

I shook off the creeping unease at the thought.

Focus, Emery.

Matt first. True crime conspiracy theories later.

“Boo.”

The whispered word tickled my ear, warm breath ghosting across my skin. I sighed loudly, not even bothering to mask my irritation. But the faintest tug of amusement pulled at the corner of my lips anyway. I already knew exactly who it was.

“Is that how you always greet people?” I asked, tilting my head toward the new presence. “Appearing out of thin air and breathing down their necks?”

Damon strolled into view, frowning at me. “Disappointing,” he drawled, ignoring my question entirely. “You’re supposed to be frightened.”

I rolled my eyes, resisting the grin that was already threatening to betray me. “I told you, I don’t scare easily. Last time was a fluke.”

His eyes narrowed, that usual glint of mischief flickering into something darker. Then his signature smirk appeared, his voice dropping into a smooth, calculated purr. “We’ll see.”

A chill ran down my spine, goosebumps prickling my arms like some kind of traitorous reflex. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of visibly reacting. Damon didn’t need any encouragement—he fed off reactions the way a cat tormented a mouse.

I forced an unimpressed sigh. “Keep trying, Damon,” I said lightly, brushing past him and continuing toward Matt’s truck. “Maybe one day, you’ll actually manage to startle me again.”

I didn’t need to turn around to know he was watching me walk away, his smirk probably widening at the challenge. Then came the sound of his footsteps falling into place behind me.

Of course. This was just another round, not some casual, coincidental meeting—it never was with him it. Damon Salvatore didn’t do coincidences. He was more like Stefan than he’d probably ever want to admit.

Because that’s what this was, wasn’t it? Some game he wanted to play. And if Damon Salvatore wanted a game, he’d find out soon enough that I wasn’t one to fold.

I stopped abruptly and spun to face him, cutting through whatever mystery he was trying to cultivate. “So,” I began, as nonchalant as possible, “what are you even doing here?”

Without missing a beat, Damon reached out and plucked the hat off my head—my hat (Matt’s hat)—spinning it lazily between his fingers. I clenched my jaw, resisting the urge to immediately snatch it back. Remember, Emery, he thrives on reactions.

“Oh, older brother duties,” he replied, feigning sincerity so poorly that even he looked bored with himself. “Thought I’d cheer Stefan on for his first game.”

I arched a skeptical brow, crossing my arms. “Uh-huh. Sure. And I’m the Queen of England.”

Damon scoffed a laugh. “Tsk, tsk, Emery,” he said disapprovingly. “Accusing me of lying? I’m just here to show my support.” He paused, tapping a finger against his chin in contemplation. “And maybe to add a little excitement. Stefan’s life gets so dull sometimes.”

I wagged a finger at him, the way a kindergarten teacher might scold a mischievous child. “Careful, Damon. Keep up this whole ‘popping out of nowhere’ business, and I might have to diagnose you with a serious case of Stefan Stalking Syndrome.”

He pressed the hat to his chest with a flourish, as if I’d just accused him of high treason. “Let me live in denial but a little longer,” he said, sighing theatrically, every word soaked in exaggerated woe.

“Denial’s a dangerous drug, Damon,” I sing-songed, my unintentional alliteration making me break into a brief grin that was easily encouraged by the squinting, You really had to do that? kinda glance he gave me. “You should accept it now. Seek help while you can. My office hours are three to six, if you’re interested. Very reasonable hourly rate,” I added seriously, straightening my spine like a CEO announcing the launch of a groundbreaking startup.

Damon cocked his head to the side, his smirk softening into something closer to genuine amusement. “A new business already? The last one didn’t pan out either?” he jibed, full of mock sympathy.

“Nope,” I replied, shrugging as if the answer was obvious. “I pick up a new one practically every day. Call it career variety. Keeps life interesting.”

“Ah, a true Renaissance woman,” he mused, his gaze gliding over me with exaggerated admiration, like he was assessing the scope of my so-called empire. I rolled my eyes, biting back a sarcastic retort—not because I couldn’t think of one, but because I knew he’d just twist it around on me.

His chuckle was light, clearly enjoying himself, but then—just like that—the amusement dimmed. It was subtle but unmistakable. His eyes swept over the darkened parking lot, the playful banter dissipating like mist.

“Shouldn’t you be getting out of here?” he drawled, slower this time. “There was a deadly animal attack not too long ago.”

“I’ve got someone to check on first,” I said, the reminder snapping my thoughts back to Matt. “And you don’t seem all that concerned yourself.”

The words had barely left my mouth when guilt started to gnaw at my chest. How had I let myself get distracted so easily? Matt could’ve been waiting for me this whole time, or—God forbid—something worse might’ve happened to him while I was busy playing verbal ping-pong with Damon.

I shook the thought off and began walking again. Maybe I did have a concussion. Was it even possible to self-diagnose one, or would the concussion itself make you too scatterbrained to notice? Great. Now I’m spiraling.

“Oh, I’m shaking in my boots,” Damon replied dryly, immediately falling into step beside me. Hands in his pockets, he strolled ahead just a little—like he was leading me somewhere instead of just tagging along. His usual swagger felt completely out of place in the eerie, deserted parking lot.

“Who’s so important that you’re worried? Your sister?” His tone was full of false innocence, and I barely resisted the urge to groan out loud. “I’m sure Stefan has a close eye on little Elena.”

Something about the way he said that rubbed me the wrong way. It wasn’t the words themselves, but the subtle twist to his voice, like the thought amused him in a way it really shouldn’t. I frowned before I could stop myself.

Why did that bother me? Normally, I’d be first in line to make fun of Stefan. His whole brooding, tortured, stalkerish routine practically begged for it. But right now…

Damon stopped abruptly. My train of thought derailed, and I nearly walked straight into him.

That’s when I became hyper-aware of just how empty the parking lot was now. The glow of the flashing red-and-blue police lights barely reached us, leaving only the dim overhead lamps to cast uneven, flickering halos against the pavement. The buzzing hum of the bulbs was the only sound.

Damon stood right at the edge of the light, his figure mostly a silhouette—except for his eyes. That pale, icy blue seemed to gleam in the dark.

That was it. That was why I felt off.

Damon wasn’t just the charming, yet flippant and irreverent walking headache I’d pegged him as. Right now, there was something deliberate in his stance, something calculated in the way he moved.

It wasn’t the kind of danger that announced itself. It was the kind that watched and waited. The kind that slithered just beneath the surface.

Damon didn’t just lurk in the shadows. He belonged to them.

And suddenly, I realized that for all my jokes about Stefan being a creepy, broody stalker… I’d never actually felt uneasy around him. It was just a bit. A running joke.

But Damon? Right now?

This wasn’t funny. This was unsettling. And I hated admitting that—especially since I usually found him more entertaining than unnerving.

Man. What a downer.

“Don’t tell me you’re starting to feel sympathy for my brother,” Damon said suddenly, voice lined with scrutiny, like my silence had given me away.

I didn’t respond right away, thrown off by yet another shift in his demeanor. He tilted his head slightly, studying me—eyes narrowing on the side of my face, like he was noticing me for the first time.

“What happened to you?”

I blinked, confused, until I realized my hand had instinctively risen to my cheek. My fingers brushed the swollen bruise there, and I winced.

Damn it.

“A fight,” I muttered grudgingly, yanking my hand down like I hadn’t just drawn attention to it. “One in which your brother saved me from getting my ass kicked.”

Damon’s smirk didn’t waver, but there was something else behind it now. It was impossible to pin down though, not with him using that facial expression for just about every emotion and reaction.

“By one of my friends, no less,” I added bitterly, the words slipping out before I could stop them. “So excuse me if my sympathy’s showing. It’s not exactly intentional.”

I shook my head, trying to dispel the wave of frustration building inside me. But the thought of silence between us—especially in this setting—was suffocating, and I couldn’t stop myself from quickly filling it.

“Honestly, though,” I started, sharper than intended, “I don’t understand your relationship with your brother. Elena might get on my nerves sometimes, but I’d never treat her the way you treat Stefan.”

Damon didn’t even hesitate. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he replied, airily, almost dismissive. “Besides, it’s between me and Stefan. Don’t worry your pretty little head over it. Just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

I frowned as he waved my hat in front of my face again. With a quick motion, I snatched it back—though we both knew he’d let me. The bastard.

I stuck my tongue out at him as I brushed past. “Not little,” I muttered, picking up my pace when I realized I was getting closer to Matt’s truck. “And I don’t care what’s going on between you and Stefan,” I added, trying to sound firm, “as long as you keep—”

“Elena out of it,” he interrupted smoothly, cutting me off with a lazy wave of his hand. “I heard you the first time. And, as I said before, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

And yet, his words didn’t reassure me any more than they had the first time. I didn’t believe him. Not even for a second.

Then, he was suddenly too close—close enough that I had to stop short before walking straight into him

I stiffened.

His look was infuriatingly, like he was savoring some private joke at my expense.

Ugh. At this rate, Matt might’ve already left.

“You know,” Damon drawled, his voice dipping into something smoother, silkier, “my offer from last night still stands. Let’s get out of here.” He leaned in slightly, his piercing gaze locking onto mine. His pupils seemed to widen, swallowing the light blue around them. “Come with me.”

Unease prickled down my spine, and I instinctively took a step back, twisting the ring on my finger—a grounding motion, something familiar to focus on. “You know, Damon,” I began, keeping my tone slow and deliberate, “I don’t get annoyed easily, and I’ll admit—you’re kind of fun. Sometimes.”

I paused, giving him a pointed look, lowering my hand from the ring as I stood my ground. “But since you clearly didn’t get the hint last time, let me spell it out for you: I’m not interested in playing your little game.”

Damon’s eyes flicked down to my hand, brows furrowing just for a fraction of a second before smoothing out again. He said nothing for a moment, just studied me like I was a puzzle he was piecing together. Then, after a beat of silence, he stepped back with his hands raised in surrender.

“Alright, I hear you.” His smirk returned, playful as ever. “But don’t think you’ll be able to resist my devilishly handsome charm for long.” He waggled his brows in that ridiculous way that somehow made him even more insufferable.

I rolled my eyes but let out a small, exasperated laugh. At least he was backing off. I’d hate for a potential friendship—if you could even call it that—to be ruined this early because he couldn’t rein in his ego. There was no way he was actually interested in me. This was probably just another ploy to mess with Stefan.

“Okay, Damon. Fun’s over. I’ve wasted enough time, and if I don’t get a move on, Elena’s going to freak out. I’ll catch you later.” My tone made it clear that I wasn’t asking for his company.

Damon sighed dramatically. “Fine, go on. I’ll just go back to lurking in the darkness, all by my lonesome…”

“You do that,” I replied distractedly, my focus already zeroing in on Matt’s truck just a few spaces ahead. I spotted his familiar silhouette slouched forward in the bed of the truck, and relief washed over me—only to be immediately replaced by a pang at the sight of his clearly dejected form.

“You wound me, Emery,” Damon called after me, his voice carrying a faux heartbreak that made me glance back despite myself. He smirked, holding a hand to his heart as he took a few steps backward into the shadows. “Later.”

Before I could respond, he winked and disappeared into the night, leaving me in the eerie quiet of the parking lot.

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I climbed into the bed of the truck beside Matt, the tailgate creaking beneath me as I settled down. For a second, I wasn’t sure what to say. I turned to him, opened my mouth—then promptly realized that nothing profound or remotely helpful was going to come out.

So, instead, I went with the absolute pinnacle of emotional intelligence:

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Matt returned, just as quiet, staring ahead at nothing.

Silence fell between us. I took in in his hunched shoulders, blank face but eyes misty, and waited. I knew better than to push when Matt was quiet like this. There was no need to. It was one of the reasons I liked him, that I didn’t need to drain myself trying to get him to open up. He’d get there on his own. Eventually.

And then, finally—

“I… found Tanner’s body.”

My stomach dropped.

I swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in my throat. Fuck. Why did it have to be Matt? I’d already known the news of Tanner’s death would be hard for him, but now? Now, I was really glad I’d come looking for him.

Tanner had been an asshole—an arrogant, power-tripping jerk who thrived on making teenagers miserable for sport—but this was… different. Tanner had been Matt’s coach for years. And while I couldn’t stand the guy, I couldn’t ignore the fact that Matt had probably seen a version of him I never had. And now that version—that person—was gone.

“Shit, Matt,” I whispered, my hand reaching out to rest on his arm. I wasn’t sure what else to say, afraid of sounding insensitive. Sad. Embarrassing. Weird. So I defaulted to the classic, useless, “I’m so sorry.”

Matt let out a heavy breath. “I just… keep seeing it. The way he looked,” he admitted, his voice cracking just a little.

What the hell do you say to something like that?

I hated seeing Matt like this—so broken and unsure, like he’d been after Vicki’s attack. They weren’t anything like family, but Tanner had been a constant in Matt’s high school years. Someone who showed up, even if it was just to blow a whistle, bark orders, and ensure his grades were just good enough to keep him on the team. And honestly? That was more than you could say for Matt’s actual parents.

He was quiet for a long moment, his head bowed, and when he finally spoke again, his words came out in a jagged rush, like he was spitting out broken glass. “I know he could be a huge dick to people—hell, even to me sometimes—but he didn’t deserve this.”

“No, he didn’t,” I agreed, looking down as my feet swung idly off the edge of the tailgate. “I mean, I’m not gonna pretend I liked him. Fuck, honestly, I used to daydream in class about stabbing him with my pencil more times than I should probably admit.”

The words were out before I could stop them. Wow, Emery. Great job. Truly a masterclass in sensitivity. Now isn’t the time to be weird.

I cringed internally, already gearing up to mentally beat myself for being the worst—

Matt snorted.

I blinked at him, caught off guard. The corner of his mouth twitched into the tiniest ghost of a smirk, and just like that, I unclenched the mental fist I’d been using to pummel myself.

“But,” I added softly, “it’s okay if you did, Matt. If you liked him, I mean. I get it. He was… there.”

Matt let out a frustrated sigh and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I wasn’t even close to him,” he practically cried out, only to immediately deflate. “But yeah… he was always there, you know? And now…” He faltered, staring at his hands. “Now he’s just gone.”

I watched him, feeling the ache in his voice seep into my chest. I didn’t have any comforting platitudes to offer—none of that “time heals all wounds” or “he’s in a better place” nonsense. I hated when people said that kind of bullshit, and I knew Matt wouldn’t want to hear it, either.

So instead, I just stayed with him, my hand still resting on his arm.

Finally, I asked, “Did you… were you okay when you found him?

His fingers flexed and curled against his knees. Then he sighed, the sound long and drawn out, like he was emptying something he’d been holding onto. “Yeah… I didn’t stick around, though,” he replied. “Ran for help as soon as I realized. But I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. You don’t ever expect to find… that.”

His hands tightened into fists as he whispered, “It looked like what happened to Vicki.”

The unspoken words hit.

What would’ve happened to her—if Jeremy hadn’t found her that night.

I squeezed his arm, remember how Vicki’s blood had seeped into the fabric of my sweater as I pressed down on her wound. The sheer panic in Matt’s voice. The helplessness in his eyes when he’d realized there was nothing he could do but watch.

He didn’t deserve this. Any of it.

“I’m glad I went looking for you,” I said, turning to face him fully. “I’m sorry if you wanted to be alone, but… I’m glad I didn’t leave without finding you first.” A pause. “Do you… do you want to me to stay the night?”

Matt glanced at me, his expression unreadable at first. Then, slowly, his shoulders dropped as some of the tension finally released.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he muttered, giving me a weak smile. “I just… I don’t know how to feel about it all yet.”

I nodded, unsure what else to say now. Same didn’t seem like enough, and yet it felt like all I had. But before I could fumble anything together, Matt frowned, his gaze squinting in on me as he leaned closer.

“Wait,” he said suddenly, more alert now. “Em, your face.”

Ah. Crap. Instinctively, my hand shot up to my cheek—immediate mistake. Previously distracted enough to push it to the back of my mind, pain now flared beneath my fingertips, a deep, pulsing throb radiating heat like my body had decided to host the bonfire right there instead. Fantastic. Maybe one day, I’d finally learn my lesson to stop poking at my own injuries like a moron.

“Oh, this?” I tried for casual, but it came out as more of a strained squeak.

“She’s going to milk that bruise for attention.”

I cleared my throat. “It’s nothing. Just a little bump.”

Matt’s expression darkened, his scowl deepening as he leaned closer, inspecting the damage. “A little bump? Emery, that looks like more than a little bump. Did Tyler do that?” His voice climbed an octave, edged with anger as he pieced it together. “I saw him push you back earlier, but I didn’t realize he hit you.”

I let out a breath, already regretting every life choice that had led to this moment. Any other time, I would’ve gladly lamented my suffering and cursed Tyler’s entire bloodline—the dick—but not now. Not after the attack. Matt was already drowning in enough emotions without me throwing gasoline on the fire.

“Meh. It’s fine, really,” I said, waving him off. “Not a big deal. Just a little bruise. Nothing to write home about.”

Matt wasn’t buying it. His jaw tightened, hands balling into fists. “I heard you yelling after him,” he remarked, voice taut. “I should’ve stayed. I wouldn’t have left if I knew—”

“Matt.” I cut him off with a forced smile, even as my cheek throbbed. “It’s fine. Nurse Elena iced me up, and I’m good as new. Or, you know, new-adjacent.”

His jaw worked as he stared at me, like he was searching for cracks in my words.

After a pause, he exhaled sharply. “I chewed Tyler out.”

Thankful he dropped the focus on my cheek, I grasped onto the new info. “Oh?”

“Called him out for being a bully,” Matt admitted, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what’s up with him lately, but he’s been—”

“More of an ass than usual?” I offered, frowning.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “That.”

For a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more. His mouth opened slightly, his brow furrowing like he was wrestling with something just out of reach. But whatever it was stayed trapped inside, and instead, the silence stretched between us again as we sat there.

I tapped my fingers against my thigh.

“This night sucks,” I blurted out, the words tumbling into a dry laugh that sounded just as forced as it felt.

Matt let out a short, humorless chuckle in response. “Agreed.”

Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see Elena’s name flash across the screen, and sighed. Right. Time to get going. I was surprised she’d even waited this long.

“Elena’s at the car waiting for me,” I said, slipping the phone back into my pocket after a quick text back.

“You should probably get going then,” he said firmly, but not unkind. “With everything going on tonight, you shouldn’t have come over here alone.”

I shot him a look, raising an eyebrow. “You’re one to talk.”

Matt chuckled softly, the sound genuine this time. “Touché.”

Some of the tension in his shoulders eased, just a little. He slid off the bed of the truck and held a hand out for me.

“Come on.” He nodded toward the passenger door. “I’ll drive you to your car.”

I hesitated, studying his face. He was clearly tired, still weighed down, but there was a quiet steadiness in his eyes now. It made me feel a little better about leaving him.

I sighed, letting a small smile tug at my lips. “Alright, alright. I guess I could use a ride. Don’t want Elena coming to find me, wondering why the hell I took so long.”

I reached out, taking his hand. With Matt’s help, I jumped down easily, giving his hand a tight squeeze before letting go.

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Chapter Text

Nine

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“Scum ball… Scum bucket…” Jenna muttered, her look of disgust and annoyance intensifying at each word as she glared at the TV.

I sat at the kitchen table, attempting to finish my math homework—attempting being the key word, since numbers and I had a long-standing feud. Scribbling what I could only pray was a remotely correct answer into one of the blanks, I commented absently, “How about the more classic variation—‘scumbag’? Rolls off the tongue better.”

“Perfect,” Jenna answered in a scarily gleeful manner.

I had no idea why she was furiously flinging insults at the TV, but honestly? Happy to assist.

“Scumbag,” she repeated in satisfied vindication.

“What are you talking about?” Elena asked as she entered the room, looking between Jenna and me like we’d both lost our minds.

“The news guy,” Jenna replied, pointing the remote at the screen like the poor man on the screen had personally wronged her. “Logan Scum Fell. Did your mom ever tell you why I left Mystic Falls?”

That caught my attention. So he had personally wronged her.

I raised a brow, leaning back in my chair. “Because of a guy? Really?” I asked, dripping disappointment. “That’s such a cliché, Jenna. Tsk, tsk. And I always thought it was scandal—treason, secret identities, a dramatic fake death at sea. But this is why you left us?” I shook my head. “Lame.” ”

Jenna shot me a glare hot enough to burn a hole through the table. “I admit it wasn’t my proudest moment. I was young, okay? You’ll make your fair share of mistakes someday too, Emery.”

Elena, now fully invested in the conversation, tilted her head as she studied the man on the screen. “Oh, no way—you and him?” she asked, a note of disbelief and intrigue creeping into her voice before a look of mild approval came over her face. “He’s cute.”

I made a gagging noise. Immediate intervention was required before this horrifying idea took root.

“He is not cute,” Jenna shot down vehemently. “There’s nothing cute about him.” She angrily grabbed the remote and turned the TV off with a vengeance, as if that alone would erase him from existence.

Before I could return to the hellscape that was my math homework, Jenna suddenly shifted gears so fast I got whiplash. “What are you doing with that?”

I glanced up, watching Elena set a box down on the table in front of her.

“I went to the safe deposit box yesterday and got it,” she explained, flipping open the lid. “Mom promised Mrs. Lockwood that she’d loan some of our family heirlooms to the Founder’s Council for their heritage display.”

At that, I decided my math homework was officially pointless. Closing the textbook with a thud, I sat on my knees to lean over and rummage through the box with them. Inside were familiar contents I’d seen years ago: old documents written in elegant script, tarnished jewelry that still held a quiet antiquated beauty, a vintage pipe and lighter, and other knickknacks from another time.

I picked up a necklace with an intricate locket, running my thumb over its surface. These items had always fascinated me—not because of their value, but because of the weight of history they carried. The last time I’d seen these pieces was on my sixteenth birthday, when Mom and Dad had unlocked the box to give me my ring.

As if reading my mind, Elena’s eyes flicked to the ring on my finger as my hand sifted through the trinkets.

“Grandma Beth’s wedding ring is on the list for the heritage display too, Em.”

Excuse me?

My hand froze mid-search, then immediately withdrew from the box. My other hand curled protectively around my ring, like some kind of Gollum response mechanism had been activated.

This wasn’t just some antique to be displayed next to dusty portraits and old-timey pistols. This was mine. A piece of Mom. A connection to Grandma Diane and Great-Grandma Beth. No way in hell did I want to hand it over to people who probably didn’t even wash their hands before handling priceless artifacts.

“I didn’t know you had Grandma Beth’s ring, Emery,” Jenna remarked, leaning in to get a closer look.

“It was a birthday present,” I replied, more defensive than I intended, but if they noticed, they didn’t show it.

Jeremy wandered into the room right then, catching the tail end of the conversation. Our eyes met for a brief moment before his gaze shifted, lingering a second too long on the side of my face.

Ah yes, the bruise. My stubborn little souvenir from that night. I had been wearing concealer since, but it still faintly peeked through despite my best efforts.

Jeremy still hadn’t talked to me about the fight, determined not to address it. I’d tried bringing it up the next day, but he practically sprinted in the opposite direction. Elena had filled in the blanks for me—right after Tyler clocked me, Jeremy had grabbed a bottle to go full bar-fight mode, but Stefan had stepped in before he could actually crack Tyler’s skull open. That, apparently, was why Elena thought Stefan injured his hand.

Which, of course, made me even more eager to talk to Jeremy about it. So naturally, he locked me out. First metaphorically. Then literally.

So I let it go. For now. No doubt he realized just how spectacularly he had fucked up with that move.

Even now, Jeremy didn’t say anything to me, but I caught a flicker of guilt in his expression before he quickly turned his attention to the box of heirlooms, masking it with curiosity.

“Originally it was Great-Great-Grandma Mary’s wedding ring,” Elena explained. “Mom believed it had been in the family even longer than that, which is why Mrs. Lockwood wanted it for the display.”

I frowned. “Not to be that guy, but does it really make sense to loan our heirlooms to a bunch of richy-rich people who just want to one-up each other in Who Has the Most Pretentious Family Legacy?”

Jenna snorted. “I actually agree with you there.”

Elena sighed, rolling her eyes as she saw through my weak attempt at distracting her. “It’s tradition, okay?”

“Uh-huh. ‘Tradition’ always seems to mean ‘let’s do something mildly questionable because old people like it,’” I mused, trying not to get upset.

Jenna glanced up from the box. “Why’d Miranda even put this in a safe deposit box instead of keeping it?”

“Huh. I don’t know, actually,” Elena admitted, though she didn’t seem remotely concerned about it.

I shrugged. “Welp. Probably nothing. Definitely not a big, looming mystery or anything.”

They both shot me unimpressed looks just as Jeremy snorted, reaching into the box and plucking out a smaller ring. He held it up to the light with exaggerated scrutiny. “How much do you think this stuff is worth? You know, like on eBay?”

I snorted in return . He was obviously joking around, but Elena, predictably, didn’t seem to get that. I never did get the chance to talk to her about the whole ‘dealer’ accusation either. I still wasn’t sure how to bring it up without risking her hounding me instead.

“Jeremy!” she snapped, snatching the ring from his hand with the speed of a trained falcon. “You’re not going to find out.”

Instantly annoyed, Jeremy rolled his eyes, not bothering to clarify himself as he backed away to open the fridge. “That stuff is Mom and Dad’s. You can’t just give it away.”

“I’m not giving it away,” she retorted, exasperated. “It’s called a loan, Jeremy.”

Elena turned her attention back to me, holding out her hand expectantly. I hesitated, twisting the ring around my finger. She clearly noticed my reluctance because her voice softened just a fraction. “Like I said, it’s just a loan, Emery. You’ll get it back in a few days.”

“You don’t have to do it, Em,” Jeremy interjected strongly. “Mom and Dad gave it to you.”

I glanced at Jeremy’s resolute expression, then back at Elena’s expectant one. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Jenna slipping out of the room, clearly sensing the brewing sibling standoff and wanting no part of it. Smart woman.

“And Mom promised Mrs. Lockwood, even after she gave it to you,” Elena countered, firm but still trying to sound reasonable.

I frowned, looking down at the ring. A thick silver band, intricately designed with twisting floral patterns. In the center sat a large opal stone that shimmered with a kaleidoscope of colors when the light hit it just right.

I remembered the day Mom and Dad gave it to me, a few days after our shared birthday. I’d been stunned, honestly. It wasn’t the kind of gift I ever expected to receive—definitely more in line with something Elena would love. Delicate, beautiful, meaningful—everything she adored and practically embodied.

Me? I wasn’t exactly the jewelry type. Rings got in the way when I sketched, snagging on pencils or digging into my palm. The only accessories I ever wore were my ever-expanding collection of earrings, and even that had started more as an act of rebellion than fashion. The upper lobe and helix piercings? A direct result of teenage spite and an argument with Dad. The satisfaction of seeing his exasperation at the time? Worth it.

And yet, for some reason, when they handed me the little velvet box, it had made me ridiculously happy that they’d wanted to entrust the heirloom to me.

Even now, the thought of parting with it twisted something in my chest.

I knew what Elena was getting at without her outright saying it. If Mom were still here, she’d be asking for the ring, too. She loved these heritage projects, always diving headfirst into any Founder’s Council nonsense that gave her the chance to bring history to life. And if she were the one asking, I’d probably sigh dramatically, roll my eyes, and then still hand it over. Because I’d know she’d get it back to me the second the event was over.

Sighing, I slid the ring off my finger, feeling an immediate pang of regret as the metal left my skin. I dropped it into Elena’s outstretched palm, ignoring the weird little shiver that ran down my spine as I let go.

“I better get it back,” I said quietly with a note of warning.

“You will,” Elena promised, trying not to sound exasperated as she locked it in the box.

Jeremy shook his head, muttering, “And when have we ever actually gotten our stuff back after these dumb heritage things?” before shutting the fridge door and walking out of the room.

I stiffened at his words, a twinge of doubt worming its way into my thoughts. He was exaggerating, sure, but there had been a few items over the years that mysteriously never made it back to us.

Before I could second-guess myself, the doorbell rang, echoing through the house. Elena stood, box in hand, and hurried off to answer it.

I slumped back into my chair with a groan, absently rubbing the now-empty spot on my finger. With a sigh, I flipped open my textbook, though the numbers on the page blurred together. The missing ring felt like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

Later that night, I decided to pull out my paints and attempt some therapeutic art.

It had been about a week since Tanner’s death, and the so-called “killer mountain lion” was finally caught the other day. Case closed. Everyone could sleep easy. Except, I don’t know… something about it felt too neat. Like trying to shove a square peg into a round hole and insisting it fit. My gut was doing that thing where it nagged at me like a nosy neighbor peeking over the fence.

That unease bled into my painting. No literal depictions of a killer—nothing so obvious. Instead, my brushstrokes brought to life a haunting scene: eerie, jagged shadows stretched like grasping fingers from a forest of skeletal trees, closing in on a pair of glowing red eyes that burned from the darkness. The longer I stared at the painting, the more unsettling it felt.

“Man, I’m really leaning into the goth aesthetic lately,” I muttered, tilting my head to examine the piece. Though the crow painting had gotten me a solid A+, that had also been a somewhat dark theme. If Sonia caught onto the pattern, she’d probably start give me some nonsense about it being ‘a sign’.

Maybe I needed to switch things up. Do something stupidly cheerful next. Like… a unicorn. With a rainbow. And a taco cat riding it.”

I snorted at the mental image, fingers twitching with the temptation to actually paint it. But before I could put a blank canvas on my easel set up by the window, the blaring chorus of False Pretense by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus crashed through my moment of creative inspiration.

Dropping my brush into the murky water-filled mason jar, I hopped off my stool and dove for my phone on the bedside table. Bonnie’s name lit up the screen.

“’Sup, Bon?” I answered, flopping onto my mattress.

“Hey, Emery. Did you get any of my texts?”

I pulled the phone away and checked the notifications. Three unread messages stared back at me. Must’ve been too caught up in painting to hear them go off.

“Nope,” I replied, putting the phone back to my ear.

“Oh. Well,” Bonnie hesitated for a second, her voice tiptoeing into careful territory, “I just wanted to know if you were going to the Founder’s—”

“Nope.” My response was immediate and absolute.

“Oh, come on, Em, please? I know you hate these things, but I really need someone to go with!”

I sighed, already sensing the battle ahead. I could practically hear the pout forming, but I wasn’t about to roll over that easily. “I do recall having a twin who actually likes these kinds of functions. Perhaps you’ve met her?”

“You know Elena’s going with Stefan,” Bonnie shot back without missing a beat.

Damn it. Fine, she had me there. “And Caroline?” I asked, fishing for an out.

“Damon.”

That made me sit up. “Wait, really? I’m shocked they’re still… whatever it is they are.”

I’d barely seen Caroline all week, and Damon had been conveniently MIA since game night. Not that I was complaining—especially after Elena let it slip that Damon had tried to get her to kiss him in some petty, soap-opera-level nonsense to tick off Stefan. If Damon was keeping himself busy with Caroline, at least he wasn’t causing problems elsewhere.

“I’m shocked she’s even still with him,” Bonnie said with disbelief. “Sure, he’s hot, but let’s be real—he’s the poster boy for bad decisions. I thought Caroline was smarter than that.”

“Mhmm,” I hummed in agreement, nodding to myself. “Damon’s pretty much the king of being an absolute dick. And Caroline’s never been the type to put up with anyone’s crap for long.” I paused, rubbing the back of my neck as I tried to make sense of it. “Honestly, they make about as much sense together as putting ketchup on ice cream.”

“Right?” Bonnie agreed. “And gross, Em.” I grinned, positive she was shaking her head at me. “Anyway, you’re dodging the real question—are you coming with me or not?”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Fine. But I’m not staying all night. And you have to do my hair because Elena’s idea of hairstyling is a flat iron and a prayer.”

“Deal!” Bonnie chirped, her enthusiasm practically vibrating through the phone. “Thank you, thank you! I know you hate these parties, but I really didn’t want to show up alone and look like a loser.”

“Ah, yes. What a cruel, unjust society we live in, where a woman can’t attend a party solo without being unfairly judged,” I lamented.

Bonnie giggled. “You can fight against the social norms later, Em. Do you even have something to wear?”

That was a very good question. My eyes flicked toward my closet, but I made exactly zero effort to move and look. “Uh, yeah? I think I still have that teal dress from last year.”

“… You seriously need to go shopping.”

“Yeah,” I drawled out the word mock-thoughtfully. “But I’d rather spend my money on more paint.”

“Typical.” She scoffed playfully. “Well, if it doesn’t work out, I can bring some of my dresses for you to try.”

“Okey-dokey, I’ll let you know,” I said, planning to double-check the teal dress later. Bonnie was closer to my size than Elena, but I still couldn’t fit into either of their jeans. Her dresses might actually work—assuming they weren’t designed to suffocate. “What time are you coming over tomorrow?”

“Elena wants me to do her nails, so I’ll probably head over around four. That should give us plenty of time.”

“Sounds good.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow. And, Em? Thanks again. Seriously.”

“No problem-o,” I replied with exaggerated cheer before hanging up.

I let out a long sigh, tossing my phone onto the bed before rolling off it. I stared at my easel, but my inspiration for a new painting evaporated. My brain was now too busy spiraling about this party.

These stupid Founder’s events always had a way of blowing up in my face. Either some unnecessary drama goes down, or I ended up stuck in some boring, uncomfortable conversation about legacy and tradition from some random adult.

With a groan, I forced myself up and trudged toward my closet. “Might as well see if I can still squeeze into that dress…”

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“I don’t know, guys…” I muttered, tugging the hem of the dress down a little further as I walked out of the bathroom. My fingers fidgeted with the fabric as I faced Bonnie and Elena on the bed.

“What are you talking about? You look sexy!” Bonnie declared, staring at me like I’d lost my mind.

I grimaced, feeling anything but. “Not really the look I’m going for here…”

“Appropriately sexy, then,” Bonnie amended with a dramatic eye roll. “Honestly, Em, you look incredible.”

Elena chimed in, all warmth and encouragement. “Really, you do. That dress suits you.”

I glanced down at the dress again, skepticism practically radiating off me. The dress was Bonnie’s—a pretty mauve shift dress with a high lace, semi-see through neckline, that was supposed to drape elegantly and hit mid-thigh. Key words: supposed to. On her, it looked effortless and chic. On me? Not so much. Instead of flowing, it hugged everything—including the little roll of my stomach I usually pretended didn’t exist. And let’s not even talk about how every step I took threatened to hike the hem up even further.

“But it’s not even close to fitting me properly…” I muttered.

Bonnie waved a dismissive hand, clearly unfazed. “No one will know it wasn’t meant to be a bodycon dress,” she said confidently. “You look hot—dare I say, even better than I do in it.” She winked, and for a split second, my self-consciousness wavered.

Almost.

I groaned, throwing my head back. “Can’t I just wear my dress?”

Elena’s expression turned instantly mom mode, her eyes narrowing. “You are not leaving the house in a dress with massive ketchup stains on it.”

I snorted, caught between embarrassment and defiance. “Hey, accidents happen, okay? It’s not my fault the food sucked last year, and Matt and I were starving. What were we supposed to do—just not sneak out to get burgers?” I shot Elena a pointed look, adding under my breath, “Maybe if you’d actually paid attention to him that night, we wouldn’t have wanted to bail in the first place.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

Bonnie, ever the peacekeeper, quickly jumped in. “Well, you’re not ditching the party or me this year. And you are wearing this dress.”

Before I could protest, she thrust my wedged heels into my hands like a general arming a reluctant soldier.

“Just put these on,” she said, her tone brooking zero argument, “and wear the dress around the house. I promise you’ll feel more comfortable once you get used to it.”

I sighed, resigning myself to my fate. “Fine,” I grumbled, snatching the shoes. “And for the record, if I do ditch, I’ll at least invite you to get burgers with me first…”

“Thank you,” Bonnie said, grinning.

Elena just shook her head in exasperation as Bonnie led the way to start our nails down stairs.

I trailed after them, glancing down at the dress one more time. Maybe Bonnie was right. Maybe I’d get used to it.

Or maybe I’d spend the entire night tugging at the hem, praying I didn’t wipe out in these heels and flash half the town in the process.

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I wandered around the kitchen aimlessly, the click of my heels echoing against the tile as I adjusted the hem of my dress. Bonnie had claimed the dining table, where she meticulously spread out her nail kit. She was sorting through tiny bottles of polish while Elena eyed the collection like she was debating a life-altering decision.

“Delicate flower or naughty vixen?” Bonnie asked, holding up two shades for comparison.

Elena tapped her chin thoughtfully, the same spark of excitement she’d had this morning slowly returning to her features. “Tough call… Can we mix them?”

Bonnie shot her a sly glance. “Look at you, going all out for your date. You seem happy-ish.”

“I am… ish,” Elena admitted with a laugh and a shrug. “Tonight’s going to be a good night. But don’t let that stop you from telling me whatever it is you wanted to tell me as soon as you walked in the door,” she added with a knowing look.

Bonnie hesitated, glancing at her hands like they might offer a distraction. “What if I tell you in the morning? I don’t want to ruin the night…”

Elena, ever the queen of stubbornness, planted a hand on her hip and gave Bonnie her patented you’re-not-getting-away-with-this look. “Bonnie. Out with it.”

Bonnie sighed, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “Okay, but it has to go in the vault because Caroline will kill me if it gets back to Damon that she squealed. Apparently, Stefan has a very interesting back story…”

Aaand that was my cue to exit. I could handle only so much boy drama before my patience ran out. Five minutes. Five minutes in a room with these two, and it was already about boys and secrets. Shocking.

Speaking of boys though…

Drifting into the living room, I snatched up my phone from the coffee table where I left it. This damn dress didn’t have pockets and I dreaded lugging around a purse all evening… Sitting down on the couch, I fired off a quick text to Matt.

“Absolutely positive u wont go to the party with us??”

If it wasn’t for me trying to spare Bonnie from being a third wheel, I’d have skipped this entire thing without a second thought, happily sprawled out in bed with a tub of ice cream while watching ancient archaeology documentaries on my laptop. The least Matt could do was come along and share in my suffering.

His response came almost instantly.

“4 the millionth time Em- nope :p”

I groaned aloud, then typed the groan out because he needed to know exactly how much he was letting me down.

“Uuuughh…”

I stared at the screen, waiting for a response that I knew wouldn’t come.

Matt had been impossible to budge ever since… well, since the incident at the game last week. Tyler had hurt my brother, left me with a bruise on my face that was only now starting to fade (and seriously, how did Jeremy come out of that with barely a scratch on his face?), and to top it off, Matt’s sister was apparently now his date to the party after I’d gone AWOL on him. Matt didn’t want to face any of it, and honestly, I couldn’t blame him.

Still, it stung a little. We’d only just started reconnecting, and I’d been hoping we could hang out like old times. Matt had always been my go-to for these things—at least, until he started dating Elena. Even then, he’d never let it interfere with our friendship. Sure, it got awkward sometimes, but we always worked through it.

But now, it almost felt like I was losing him again, and I couldn’t shake the bitter taste it left behind.

I leaned back, letting my head rest against the cushions. My annoyance simmered beneath the surface as I replayed the events of the past week.

Matt had tried to confide in me about his mixed feelings—about Tyler, about his sister, about everything—but it took hindsight to realized I hadn’t exactly been the most supportive listener. Not when I was so angry at Tyler myself. I wanted to help Matt, I really did, but every time his name came up, all I could think about was the bruise on my face and Tyler’s infuriating refusal to even acknowledge what he’d done.

I felt bad, knowing my current attitude toward Tyler put Matt in a difficult place. He didn’t want to snub Tyler forever, and to be real, I didn’t either. I hated holding grudges—it wasn’t fun, and it wasn’t something I enjoyed carrying around—but everyone knew I was damn good at it when the situation called for it. And this? Oh, this situation called for it.

And it wasn’t as if I was unreasonable when it came to forgiveness. Half the time, all it took was a genuine, heartfelt apology—just a little effort—to make things right. I wasn’t asking for grand gestures or over-the-top groveling, just a shred of accountability. But Tyler? Tyler couldn’t even manage a passing glance at the mess he’d made, let alone own up to it.

So, yeah, I wasn’t holding my breath. If Tyler wanted to fix things, the ball was entirely in his court. Until then, I was perfectly content to keep him right where he belonged: at the very top of my grudge list.

My phone buzzed.

“U’ll survive.”

“Sure I will,” I muttered in defeat, tossing my phone back onto the couch with a sigh.

Deciding to make the best of my time, I tested the dress by walking up and down the stairs a few times. It wasn’t exactly the most exciting activity, but I needed to know if this thing was going to betray me mid-party. By the fourth trip without the hem riding up, I grudgingly accepted that I’d survive the night in it. For now, though, I wanted nothing more than to peel it off and swap it for my favorite jeans. Besides, I didn’t want to risk smearing nail polish or makeup on it while getting ready.

Just as I was about to head upstairs to change, the doorbell rang. I paused at the bottom of the stairs, debating whether I could get away with yelling at Elena to answer the it, but decided it wouldn’t be worth her lecture about not being lazy, considering the door was practically right in my face.

Grumbling, I opened the door, fully prepared to dismiss whoever was on the other side—until I saw Tyler standing there.

Great. Just what I needed.

He leaned against the doorframe, a cocky smirk spreading across his face as his eyes swept over me. “Damn, you actually dressed hot this time.”

I hated how I couldn’t immediately tell if he meant it as a half-hearted joke between friends or if he was just being his new sleazy self. Either way, it pissed me off.

“Fuck off,” I snapped, glaring as I slammed the door shut.

Unfortunately, he caught it before I could.

“Oh, c’mon, Emery. Seriously?” he said, looking at me incredulously. “It was a joke.”

I raised an eyebrow, folding my arms across my chest. “Oh really? Like how it was a ‘joke’ when you beat up my little brother?”

His expression shifted to irritation. “You’re seriously going to be that way? Your brother wasn’t innocent either, you know,” he argued, his voice rising.

“And my face wasn’t then too, huh?” I shot back harshly, pointing to the fading bruise on my cheek—the one I’d spent the past week hiding under layers of makeup to avoid questions. I still felt terrible for lying to Jenna about how I got it.

His gaze flickered to my left cheek, currently makeup-free, and for a brief moment, I though I caught a flash of guilt across his features. But if I did, it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced with a defensive frown.

“Em, who’s at the door—oh, Tyler,” Elena’s voice interrupted, drawing both our attention. She appeared in the hallway, her eyes darting between the two of us as she picked up on the tension almost immediately. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

Tyler exhaled sharply, clearly glad to shift his focus. “I’m here for my mom. She told me to pick up a box of stuff.”

A box of stuff with my ring in it, I realized bitterly. I didn’t trust myself not to say something I’d regret, so I left Elena to deal with him. Without a word, I turned and headed up the stairs as carefully as I could in heels, my heart pounding with frustration.

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I lay in bed after Bonnie finished my nails, trying my hardest not to move a muscle. She was still downstairs with Elena, working on her own nails, and I was determined not to mess mine up this time. Waiting for them to dry was always the worst. I had a bad habit of getting impatient and smudging them before they were fully set. But not tonight. Tonight, I was determined to keep them perfect.

Apparently, too determined, because at some point, I must’ve dozed off. The next thing I knew, I was jolted awake by the sound of shouting in the hallway.

“Screw you. I would never sell this, okay?”

“Then why did you take it?”

“Because it’s supposed to be mine! Dad said it goes to the firstborn son. His father gave it to him, and now what?”

It didn’t take much to piece together what was happening. Jeremy must’ve taken the pocket watch from the box Elena had just handed off to Tyler earlier. I could still remember when Dad first showed us the watch, how proud he’d looked as he explained it had been passed down to the men in our family for generations, and someday, it would be his.

“…And he was going to give it to you,” Elena’s voice softened with realization.

“Yeah.”

“Look, Jeremy, it’s still yours, okay?” Elena said, her tone calm but strained. “Mom promised Mrs. Lockwood. What do you want me to do?”

“Just take it and get out.”

The harsh sound of a door slamming followed, and I could practically feel the flinch of hurt Elena likely experienced at the action. I sympathized with her, but more than that, I empathized with Jeremy. I knew what it was like to have something of yours, something tied to your identity, suddenly feel out of reach. I could only imagine how much this was tearing him up inside. But even worse than my situation, Dad didn’t even personally get the chance to hand it off to Jeremy.

I got out of bed and padded to the door, leaning against the frame. Elena was still standing in the hallway, staring down at the pocket watch in her hand like it might burn her.

My fingers drifted to the empty spot where my ring used to sit. “Just like how the ring is still mine, yeah?” I said quietly.

Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I meant it as a bitter jab or some kind of reassurance—like a reminder that she’d promised I’d get it back after the party. Judging by the way her shoulders stiffened and her eyes flicked to me with uncertainty, she didn’t know how to take it either.

“The party’s starting soon. We should hurry up and finish getting ready,” she said, her voice flat, refusing to meet my gaze.

She turned and headed downstairs, leaving me alone in the hallway. I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, staring after her.

This was going to be a long night. I could already feel it.

Wait—shit, are my nails dry?

I quickly yanked my hand away, inspecting the black polish—the color both Bonnie and Elena had tried to talk me out of, insisting I pick something “prettier,” but I had refused to budge on it. With a careful touch, I checked the surface of the polish and instantly sighed in relief at its solid, unblemished finish.

I grinned to myself. Naps for the win! Though, realistically, it was probably just dumb luck that I hadn’t smudged them while I was out.

My grin faded when my eyes landed on Jeremy’s door. The sound of his video game blasted at an obnoxiously high volume—louder than any one person needed to hear—made it clear he was still stewing over the watch and Elena’s decision to hand it off to Tyler.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, debating. I wanted to talk to him, to check on him, but it probably wasn’t the best time. He’d shut me out as quickly as he had Elena, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy to deal with his anger right now.

Besides, Elena was right. I still needed to finish getting ready.

My hair and makeup weren’t going to magically do themselves, and I had to double-check if my concealer would actually cover this stupid bruise this time. The last thing I needed was for the Founding Families to start whispering about me like a pack of vultures circling fresh gossip.

Though, a small, petty part of me was sorely tempted to let the rumors reach Mrs. Lockwood. Let her hear about how her golden boy decided to take a swing at me. The thought of watching Tyler squirm under his mother’s withering gaze was dangerously satisfying.

I shook my head, pulling myself out of it. As tempting as it was, the drama wasn’t worth it. I turned toward my room, determined to get through the evening without adding fuel to the fire. Though if Tyler even looked at me wrong, all bets were off.

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Chapter Text

Ten

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“I’m already regretting this,” I muttered to Bonnie beside me, who, might I say, was looking effortlessly cute in her off-white empire waist dress. The halter neckline, the delicate floral pattern, the soft curls cascading over her shoulders—it was like she’d waltzed straight out of a summer romance novel.

Meanwhile, I stood there, palms clammy, feeling like an overdressed fraud in my clingy mauve dress and tights. I resisted the urge to smooth down the fabric for the hundredth time, mostly because I knew Bonnie would slap my hand away if I did.

In front of us, the Lockwood Mansion loomed, grand and imposing, like something out of a historical drama where people dramatically stare out of windows and harbor tragic secrets. I could have dramatically lamented my impending doom, waxing poetic about the mansion’s foreboding aura. But in all honesty? I loved this place.

A 200-year-old neoclassical masterpiece, complete with those massive Greek Ionic columns that made my little art-and-history-loving heart swoon, the Lockwood Mansion was gorgeous. Growing up friends with Tyler, and having parents heavily involved in the council, meant I’d spent plenty of time here, and every visit left me eager to see more. Carol Lockwood loved that about me—she always lit up whenever I gushed over the architecture. What could I say? I was a sucker for well-preserved history.

Unfortunately, tonight wasn’t about admiring the mansion—it was about suffering through the Founder’s Party.

“Too late now,” Bonnie whispered, practically vibrating with excitement as she scanned the elegantly dressed crowd at the entrance. She was thrilled about attending a fancy event, while I was already counting down the hours until we could leave.

I wrinkled my nose but kept my complaints to myself. I wasn’t about to rain on her parade.

“I thought Elena and I told you that you’d look better without the tights?” Bonnie teased, giving me a pointed look.

I glanced down at my legs, which were now a slightly darker shade thanks to the sheer tights I’d thrown on last minute. Listen—I hadn’t shaved, I wasn’t going to shave, and since it took Bonnie this long to notice, that meant they weren’t that obvious.

“It’s called compromise,” I said, lifting my chin like I’d just solved world peace. “I wear the dress, if I get to wear the tights. Non-negotiable.”

Bonnie rolled her eyes but smiled. “Fine, I won’t argue with that.”

“Wise decision,” I said with a smirk.

Ahead of us, Stefan was doing his usual Prince Charming routine, offering his arm to Elena as they exchanged the kind of sweet, loving smiles that belonged in a rom-com montage. The picture-perfect couple. I exhaled sharply, biting my tongue before my anxiety made me blurt out something snarky just for the sake of self-preservation.

Instead, I turned to Bonnie and, in the most exaggeratedly formal gesture I could muster, offered her my arm. “M'lady?”

She giggled, playing along as we loosely linked arms and started toward the house.

If I was going to suffer through this night, I might as well make it entertaining.

As we approached the entrance, Elena, ever the model socialite, greeted Mayor Lockwood with her signature politeness. “Hi, Mayor Lockwood.”

The mayor flashed us the kind of polished, political smile that probably came with a handbook. “Hey. Hey, guys, come on in.” Without missing a beat, he turned his attention to the next group, clearly running on autopilot.

I shook my head as we walked past. I wouldn’t have even bothered with the pleasantries, but Elena insisted on these exhausting social niceties. She had this dumb, self-imposed burden of taking on all the responsibilities of the Gilbert family, like she was the last line of defense for our so-called legacy. Sure, Mom had instilled a love of history in me, but as far as I was concerned—legacy, smegacy. There was only so far I’d go with something that sounded like the premise of a bad period drama.

Now, Mayor Lockwood? Couldn’t stand the guy. Tyler had let a few things slip over the years—nothing super detailed, but just enough for me to know his dad treated him like garbage. That was enough to cement my permanent no, thanks when it came to the man. Still, if I had to choose between his curt, autopilot greeting and Carol Lockwood’s aggressively friendly, long-winded welcome speeches, I’d take the mayor’s half-hearted indifference any day.

Carol, bless her misguided heart, had way too much of a soft spot for me. Ever since Tyler and I hit what she deemed a respectable age, she’d been not-so-subtly hinting that we should date. Apparently, being a part of one the more well-off Founding Families made me a prime candidate. Add to that the fact that Elena had already snagged Matt as her high school sweetheart, and Carol seemed determined to pair Tyler and me up like we were pawns on her personal chessboard.

It used to crack Tyler and me up. I’d tease him about it relentlessly, and he’d just roll his eyes and mutter that his mom clearly didn’t know us well enough to realize how horrific that idea was. We both knew that if Carol ever got a full, unfiltered glimpse of me—the girl who practically lived in worn-out band T-shirts and scuffed Converse, had more piercings than was socially acceptable (which I’d removed, begrudgingly, after relentless nagging from Elena), specialized in sarcasm, and would rather sketch moody art in a quiet corner than suffer through small talk with the Lockwoods’ crowd—she’d be hitting the brakes on her matchmaking schemes real fast.

I had exactly zero interest in being anyone’s trophy girlfriend, and the thought of Carol eventually figuring that out always brought a smirk to my face. But for now, I planned to stay on her good side—I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and with my incredibly marketable skill set of historical trivia, snark, and morbid creativity, it wouldn’t hurt to stay friendly with the influential rich.

But Tyler and I were friends. Just friends. That’s all we’d ever been.

…Or, well. Maybe not even that anymore.

My hands clenched into fists as I thought about how royally pissed I still was at him. Lately, he’d been acting like a complete jackass—arrogant, temperamental, and dismissive, like he was auditioning for the role of Most Punchable Personality. Sure, he’d always had hints of those tendencies, but somehow, one summer apart had cranked them up to an unbearable degree. And the worst part? I didn’t see him apologizing or changing anytime soon. That realization took what was left of my anger and drained it, leaving behind nothing but a hollow sort of disappointment.

“Hey, Em, are you okay?”

Bonnie’s voice snapped me out of my spiraling thoughts. I blinked, turning to find her watching me with a concerned crease between her brows.

I forced a casual shrug, shaking off the direction my thoughts took. “Just spacing out.”

“Nothing unusual there,” Bonnie teased playfully, pulling a small smile from me despite myself.

“Come on,” I said, shifting gears fast. “Let’s see if the food’s any better this time.”

Bonnie’s excitement didn’t waver as she followed me toward the buffet table. “As long as you don’t ditch me if you end up disappointed.”

I stopped for a second, tilting my head in exaggerated contemplation. “No promises.”

“Very funny, Em…” Bonnie rolled her eyes, but her grin made it clear she wasn’t actually mad.

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“I’m gonna grab a drink. Want one?” Bonnie asked, still slightly out of breath as we stumbled off the dance floor. She was practically glowing, her smile as bright as ever.

After eating at the buffet—which was pretty mediocre, but good enough for free, I suppose (and not so bad that I wanted to leave)—I figured I’d at least make the best out of the night by hitting the dance floor. The Lockwoods, being their usual pretentious selves, had the band stuck on soft classical music—perfect for couples, but a total buzzkill for platonic dates or anyone flying solo. I wasn’t about to let that slide.

A little coaxing (and a discreet cash bribe—thank you, small leather purse borrowed from Elena, for allowing me to carry my wallet) was all it took to convince the band to shake things up with something modern and upbeat. The second the music changed, so did the mood. Dragging Bonnie onto the dance floor took some effort, but once she got into it, others followed. Before long, the place was alive—twirling, laughing, energy buzzing in the air.

Of course, fun and Lockwood events went together about as well as oil and water. Carol Lockwood eventually swept in like the buzzkill-in-chief and marched straight to the band, her disapproving glare cutting through the crowd. The music snapped back to its dull, upper-class-approved selections, and I didn’t need to stick around to see her smug little victory lap.

I shook my head at Bonnie’s offer. “Nah, I’m good. I think I’ll check out the Founders’ heirlooms instead. Might as well soak up some ‘legacy.’” I threw in some finger quotes for good measure.

Bonnie raised a brow, then rolled her eyes. “Okay, weirdo.”

Oh. Right. That had been an internal thought and she had no context. Whoops. No point in explaining now.

“I’m gonna find Elena. Meet you later?”

“Sure thing,” I said, already peeling off toward the mansion.

The sun had set completely, and the clear night sky stretched above, dotted with stars. I made my way across the lawn, weaving through clusters of fancily dressed guests. Elena was probably done looking at the heirlooms by now and off in some dark corner sucking face with Stefan (gross), considering she missed out on all the fun dancing. Her loss.

As I reached the mansion’s large back porch, I spotted Jenna sitting at one of the tables with a drink in hand, shoulder’s slumped forward. I was happy to see she made it after spending all day at the college working on her thesis. But the closer I got, the clearer it became that she wasn’t just tired, and that something more was bothering her. She looked… dejected.

I approached with my usual flair. “I was about to tackle you in excited glee at your attendance, but I figured you’d be unable to defend yourself due to the alcoholic beverage stuck to your face,” I proclaimed, shadowing over her in concern.

Jenna barely reacted. “Hello, Emery,” she greeted me glumly, looking up from her drink—very reluctantly, might I add.

I dropped into the chair next to her, frowning. “Wow. That bad, huh? What sorrows are we drowning tonight?”

She sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. Jenna wasn’t the type to bottle things up—one of the many reasons I loved her—so after only a moment of hesitation, she finally spoke. “Logan’s here.”

I raised a brow. “You mean Scumbag?”

Her lips twitched, almost smiling. “Yes. And apparently, he wants a second chance.”

I winced theatrically. “Yikes. That’s messy.”

“Tell me about it,” she groaned, downing the rest of her drink in one go.

I tilted my head, studying her. “Do you… want to give him a second chance?”

“No!” she said immediately. Then, softer, “I don’t know. How could I? Not after what he did.”

“Oof. Sounds bad,” I said, leaning back in my chair with mock caution. “Better not tell me the details. Chances are, if I see him, I might actually tackle him—except it won’t be in hug formation like I was planning for you.”

That earned me a small, reluctant smirk. “Believe me, I wasn’t planning on telling you. That would be a disaster. Though…” She tapped her empty glass thoughtfully. “I might reconsider if he keeps annoying me tonight.”

She stood suddenly, smoothing down her dress. “Anyway, you should be hanging out with people your age. You know, teenagers? Meanwhile, I’m going to go be an adult and get another drink.”

I grinned at her retreating form. “And as an adult, I don’t have to remind you to be responsible, right?”

She glanced over her shoulder, sticking her tongue out at me. “As an adult, I can do whatever I want.”

I chuckled, watching her disappear into the crowd before heading off toward the heirloom room.

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I’ve always had a soft spot for old things—architecture, furniture, pottery, paintings—you name it. If it had history, I was interested. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when or why this fascination started. Maybe it was all those childhood museum trips with Grandma Diane, where she somehow made every exhibit feel like a treasure hunt. Or maybe it was Mom’s relentless dedication to the Founders’ Council and all their events, like the one I was trudging through now.

Whatever the reason, history had always sucked me in. I could spend hours meticulously observing every object, reading every description, trying to absorb as much as possible. It was like trying to bottle up pieces of the past before they slipped away.

So, stepping into the room filled with Founders’ heirlooms, I tried to treat it like a museum exhibit. I really did. And for the most part, it worked. I’d seen a lot of these artifacts before, knew the stories behind a good number of them. But it hit differently when some of those stories intersected with mine.

Some of these weren’t just historical relics—they were family memories.

I used to touch these things, make actual memories with them. Now, they sat stiffly displayed on stands or locked behind glass, cold and distant. Just objects for strangers to gawk at. The hardest to see were the wedding rings.

Those rings… I used to see them every day. I used to hold the hands that wore them.

Now, they sat on display, lifeless and far removed from what they represented.

For the most part, I’d been holding up fine—just waves of nostalgia, the occasional pang of sadness that disappeared as quickly as it came. But seeing those rings there hit differently. It hurt. Like a punch to the gut. For a fleeting moment, I regretted coming into this room alone.

I almost wished Elena was here. Almost. But then I remembered she had Stefan to lean on, and—ugh—the bitterness in me reared its ugly head.

Really, Em? Way to be petty.

I grimaced at myself, almost wishing I could slap the thought out of my head. I could practically hear Mom's voice teasing me, telling me to me nice to my sister.

I forced myself to move on, stepping away from the family heirlooms before I spiraled too far down memory lane. No sense in ruining what had been a halfway decent evening so far.

The paintings on the walls caught my attention next. Most of them were the standard portraits of rich, old men with graying hair and stiff poses—thrilling. But then I noticed a framed piece of parchment on the far wall.

The very first Founders’ Party guest list, carefully preserved and displayed like a prized artifact.

Huh, this was new to me.

I leaned in closer, studying the elegant, old-fashioned cursive. Nobody wrote like this anymore. Hell, I didn’t write like this—and I was an artist. My handwriting was actually atrocious. If I ever wanted it to look remotely decent, I had to treat it like drawing instead of writing. Dad had always got a good laugh out of it.

I scanned the names with idle curiosity, quickly recognizing the Gilberts—of course, thanks to all those family “history lessons.” The usual suspects were there too: Lockwood, Fell, Robinson, Jones… but then my finger froze over two particular names.

Stefan Salvatore and Damon Salvatore.

I frowned. Well, that was… weird. It wasn’t impossible for names to be passed down through generations—Founding Families loved their traditions, after all—but still. That was a hell of a coincidence. Had they been volatile brothers too?

Amused, I briefly entertained the idea of tracking down portraits of the old Salvatores. Maybe I’d find some eerie resemblance to Elena’s Stefan. Now that would be interesting. I could definitely squeeze in a joke or two.

I wandered around the room again, eyes skimming over the portraits and displays, half-expecting some dramatic revelation to fall into my lap. But inevitably, my gaze got sucked right back to the Gilbert collection. Specifically, Great-Grandma Beth’s ring.

My ring.

The absence of it hit me all at once, a hollow ache settling in my chest. I suddenly felt bare without the opal stone on my finger, as though a piece of me was missing.

Before I could sink any deeper into that delightful pit of existential dread, I spun on my heel and made for the exit—only to smack straight into a solid figure rounding the doorway. My heel slipped, my ankle twisting awkwardly as I stumbled backward.

Cold hands caught my shoulders just in time to keep me from face-planting.

“I’m sorry—oh, Emery. Hey, I’m looking for Elena. Have you seen her?”

I blew a strand of hair out of my face and looked up, immediately wishing I hadn’t when I found Stefan was the culprit.

I narrowed my eyes, noting the faint crease between his brows and the tension in his jaw. He looked… off. Not that I cared to dig into whatever broody nonsense was eating at him. I was not in the mood to play therapist.

“Shouldn’t you know? She’s your date.” The words came out sharper than I intended, but I wasn’t about to backtrack now.

His expression flickered, like he hadn’t expected the bite. But—ugh—he didn’t snap back. He never did. Just gave me that look—the polite, unreadable one that made me feel like he was cataloging my every word for later analysis. It was maddening.

“She left the dance floor,” he finally said, infuriatingly calm. “I thought maybe she went to find you.”

I crossed my arms, mostly to keep from throwing up my hands in frustration. “Well, I haven’t seen her. Try somewhere else. I spotted Damon earlier—maybe ask him. Seems like he’s always lurking around where he doesn’t belong.”

Oof. Okay. Bringing up Damon was unnecessary and petty. Even I knew that. But was I going to take it back? Nope.

And, sure enough, Stefan’s jaw ticked—just enough to confirm I’d struck a nerve.

“Right.” He straightened, stepping back like he was dismissing me entirely. “Thanks for your help, Emery.”

It was polite, but the subtext was clear: You’re not worth engaging with right now. And, annoyingly, that stung more than it should have.

“Anytime,” I chirped, matching his fake politeness with a fake little smile of my own. It probably looked more like I’d just bitten into a lemon.

The second he turned on his heel and walked away, I exhaled, all my frustration and relief coming out in one big rush.

God, that guy is infuriating.

Always so composed, so guarded. Talking to him was like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall that occasionally threw out cryptic fortune-cookie wisdom or fun facts. No wonder Elena had bailed on him tonight. I didn’t know the details, but I did know my sister. She wouldn’t just walk away from Stefan on the dance floor unless something had gotten under her skin.

And yet here I was, letting him get under mine.

Shaking my head, I veered down the opposite hallway, sticking to the edges of the party like some kind of antisocial cryptid. I wasn’t in the mood to be perceived, let alone ambushed by well-meaning adults trying to corner me with “How are you holding up?” or worse—“Would you be interested in painting our family portrait?”

I just wanted a quiet corner for two seconds, please. But the endless chatter, the clinking of glasses, the distant hum of music—it was all starting to grate on my last nerve. I could feel my mood spiraling, that awful chest-tightening mix of sadness and frustration creeping in like an unwelcome party crasher.

My thumb instinctively rubbed over the bare skin of my finger. Fantastic. I hadn’t even realized I’d picked up that habit until now. I’d been doing it ever since the ring had been loaned.

Why did I even bother coming to this stupid party?

Then, finally, a bright spot.

Through the open doorway of one of the parlor rooms, I spotted Bonnie. Oh. Right. That’s why.

I suddenly hoped I hadn’t been gone too long—no need to add bad date to the growing list of things bringing me down. But relief washed over me when I noticed she wasn’t alone. Elena was there too.

They were sitting together on this ridiculously gorgeous antique French Provincial settee, a cream floral one with a painted gold frame. The kind of thing Mom would have absolutely drooled over. And for some reason, that thought settled me a little.

Without thinking, I pulled my phone from my purse and snapped a quick picture of the two of them. Too perfect not to. I was lining up another shot when Bonnie’s voice broke through my focus, tinged with guilt.

“This is my fault,” she said softly.

I frowned, sliding my phone back into my purse as I quickly made my way over.

“I planted doubt,” Bonnie added, wringing her hands. “I’m a doubt planter.”

I couldn’t help myself. “Bonnie, Bonnie, Bonnie,” I said, wagging a finger at her with mock severity. “At it again, I see—planting the seedlings of doubt and letting them grow into strangling vines. When will you learn?” I clicked my tongue and shook my head in faux disappointment, sitting on the loveseat adjacent to them.

Bonnie ducked her head, looking genuinely guilty, and Elena immediately glared at me. I held my hands up in surrender. Whoops. Guess I’d walked in on something serious.

“Don’t listen to her,” Elena said, brushing off my comment like a mosquito. “Em doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” She turned to Bonnie with a softer look. “Honestly, it’s not your fault. I just—I feel terrible because I said I wouldn’t get in the middle of it, and then I did exactly that. I got all snotty.”

My brows furrowed as I watched her. What was she even talking about? I didn’t know, but now I kind of wanted to. Still, I wasn’t about to push. Yet.

Oh. Cake.

Before I could stop myself, I snagged the plate and fork from Elena’s lap and took a massive bite. Red velvet. Bless.

Elena rolled her eyes at my exaggerated moan of delight. “Really?” she asked, dripping exasperation.

“Yes, really. You can’t just let red velvet sit there uneaten. That’s sacrilege.” I licked a bit of frosting off the fork for good measure.

“Elena, honey, there you are.”

Mrs. Lockwood’s sudden appearance had my shoulders tensing before I could even think to react. My instincts kicked in, scanning the room for an escape route. Too late.

“Oh, Emery! I didn’t realize you were here. I’m so glad you made it, dear,” she greeted, enveloping me in one of her signature soft, overly polite hugs—complete with a kiss on the cheek that I barely managed not to flinch from.

“Hello, Carol. It’s nice to see you again.” I forced a smile, one that felt just a hair too tight, but she was already turning her attention back to Elena, perching beside me with her usual flawless posture.

“I noticed the watch still isn’t in the collection,” Mrs. Lockwood said, her tone syrupy sweet but with that sharp undercurrent I recognized all too well from goofing off with Tyler as kids.

Elena’s expression shifted to the bashful regret she always pulled out when she wanted to seem earnest—fake, but good enough to pass. “Oh, um, I’m sorry, Mrs. Lockwood. I couldn’t find it. I guess it’s still packed up in my parents’ stuff somewhere.” She added just the right amount of guilt to sell the lie, though I could tell Mrs. Lockwood wasn’t fully buying it.

Her smile faltered for the briefest second before slipping back into place. “I see. Well, do let me know if you find it.”

Elena gave her an obedient nod. “Okay.”

Then Mrs. Lockwood’s gaze landed back on me, and I knew something unpleasant was coming. “And Emery, dear, would you mind keeping Tyler company? He’s been sulking alone all evening.”

Alone? I bit back a snort. Wonder who actually scared Vicki off this time—Tyler or his mom?

I plastered on a polite smile I absolutely did not mean. “Of course. I’ll go find him in a bit.”

Yeah, not happening.

Mrs. Lockwood seemed satisfied with my answer, patting my hand before rising gracefully and disappearing into the crowd. As soon as she was out of earshot, I turned to Elena, wide-eyed.

“You totally just lied to her face.”

Elena blushed, looking both sheepish and slightly proud of herself. Beside her, Bonnie let out a laugh she couldn’t quite hold back.

“What changed your mind?” I asked, softening my tone as I noticed the sudden seriousness in my sister’s expression.

Elena stared down at her hands, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “As the oldest, I thought it was my responsibility to fulfill Mom and Dad’s wishes. I thought I knew what they would’ve wanted, what they would’ve done.” She paused, and I could see the weight of the last few months reflected in her eyes. “But the watch means something to Jeremy. And Grandma’s ring? It’s yours, Em. It’s practically a part of you.” She shook her head, guilt flickering across her features. “Mom and Dad wouldn’t have taken them away from you guys. And they’re gone… I shouldn’t be so focused on what they would’ve wanted when you and Jeremy are still here.”

She finally looked up, her expression softening as she met my eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I’ll talk to Mrs. Lockwood before we leave and see if she’ll let us take the ring back tonight.”

I stared at her, stunned. Elena always followed the rules, always did what she thought was expected of her, even when it wasn’t what she believed. Seeing her make this decision? It was unexpected. And I was… touched?

A weird, stinging sensation crept into my nose, and I blinked rapidly, taking in a deep breath.

“Em—oof!” Elena’s words were cut off as I launched myself at her, wrapping her in a sudden, bone-crushing hug. She barely had time to react before I pulled away, now completely composed, my usual grin firmly in place.

“Ah, no worries, sis. I already know exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Now that I know you’ve got my back, that is.

Without giving her a chance to respond, I grabbed the cake plate, gave them a playful salute with the fork, and skipped off toward the hallway.

Just as I rounded the corner, I heard Bonnie’s laugh echo after me. “Your sister is so weird.”

“Yeah, she is,” Elena agreed, her voice warm with affection.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

With my back pressed firmly against the wall, I kept my breathing light and my steps deliberate. Slowly, I leaned forward to peek around the corner, my fingers gripping the edge of the wall like I was in some kind of low-budget spy movie. A grin tugged at my lips when I saw the hallway blissfully empty. Perfect.

Lucky me—the Lockwoods had decided to host the Founder’s speech outside under the canopy, drawing the majority of the partygoers away from the house. That meant fewer eyes, fewer interruptions, and—most importantly—easier access to the room where they were showing off the Founder’s heirlooms.

Sliding off my heels, I tucked them under my arm and bolted toward the room with near-silent steps. Years of track and cross-country practice had to be good for something, and apparently, my mad skills in stealth missions were it. Just as I was about to mentally applaud myself for my ninja-level execution—bam.

I collided face-first into something—or, as the startled yelp quickly revealed, someone—right in the doorway. The impact knocked the breath out of me, my heels clattering to the ground.

“Ack!” they shrieked, stumbling back as I tried to regain my balance.

Man, I really needed to start checking doorways before entering…

My squinting eyes finally made sense of the tangled mess of limbs and blonde hair. “Caroline?” I wheezed, rubbing my shoulder. “What are you doing here?”

Her expression wavered between guilt and annoyance, her usual over-polished composure cracked just enough to catch my interest. “What am I doing? What are you doing sprinting around like a lunatic?” she squeaked, the nervous, high-pitched edge easily giving away her attempt at trying to deflect.

Before I could press her, a voice cut in smoothly, making Caroline freeze. “I gave you one simple job…”

My head snapped to the sound behind her, instantly zeroing in on Damon Salvatore. He was leaning over an open jewelry box, his dark silhouette framed by the dim lighting.

“What are you doing?” I repeated my question, now directed at Damon. I folded my arms, tilting my head as I took in the sketchy scene before me. “A little late night treasure hunting?”

Caroline shrank back, visibly flinching as her gaze darted between us before nervously settling on Damon. “I’m sorry!” she burst out, gesturing frantically at me like I’d materialized out of thin air. “She came out of nowhere!”

Damon ignored her and stood up straight, the irritation I sensed from him quickly disappearing as he adopted the air of someone who had been caught but didn’t particularly care. “Oh, nothing of the sort. Just admiring the collection,” he said lazily, waving a hand toward the jewelry box like it was an interactive museum exhibit. “Fascinating stuff, really.”

I snorted, crossing my arms. “Right. Because when I think of you, I think ‘heirloom aficionado.’” My eyes flicked to the box, then back to him. “You can drop the act, Damon. I know what snooping looks like—I have a younger brother.”

He raised a hand in mock surrender, the picture of guilt. “Alright, you’ve got me. Caught red-handed. Very impressive.”

Caroline took the opportunity to inch toward the door, clearly eager to escape. “For the record,” she started, her voice gaining its confidence back, “he just dragged me up here to watch the door, Emery! I had nothing to do with this!” She tossed her hair over her shoulder with an exasperated huff. “I’m leaving. Hopefully I can enjoy the last of what’s turning out to be a terrible night.”

I watched her retreat down the hall, wondering briefly what had her so riled up. But before I could dwell on it, Damon’s low chuckle drew my attention back to him.

He stood there, deceptively casual, one hand tucked behind his back. But I wasn’t fooled—I’d already caught the glint of the gold chain dangling a yellow stone that he had oh-so-smoothly plucked from the box behind him. A piece I was pretty sure hadn’t been on display earlier. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, a challenge simmering in their depths as he drawled, “So, what are you going to do about it?”

For a fleeting second, I could’ve sworn his eyes flashed an unnatural black. I blinked hard, chalking it up to my imagination running a little too wild due to this mini espionage mission.

I shook my head to clear it, licking my dry lips as I debated my next move. Should I go through with it? My pulse still hammered in my ears from the run in, but before doubt could take root, I straightened my spine and strode barefoot toward him with determination.

“This,” I announced boldly, watching with satisfaction as his cocky smirk faltered, slowly replaced by furrowed-brow confusion. We stood barely a foot apart now, close enough for me to catch the scent of his cologne—something earthy and warm, laced with spice and a crisp hint of citrus. Entirely too fitting.

Without a second thought, I reached my arm around him—only to brush past his sleeve and snatch the ring displayed on the table behind him.

I turned the delicate band over in my fingers, inspecting it closely. Relief washed over me when I confirmed that nothing seemed amiss. With a smile, I slid it back onto my right ring finger where it belonged. The familiar feeling of the opal ring brought an immediate sense of comfort, like a missing puzzle piece finally snapping into place.

Holding up my hand to show of the ring, I flashed Damon a wink. “I won’t tell if you don’t,” I sang with a mischievous lilt.

Damon’s momentary confusion faded, replaced by a look of genuinely amused surprise. “You, Miss Gilbert, are certainly something else.”

I waved dismissively. “Please, ‘Miss Gilbert’ is my sister. I prefer Emery the Cunning. Or Emery the Great—something with that flair.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “Anyway, do we have a deal?” I held out my hand expectantly, lips quirking into a cheeky smile.

Damon shook his head, his chuckle deep and throaty as he reached for my outstretched hand. “We do,” he agreed smoothly—though instead of shaking it like a normal person, he opted to kiss the back of my hand.

Weirdo.

My smile faltered slightly as I noticed his gaze lingering on the ring, the same curious interest he’d shown back in the school parking lot. I made a mental note to keep an eye on him—and my jewelry. Just in case kleptomania was part of his charm.

“If I may ask,” he began, his tone almost too casual, “what’s so special about this ring that you’re willing to risk turning thief over it?”

I glanced down at the opal, my thumb brushing over its smooth surface. “It belonged to my great-grandmother on my mom’s side,” I answered, my voice dropping without meaning to. My eyes trailed to my parents’ wedding rings on display. “It was the last birthday present I got from my parents. The last one I’ll ever get from them.”

Damon’s gaze followed mine as he simply gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment. No witty comeback this time. Not that I expected one—sentimentality didn’t seem to be his thing.

Clearing my throat, I shifted, eager to steer the conversation out of emotional waters. “Now, if I may ask,” I said, brighter now, “what’s so important about that necklace?” I nodded toward the chain he was attempting to discreetly pocket. Nice try, buddy.

Damon paused, but almost immediately his smirk reappeared as he revealed his hand, clutching the necklace dramatically to his chest. “Wouldn’t you know—it belonged to my great-grandmother,” he drawled, his voice thick with mockery. “What a strange coincidence, hm?”

“Ha-ha,” I deadpanned, fixing him with an unimpressed stare. “Fine, I see how it is. One-way street down Damon Lane. Keep your secrets—I probably don’t want to know anyway.” Turning on my heel, I huffed, crossing my arms for good measure.

Before I could take two steps, his hand landed on my head, ruffling my hair and unraveling the side French braid there. “Now you’re catching on.”

“Hey!” I whipped around and swatted his hand, glaring as I tried to salvage Bonnie’s hard work. “Watch it, Salvatore. I still have to survive one more hour of this shindig without looking like I got caught in a wind storm.”

Damon laughed richly, thoroughly entertained by my irritation. “So, Emery the Cunning, what’s the grand plan now?” he teased. “Waltz out of here with your stolen treasure and pretend nothing happened?”

I shrugged innocently. “Who said anything about stolen? I’m simply… reclaiming what’s already mine. No harm, no foul.” I shot him a wry smile. “Besides, you’re the only real thief here.”

He pressed a hand to his chest, feigning offense. “Ouch. And here I thought we were bonding over the art of theft.”

“The only bond we have is the one where we both keep our mouths shut,” I retorted, rolling my eyes.

His lips curved into a devilish grin. “My lips are sealed,” he promised, miming a zipper across his mouth. Then, with a wink, he turned and sauntered off, leaving me alone in the dimly lit room.

I exhaled, shaking my head with a small smile.

What a weirdo.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

After nearly ten minutes of weaving through guests and dodging overly chatty socialites (like seriously, why would anyone stop me of all people to pull into a conversation?), I finally spotted Bonnie standing alone in the formal dining room. I felt a little bad, knowing we’d come to this party together, but I’d barely stayed by her side. Then again, she’d had Elena keeping her company earlier, so she hadn’t been completely abandoned. At least that’s what I told myself to feel better.

Now that I thought about my sister, it occurred to me that I hadn’t seen Elena with Stefan since we split up hours ago. The memory of Bonnie’s snarky comment earlier about being a “doubt-planter” resurfaced. Was that about Stefan? I groaned inwardly, realizing that if it was, I’d likely get the whole dramatic breakdown when we returned home.

“There you are, Bonnie. Sorry, didn’t mean to be gone so long.” I offered her a sheepish smile, stepping closer. “You wanna see if we can convince the band to play some more upbeat music? We could squeeze in one last dance before we call it a night.”

She didn’t respond. Bonnie stared straight ahead, her shoulders stiff, and it wasn’t until I put a hand on her arm that she flinched like I’d snapped her out of a trance.

“Bonnie? Are you okay?” I asked, now concerned.

She turned to me, her wide olive eyes darting around the candlelit room like she was looking for an escape route—or a threat. “Oh, um, yeah,” she stammered unconvincingly, her voice wavering. “I’m fine. I just… I’m not feeling great. I think I want to head home now. Get some sleep.”

I frowned, watching her closely. “Are you sure? I mean, I can get Elena or Jenna to take me home if you’re not feeling up for company, but… you’re okay to drive?”

She nodded quickly, though the motion was jerky, like she was trying to convince herself. “Yeah, I’m good. Promise. It’s just been a long night.” She offered a tight, brittle smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

I wasn’t buying it. “Bonnie, maybe I should drive you—”

“I’ll see you later, Emery,” she cut me off abruptly, walking past me before I could stop her.

“Bonnie, wait!” I called after her, having to stop when a couple walked right in front of me, but she was already disappearing through the doorway.

Before I could chase her down, someone else’s voice cut through the din.

“Em! There you are!”

I turned to see my sister making a beeline for me. She sounded urgent, her expression even more so.

“What’s wrong?” I sighed, already bracing myself as she grabbed my arm and pulled me off to the side.

“I need your help finding Caroline,” she said in a rush, glancing over her shoulder as though someone might overhear. “Something’s… something’s wrong. I think Damon’s been hurting her.”

I blinked, trying to process her words. “What do you mean, hurting her?”

Elena’s face twisted with guilt and horror, her voice lowering to a near whisper. “He’s been biting her,” she said, the words coming out fast, like they physically hurt to say. “Leaving scars. Bruises. I—I know she’s been acting weird lately, but I never would’ve thought it was because he’s… abusing her.”

It took a moment for her words to sink in. “He’s been what?” I asked incredulously, my voice rising slightly.

She nodded, her guilt shining like a spotlight in her eyes. “I should’ve been paying more attention. She needed help, and I was too busy—”

“Stop.” I cut her off before she could spiral any further. “It’s not all on you, Elena. I noticed something was off too, but I didn’t say anything either.”

And I hated myself for it.

The sick feeling in my stomach grew as Caroline’s earlier behavior replayed in my head. Why hadn’t I put it together sooner? Why was I only now realizing that her nervousness wasn’t about getting caught but about what he was going to do to her if they did?

“Okay, let’s just focus,” Elena said, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Do you know where Bonnie is?” She was already scanning the room like a hawk. “We need to fill her in so she can help us look for Caroline.”

“She left right before you found me.”

“Wait—like, left-left?” Elena asked, spinning back to me, her eyes wide.

I nodded. “Yep. She bailed.”

“Wow.” Elena shook her head, momentarily thrown. “So she’s the one who ditched you.”

I threw up a hand in mock exasperation. “I know, right?” Normally, I would’ve found immense humor in that scenario, but the seriousness of the situation dulled it significantly. “But, to be fair, she said she wasn’t feeling too good.”

I didn’t add that Bonnie had looked more spooked than sick when she’d slipped away. Whatever was bothering her, we didn’t have time to untangle it now.

“I’ll call her later to check in,” Elena said, her lips pressing into a worried line. “But for now, let’s split up to find Caroline. Don’t let on that you know, okay? I don’t want her to bolt on us. Just text me before you approach her.”

“Got it,” I said, already stepping in the opposite direction.

With that, we went our separate ways, combing through the crowd to search. I headed for the northern side of the house, instinctively sticking to areas I knew well. This was by no means my first time at the Lockwood mansion, and I knew just enough about the layout to avoid getting caught as I checked rooms that definitely weren’t open to guests.

Still, every door I opened, every corner I turned, came up empty. No Caroline.

Frustration bubbled under my skin as I pulled out my phone and tried calling her. Straight to voicemail. Of course.

I sent her text—short, casual, something that wouldn’t tip her off if Elena was right about her wanting to hide. But the longer I stared at the lack of response, the more uneasy I felt.

Sure, it could’ve been because she was mad at Elena for finding out. Hell, maybe she already knew Elena had told me. But… no. No, this didn’t feel like a sulking, “don’t talk to me” kind of silence. This felt like something worse.

I descended the stairs slowly, careful not to trip in my heels. My eyes were glued to my feet, but the second a voice called out, my head immediately jerked up.

“What were you doing up there?”

I froze mid-step. But when my gaze locked with familiar dark brown eyes, my pulse eased.

It was just Tyler.

The last person I wanted to run into. Of course, I knew it was inevitable, since this was his house, but that didn’t make it any less annoying. Still, I supposed he was the lesser evil compared to some of the other people who could’ve caught me sneaking around.

I tried to keep my expression neutral, as if it didn’t bother me in the slightest that things between us were rocky—or that there was a yellowing bruise hidden beneath my concealer, courtesy of recent events. But the annoyance continued to bubble up anyway. Now wasn’t the time to deal with him.

When I didn’t answer right away, his brows lifted, smug and suspicious all at once. “You know only the main floor is open for the party,” he said, unmoving at the base of the stairs.

“Thanks for the reminder, hall monitor,” I mumbled to myself. I rolled my eyes as I lifted my chin, continuing my descent slowly, each click of my heels against the polished steps deliberate, louder than necessary.

But as much as I wanted to brush past him, my irritation got the better of me. It was Tyler, after all, and it was nearly impossible not to poke at him when I had the chance.

“Yeah, well, I got bored,” I said flippantly, shrugging a shoulder. “Decided to sneak off and draw mustaches on you and your dad’s old sports trophies.”

Tyler blinked, then a short scoff of laughter escaped him. “God, I forgot about that. We were what, nine?” His head shook, a faint, nostalgic smile tugging at his lips. “We never actually did it, though.”

It hadn’t been my intention for him to bring that up, but now that he did, the memory came rushing in. Sneaking into Richard Lockwood’s office, whispering and giggling as we plotted which trophies would look the most ridiculous with Sharpie additions. It was the first time I’d ever seen a young Tyler so genuinely carefree.

My lips twitched despite myself. “Yeah, because your mom called us to lunch before we even got started. I always wanted to know how long it’d take your dad to notice,” I said mock wistfully. “Would he have exposed himself as a glory-days fanatic immediately? Or would someone have to point it out and embarrass him?”

Tyler’s smile faltered slightly, his expression sobering. “It was dumb. I’m glad we didn’t do it,” he admitted, quieter. “Looking back, my dad would’ve known it was me. He always did. I’d have taken all the blame, even though it was your idea.”

Despite the fact that his tone and expression came off slightly teasing, I couldn’t help but imagine an accusing edge to it. It wasn’t guilt exactly, but I knew something like it pushed me to interpret his words that way. At nine, I hadn’t considered how his dad would react, how the blame would inevitably land on Tyler. I’d just been mad at Richard for yelling so harshly at him over something as trivial as a stupid grade. I hadn’t thought it through, and sure, it hadn’t been my finest idea, but…

Well, I quickly shoved those thoughts aside. Tyler didn’t need to know any of that. And just because he was being all nice and reminiscing now, didn’t mean I forgot everything else.

I crossed my arms and met his gaze with a glare. “Yeah, I know,” I said harshly, my tone a little too pointed, as if that had been my real intention the entire time.

Tyler caught the shift immediately, his stance mirroring mine as his defenses went up. “You’re seriously still gonna be this way?” he asked, exasperation dripping from his voice.

“Yeah, I am,” I snapped.

“Come on, Emery,” he said, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You can’t be mad at me forever. Why don’t we—”

“I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what?”

“None of your business.” I was already brushing past him. But when I saw him reach out for my arm, I huffed and spun around, barely hanging onto my patience. “If you must know, I’m looking for Caroline. And I don’t have time to deal with you right now, okay?”

The mention of Caroline seemed to knock the fight out of him. His brows furrowed, concern flickering across his face. “Caroline? Why?” His gaze darted back up the stairs, clearly piecing together why I’d been up there. “Is everything okay? You don’t exactly go breaking other people’s boundaries unless you’ve got a damn good reason.”

That recognition—him knowing me well enough to figure out something was off—caught me off guard. A flicker of warmth sparked in my chest before I could stop it. It was the kind of thing only someone who actually knew me would say. And considering I didn’t have a long list of people I trusted, it affected me more than I wanted to admit.

But I squashed that feeling the second it appeared, stomping it out with the same self-preservation that had kept me standing. The next words out of my mouth were probably one of the reasons why I’d ended up with so few friends to begin with.

“That’s none of your business either,” I said, hard and unrelenting. Then I added, because I couldn’t help myself, “Why don’t you go back to your date? Oh, wait—Vicki probably ditched you after realizing what a scumbag you are. My bad.”

Immediately, he stiffened, the muscles in his jaw flexing as his expression darkened. “God, you’re such a cold bitch sometimes, you know that?” he snapped, his voice suddenly venomous. “But I guess that’s what you get from someone who didn’t even cry at their parents’ funeral. You just stood there like it didn’t even matter. Like you don’t even feel anything at all.”

The words felt like a slap to the face.

My chest tightened, my breath catching in my throat as the ground beneath me seemed to tilt. My mind blanked for a second, his words echoing over and over in the worst way possible.

Tyler’s face faltered. The hard lines in his expression softened as his eyes widened, like he’d only just realized how far he’d gone. But the damage was already done, and we both knew it.

I straightened slowly, forcing my face into a blank, unreadable mask even as his words tore through me, leaving sharp, ragged edges in their wake. “Wow,” I said, my voice low and icy. “Thanks for the reminder.”

He let out a groan. “Emery, I didn’t—”

“No,” I cut him off before he could try to backpedal. “I don’t have time for this, Tyler. Just—just stay out of my way.”

Without giving him another chance to speak, I turned abruptly and strode away, my heels clicking against the floor in a steady rhythm that sounded far more composed than I felt.

I made it halfway down the hall before my shoulders slumped, my cool countenance starting to wear off, leaving behind an ache in my chest that I couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard I tried.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

By the time we regrouped, Elena was livid. And though I hated seeing her upset, I couldn’t deny the relief of focusing on someone else’s problems instead of the mess in my own head.

“Stefan knew,” she fumed as we stepped outside to check the garden. “He knew and didn’t do anything about it!”

Her heels dangled from her fingers, swinging dangerously close to me as she threw her hands up in anger. We’d ditched our shoes after trudging around for so long, the cool grass now a nice comfort to my sore feet—even if the dew was soaking through my tights and making them cling uncomfortably to my skin.

I cringed at her volume but couldn’t argue with her. Still, some stupid part of me wanted to smooth things over. “Maybe he didn’t know the full extent?” I offered weakly, the words tasting wrong the moment they left my mouth. What the hell was I doing, defending him?

“That doesn’t matter!” Elena snapped, her voice rising another notch. “He let us think Caroline was fine! He knows exactly what Damon’s like, and he still said nothing. How could he—”

“There she is,” I interrupted with a relieved sigh, spotting Caroline near the pond.

“Caroline?” Elena called out, her tone abruptly shifting to something softer. “There you are. We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

We hurried toward her, relief flooding me—until I got a good look at her face.

She stood stiffly by the water, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her entire frame trembling like a brittle leaf caught in a gust of wind.

“Are you okay?” Elena asked.

“I’m fine,” she croaked, her voice barely audible.

“No, you’re not. You’re shaking,” Elena said gently, cautiously stepping closer. “Caroline, what happened?”

“I’m fine!” Caroline suddenly shouted, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face.

But the sharpness didn’t stop my sister. “Caroline, come here, come here.” Elena pulled her into a hug, murmuring soothing words I couldn’t make out.

I stayed frozen where I was, my stomach twisting as my gaze dropped to her shoulder. Beneath the edge of her crochet cover-up, I caught sight of it—a bite mark. The skin around it was dark and bruised, angry and glaring against her pale skin.

I felt sick.

I’d done nothing. I knew Damon was toying with her, knew his attention wasn’t entirely harmless, but I hadn’t said anything. Hadn’t even tried to stop it.

Every conversation I’d ever had with Damon flashed through my mind, every joke we’d shared, every time I thought, Maybe he’s not so bad.

God, I’d even entertained the idea of him being a friend.

And now, staring at the damage he’d done to Caroline, all of that felt like a betrayal.

How had I let myself be so blind? Or worse, had I just chosen not to see it?

“Now you’re catching on.”

The thought slithered through my mind, unbidden and laced with venom.

What kind of monster was Damon Salvatore?

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Chapter Text

Eleven

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I blinked after what felt like an eternity of staring at the glowing red numbers on my alarm clock. 6:20 AM. My brain sluggishly processed the time—forty minutes before my alarm was even set to go off. Groaning, I rolled onto my stomach, yanking the blankets over my head in protest. I still had a good twenty minutes after my alarm before Elena would storm in, inevitably playing the role of my final wake up call.

I shifted, pressing my face into the cool side of the pillow, hoping it might lull me back to sleep, but no such luck. My mind stubbornly refused to cooperate, replaying fragments of restless dreams and thoughts. With a huff, I threw the blankets off and dragged myself out of bed, already annoyed at the fact this marked the fourth morning in a row I’d been unable to sleep properly.

A loud grumble from my stomach provided my next course of action: food. Getting dressed could wait. I shuffled down the hallway, the cool wood floor creaking under my feet. As I passed Jeremy’s door, it slowly cracked open, Vicki tiptoeing out in one of Jeremy’s T-shirts. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights when our eyes met.

Unfazed, and without sparing her another glance, I yawned and mumbled, “Making eggs and bacon if you’re hungry,” before descending the stairs without waiting for a response.

By the time I reached the kitchen, my half-asleep brain was focused entirely on the prospect of food. Laying bacon carefully into a pan, I let the sizzle fill the silence of the house. Jenna appeared a few minutes later, as bright and chipper as a morning person could be. Seriously, what kind of sorcery let her look so put-together this early?

“Good morning, Emery,” she greeted cheerfully, schooling her look of shock as she took in the sight of me up and about again.

I shot her a bleary-eyed glare before yawning again. “Morning. Breakfast?” I offered, gesturing to the pan where eggs were now frying.

“Just coffee for me, thanks,” she replied, already making a beeline for the coffee maker.

I rolled my eyes. Figures. “What’s with everyone in this family and skipping breakfast?” I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.

By the time I sat down at the table with a plate piled high with eggs, bacon, and toast, Elena waltzed into the kitchen, perfectly awake and polished as usual. Her surprise at seeing me already up—without being pestered first— wasn’t as dramatic as it had been the first time, but it was still noticeable.

“Not that I’m not thrilled you’re finally waking up on your own, but what’s going on, Em? This is the fourth morning in a row you’ve beaten me out of bed,” she said, taking a seat across from me.

“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Jenna chimed in, glancing up from her newspaper.

I shrugged, shoving a piece of toast into my mouth to avoid elaborating. “Just haven’t been able to fall back asleep,” I said through a mouthful of crumbs, hoping they’d drop the subject.

My sister cast me a concerned look but let it go, turning her attention to Jenna instead. “Are you aware of what’s going on upstairs?”

Jenna didn’t even glance up from the paper. “Uh-huh,” she replied flatly, reaching over to swipe a piece of my bacon.

I glared at her, but she ignored me, chewing with zero remorse. This was exactly why I bothered offering to cook for people—to protect my own plate of food.

“And you have no objection?” Elena pressed, incredulous.

Jenna sighed, finally setting the paper down. “I mean, he could be craftier about it, at least make an effort to sneak her in and out.” She waved the stolen bacon around for emphasis. “Oh, and just so you know, I won’t be home for dinner.”

The change in subject was so abrupt and obvious, but Elena’s intrigue was more than enough for her to not care. She smirked slyly. “Oh, so you’re actually going to do it. You’re gonna go out with Logan.”

“What!” I exclaimed, accidentally spitting out crumbs. The way Jenna had been acting so hung up on the guy at the Founder’s Party left a bad taste in my mouth, but I wasn’t gonna tell my aunt I thought it wasn’t a good idea to give him another chance.

“I’m going to show up and torture him, yes,” Jenna replied nonchalantly. “And have you heard from Stefan?”

“Not since that very vague message three days ago,” Elena immediately supplied.

Okay, now I was starting to think she really was just falling for Jenna’s obvious subject changes. That was Elena though—never missing an opportunity to talk about herself and her problems.

“‘Hi, um, Elena, I, um, have something I have to do. I’ll, uh, explain in a few days,’” Elena mimicking Stefan’s awkward delivery.

I snorted in amusement, very easily imagining the conversation.

Still, the humor didn’t fully mask my frustration with him. Whatever progress I’d made with Stefan—reluctantly for Elena, that was—felt like it had been yanked out from under me the moment she figured out he’d known about what his brother was doing to Caroline. One reasonable explanation. That’s all it would take for both of us to forgive him. But instead of stepping up, he kept digging himself deeper with secrets—a cardinal sin in Elena’s book.

“Haven’t you called him?” Jenna asked, her tone carefully neutral.

“Nope. Not going to, either,” Elena replied, attempting a facade of indifference that wasn’t fooling anyone.

Jenna raised a skeptical brow. “And you’re okay with everything?”

Elena sighed, her cool exterior cracking just slightly under the weight of her irritation. “No, I’m not okay with any of it. But I’m not going to cry about it, either.” She folded her arms, speaking faster now as she warmed to her rant. “You know, I was going to write in my diary this morning and then I thought, what am I going to write? Honestly, I’m not gonna be one of those pathetic girls whose world stops spinning because of some guy.”

“Okay, then,” Jenna said, raising her coffee mug in surrender once she was sure the rant had run its course.

“I’ll be fine,” Elena added, shrugging with an air of forced casualness as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

As Jenna and I shared a look of skepticism, Elena’s facade of indifference seemed to crack just a little. We quickly looked away from each other, Jenna focusing back on the newspaper while I chewed on another piece of bacon, deciding not to dwell on my sister’s current situation. Despite my early start, the fatigue from another restless night was starting to catch up to me. No need to make my morning harder by diving into Elena’s drama.

With a sigh, I finished my breakfast and rose from the table to go change, steeling myself for the day ahead.

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“The Sexy Suds Car Wash is tomorrow. The football team and the band have committed. Well, not all the band. Just the ones who could pull off the bikini. I want, in-your-face sexy. I mean, it’s a fundraiser, for god’s sake,” Caroline declared, her voice carrying over the din of the hallway as she strutted past me, Bonnie, and Elena. Her squad trailed behind, nodding along like backup singers in a pop anthem.

I couldn’t stop the wave of frustration that washed over me. The casualness with which she talked about the fundraiser felt jarring after everything that had happened at the Founder’s Party. It was like she’d tied up all the abuse with a neat little bow and tossed it into the mental garbage, pretending it didn’t exist.

Bonnie filled us in on her earlier conversation with Caroline. Apparently, the blonde could barely remember what had happened that night—or much else to do with Damon. That little nugget of information didn’t sit well with me. If Caroline couldn’t—or wouldn’t—acknowledge what Damon had done, how were we supposed to?

“She’s unbelievable,” Elena muttered, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “It’s like nothing happened.”

“I told you. Nothing but lies and denial,” Bonnie replied, her voice soft with sympathy, though her expression showed clear disapproval.

As they shared their disbelief, I stayed quiet, caught in my own head. Part of me wanted to take Caroline’s nonchalance as proof it wasn’t as bad as it seemed. But the sick feeling in my stomach wouldn’t let me. The thing was, Caroline hadn’t even told her mom because she didn’t want it “blown out of proportion.” So what was I supposed to do? It wasn’t like Caroline and I were best friends or anything. If anyone was going to push the issue to Liz, it would have to be Elena or Bonnie.

That didn’t stop the guilt from following me around like a shadow. I told myself over and over again that it wasn’t my responsibility, but my restless nights weren’t buying it.

“Hey,” a quiet voice broke through my thoughts.

We turned to find Stefan standing there, looking uncomfortable and hesitant. The vibe instantly grew tense and awkward

“Heeyyy,” Bonnie greeted hesitantly, glancing between him and Elena. It didn’t take long for her to decide she wanted no part of this conversation. “You know, I gotta go… be somewhere right now.” She offered a weak smile before slipping away.

Unlike Bonnie, I held my ground, crossing my arms and fixing Stefan with a pointed look. The way he glanced at me—almost pleading—told me he wanted privacy with Elena, but I wasn’t about to give him that luxury. “Uh, yeah, no. If you want to talk to my sister, you can do it with me standing right here.”

Elena tilted her head down, her hair curtaining her face, but I caught the small twitch of her lips and knew she appreciated the backup.

Stefan sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I’m so sorry I haven’t called.” His apology fell flat against the backdrop of our strained silence.

“No worries. I’ll live,” Elena replied coolly and detached. Her walls were firmly up, and I could tell she wasn’t letting them down anytime soon.

Pride swelled in my chest as I watched her face him head-on. No tears, no pleading, just the quiet strength of someone who knew their worth. Stefan’s tiny flinch didn’t escape my notice, either, I wasn’t above enjoying it.

“I was dealing with Damon,” he said slowly, like that was supposed to mean something. Spoiler alert: it didn’t. If anything, it only added fuel to the fire. Back to the vague half-truths Elena hated so much.

I leveled him with a pointed glare. “Care to enlighten us as to what that actually means, or are we just supposed to fill in the blanks with our imaginations?”

Elena shook her head. “So you dealt with him, then. For four days?” she gibed, clearly expressing her skepticism.

“You have every right to be upset with me. I can explain it all to you. Please.” Stefan’s deep green eyes peered at her imploringly.

Elena sighed, and I could already tell she wasn’t going to pass it up. That was all she ever wanted—an explanation. “Sure. When?”

“I’ve got to be home after school, but how about The Grill? Four o’clock?”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“Thanks.” Stefan flashed her a relieved smile, one I could see she was trying not to be completely charmed by.

Well, she tried at least…

Out of nowhere, Caroline appeared again, barging into the conversation. “Stefan! Where is Damon? He has some serious apologizing to do.”

I wanted to shake her after hearing that. Apologize? Really? That’s it?

“He’s gone, Caroline,” Stefan answered seriously, his face suddenly somber. I frown at the new information.

Caroline smiled through her confusion, not catching onto his attitude. “Well, when is he coming back?”

“He’s not coming back. I’m sorry.” Stefan brushed passed her—practically running away if you ask me.

His brief explanation left me uneasy. “Dealing with Damon,” “he’s gone,” “not coming back”? It all sounded vague and evasive. He better have some good answers for Elena later because, right now, he was only digging himself a bigger hole in my book.

As Elena stayed to comfort a still-clueless Caroline, I made a split-second decision and followed Stefan.

His eyes widened just a fraction when I stepped right into his path, cutting off his stride.

“Just so we’re clear, Stefan,” I said, voice firm. “Whatever lies you decide to spin for my sister? They’ll get back to me. You might think you can sidestep this whole Damon mess, but even if Elena buys whatever you’re selling, you’ve still got me to deal with. And I’m a much tougher audience.” I held his gaze, making sure he knew I wasn’t just throwing out empty words.

Truthfully, I’d never stand in the way of Elena’s choices—her life, her decision. But if I had to make him squirm a little to drive the point home? I wasn’t above it.

With one last pointed look, I turned on my heel and made my way back to Elena, leaving Stefan to stew in my not-so-subtle warning.

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The English classroom buzzed with the usual pre-class chatter as I strolled in, fashionably late. Not by choice, mind you—as I usually arrived early to snag the front row window seat—but my physics teacher had cornered me to express his deep, heartfelt disappointment in my latest test score. I nodded along, offering the occasional “mmhmm” while internally filing the conversation under Things I Will Absolutely Not Be Stressing Over. I had a strategic plan to pass his class: aim for a C+, maybe scrape a B if the stars aligned. No need to overachieve.

Scanning the room, my stomach promptly sank to my shoes as I spotted the only available seat—right next to Stefan Salvatore.

Oh, come on.

It was like the universe saw me giving my big dramatic don’t mess with my sister speech and decided, Let’s make this extra awkward. I sighed, accepting my fate. Stefan clearly noticed our predicament too—his expression was perfectly pleasant, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed his discomfort. Without a word, I dropped into the seat beside him, pretending we were two strangers forced into proximity by cruel, uncaring first come, first serve seating arrangements.

The bell rang, and Mrs. Adams dove straight into the lesson. Our first common core novel of the year—to my immense luck—was The Great Gatsby. I’d already read it over the summer (along with a few other contenders, because while I slacked in STEM, the humanities were a different story). Not that I was thrilled about it—I wasn’t exactly itching to spend weeks analyzing Gatsby’s self-inflicted misery.

I crossed my fingers under the desk, praying we wouldn’t have to do partner discussions today.

The gods laughed in my face.

“Alright, everyone! Turn to the person next to you and discuss your thoughts on the novel so far. Consider themes, characters, and any symbolism you’ve noticed,” Mrs. Adams announced cheerily with a clap of her hands.

I flicked a glance at Stefan. He flicked a glance at me. We both shared a moment of mutual suffering.

Fantastic.

I begrudgingly flipped through my English journal, barely registering the words. My brain was too busy cringing at the fact that I had to work with the same guy I’d just lectured like some overprotective sitcom dad—which, now that I thought about it, was exactly something our dad would do. Awesome. Not only had I turned into him, but I wasn’t even given a full 24 hours for my dramatic exit to marinate before being shoved into forced academic bonding.

Honestly, I hoped Dad would at least be proud of me.

“Looks like we’re discussion partners today, Emery,” Stefan said, ever the Captain Obvious.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “Lucky me.”

He sighed. “I get it. You’re not a fan.”

I almost asked, Of you, or the book? but bit my tongue.

“I know I’m probably the last person you want to work with right now,” he continued, because apparently, we were acknowledging the awkwardness head-on. “But, for the sake of your English grade, do you think we can call a truce for the next hour?”

I tapped my pen against my journal, considering possible terms for this so-called academic truce. Strictly business. No personal grievances. No sarcasm.

…Okay, maybe a little sarcasm.

But then his phrasing finally clicked and my head snapped up. “For my grade?” I raised an eyebrow. “Wow, no concern for your own academic standing? Just mine?”

Stefan blinked, clearly taken aback by how fast I twisted that around on him. “That… was poor wording,” he admitted quickly, backpedaling like a pro. “It would be to both our benefit to discuss the book—for the grade and to keep Mrs. Adams off our backs.” His eyes flicked toward our teacher, who was currently prowling the aisles, leaning over desks to eavesdrop on student discussions.

Unfortunately for Stefan, I wasn’t feeling particularly merciful. “I don’t know,” I said, tapping my chin in mock deliberation. “I’m feeling a little insulted by your assumption of my intelligence. I’ll have you know, I’m a straight-A student in all the humanities.”

His brows shot up, eyes widening slightly like I had just confessed to a double life. “Really?” he blurted before immediately grimacing. “Okay, maybe I did assume a little,” he admitted sheepishly. “You just always seem… disinterested at school. I never see you participate in class—in English or history. You’re usually doodling in your notebook.”

Huh. Hadn’t realized he was paying that much attention. Any time I happened to glance at him in class, his eyes were glued to the teacher, the textbook, or—let’s be real—Elena.

Shrugging, I tried to play off the mild embarrassment of being called out. “Let’s get one thing straight. Just because I’m not flailing my hand in the air like an over-caffeinated Hermione Granger doesn’t mean I’m not paying attention. And doodling helps me think.”

Stefan nodded, like he was recalibrating his whole perception of me. “Fair enough. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions,” he said earnestly. Then, after a pause, he added, “Though, honestly, I wasn’t trying to insult you. I just… I’ve already read The Great Gatsby. A few times—actually. It’s one of my favorite books, so I guess I’m feeling a little more… confident about this part of the curriculum.”

He fidgeted with the edges of his book—the worn spine, the yellowed pages, the undeniable this-is-my-personal-copy-because-I’m-a-pretentious-nerd look of it. His gaze flickered to the desk then, his sudden bashfulness disarming. For a second, I almost—almost—felt bad for poking fun.

I shook my head with a sharp laugh. “You would like it, huh? A bunch of rich people throwing extravagant parties and being miserable.”

To his everlasting credit, Stefan didn’t take offense. Instead, his lips quirked into a crooked smile, and for a second I almost expected him to blush. “It’s a classic. Fitzgerald’s prose is just… mesmerizing. The way he captures the Jazz Age, the themes of love, wealth, and the American Dream—it’s compelling.”

I blinked. Okay, literature boy. Hadn’t expected him to get that passionate about it. For a brief, fleeting moment, I felt a flicker of real interest, wondering what it would be like if he was always this authentic instead of constantly tangled in his cryptic will-the-real-Stefan-please-stand-up routine. Maybe then he wouldn’t be in this never-ending dance with Elena.

“Well,” I began hesitantly, “I guess I’m guilty of assumptions too. Didn’t peg you as the literary type—especially after finding out you play football. But now that I think about it, your brooding attitude should’ve given it away.” I smirked. “It’s very Brontë meets Dostoevsky, with just a hint of Camus to keep things existentially depressing.”

Stefan blinked, visibly caught off guard again. His lips parted slightly, but then he just… stared at me for a beat too long, like he was trying to decide if I was messing with him. “You actually read their books?”

I raised an eyebrow. “No, I just flipped through the SparkNotes and prayed for the best.” I rolled my eyes. “Of course I read them. What, did you think I just name-dropped them to sound smart?”

He let out a weird mix of a cringe and a huff, shaking his head. “No, no. Sorry, I’m assuming again, huh?” His smile turned wry as he looked down at his book. “Although, I’d like to believe I have at least some joy left in me. So maybe a little less Camus and more Dickens… or even Hugo.”

I squinted, trying to connect the dots. I’d only read Les Misérables and A Tale of Two Cities, though, so I wasn’t sure if I was missing some deeper meaning. But before I could ask, he was already talking again.

Stefan chuckled in an almost self-depreciating way. “But you’re not wrong. I guess I don’t exactly fit the jock stereotype. I’ve always had a thing for literature. It’s a nice escape from… everything else.”

I studied him for a second, mulling over our shared perspective there. Reading books—it could often be a means of escape. A way to step into another world when your own felt… off.

“Yeah.” I reluctantly nodded. “Sometimes books can transport you to a whole different world.” It was the same way I felt about my art.

His smile softened, and—ugh—I couldn’t even deny that the tension between us was starting to ease.

“So,” he drawled, “why don’t we start with character analysis? What’s your take on Gatsby?”

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t have an answer—oh, I had plenty—but because, for some reason, I actually wanted to give him an honest one instead of my usual sarcastic quip.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Mrs. Adams creeping closer to our side of the classroom, her sharp gaze scanning for any hint of slacking. Time to focus… or at least make it look like I was.

With a sigh, I made up my mind. “He’s just a shallow guy who can’t let go of the past, and it leads him to make terrible decisions that ultimately get him killed. Pathetic, really.”

Stefan’s lips twitched , but whether it was going to be a frown or a grin, I couldn’t tell. Though instead of arguing adamantly, he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like we were sharing some big secret. “But isn’t there something convincing about his unwavering belief in the possibility of a better future?”

I squinted at him. “More like unhinged,” I countered. “The way he goes about it is so creepy. I bet he’d be the type to leave cryptic voicemails at 2 AM and stalk his ex on social media just to see if she still talks about him.”

Stefan huffed out a laugh. “You have a unique way of interpreting it, Emery.”

I smirked, tapping my pen against the desk again. “Hey now, don’t tell me you’re a Gatsby apologist. The guy’s basically a criminal with too much money and not enough common sense.”

He raised his hands in surrender, but the playful gleam in his eyes betrayed him. “Just playing devil’s advocate. Honestly, though, I think it’s more that I sympathize with Gatsby’s loneliness—and his failure to find acceptance in a world he desperately wants to belong to. And… I guess I pity him too, for how he let the purity of his first love morph into something unhealthy and obsessive.”

And cue the brooding stare. There it was. That word—rebound—echoed in my mind, dragging with it the insecurity Elena had vented about when she first started dating him. Suddenly, Stefan’s whole moody, wistful, tragic past energy made a lot more sense. But I wasn’t about to sit through his TED Talk on Heartbreak and Regret—I’d rather listen to paint dry.

“Hence the creep part,” I said, steering the conversation far away from anything personal. “Daisy’s not even worth the trouble—something Gatsby would’ve figured out if he hadn’t built her up into this unattainable fantasy. She’s basically a walking vision board of his delusions. Not even real Daisy could live up to the version he created in his head.”

Stefan crossed his arms, his expression settling into that I’m-about-to-say-something-profound look. “But his pursuit of Daisy represents something deeper,” he mused. “A longing for a past that never truly existed, maybe, but it also shows that side of him that cares—genuinely cares—about the people he loves. He’s willing to protect and make sacrifices for them, even if it costs him everything.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Romeo, let’s not get carried away with the tragic love story angle. Gatsby was just another guy chasing a green light.” I tossed in the book’s most famous symbol, because if Stefan was going to wax poetic, I might as well meet him halfway.

He shot me an amused side-eye, catching exactly what I did there. But this time, when he laughed, I could’ve sworn I heard a bitter edge creeping in.

“Perhaps,” he murmured, gaze flickering forward to something distant—definitely not Mrs. Adams still prowling around the room. “But isn’t that what we all do in our own way? Chase after something unattainable, hoping to find meaning in the pursuit?” He exhaled softly. “Gatsby is flawed, and his story is tragic, sure… but there’s something surprisingly relatable about it.”

I stared at him for a beat, then slowly shook my head. “Tragic? He willingly chases after a woman—a life—that doesn’t want him. That’s not tragic, that’s embarrassing.”

“Most would say that’s the essence of the novel. The allure of the unattainable. The disillusionment of the American Dream.”

I snorted. “Sounds like a load of pretentious nonsense wrapped in a sparkly bow.”

He shook his head, smile amused. “It is a little pretentious, isn’t? But I find Fitzgerald’s prose captivating. The way he encapsulates the excesses and emptiness of the roaring twenties—it’s almost poetic.”

I shrugged, unwilling to give him too much credit. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll admit the aesthetic is cool,” I said begrudgingly. “Which is ironic, considering the book is one long PSA about not valuing materialism and superficial things—or relationships.” I scoffed out a laugh. “For an English class? Sure, it’s good for practicing literary analysis. But I still don’t get why everyone’s so obsessed with it.”

A thoughtful gleam appeared in his eyes as he leaned back in his chair. “Maybe people love it because it reflects a truth about human nature that we can all relate to—the longing for love, for acceptance, for a place in the world… even if it’s all just an illusion.”

I tilted my head, watching him. That hit a little too close to home, and suddenly, I remembered our conversation on the bleachers. The one where we accidentally connected over feeling out of place.

“Well,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “humans are walking contradictions. Fallible, messy. Life isn’t black and white—good and evil, right and wrong. It’s all just varying shades of gray.” I gestured vaguely. “How we judge Gatsby—or the book itself—depends on how we see those shades. On our own realities. Can’t fault someone too much for looking at it differently than I do.”

Stefan’s gaze flicked to mine, something unspoken passing between us. And for a second—just a second—it felt like we both knew we weren’t just talking about Fitzgerald anymore.

Absolutely not.

I was not about to have an existential moment with Stefan Salvatore over The Great Gatsby.

I shook off the thought, opting instead for my preferred method of emotional avoidance. “Or, you know, maybe people just like the drama. Tragedy sells.”

And with that, I effectively broke whatever imagined connection was there as Stefan looked away, grinning with a relenting shrug of his shoulders. “Well, you’re not wrong there.”

Before we could veer off into another deep dive, I caught sight of Mrs. Adams heading our way, clipboard in hand, radiating the unmistakable aura of look engaged or face the consequences.

I instantly pivoted. “Anyway, the green light,” I announced, loud enough to be overheard. “Symbolism. Hope. Unattainable dreams. Very profound.”

Stefan, ever the perceptive one, picked up the cue effortlessly, adding just enough analysis to make us sound like two very studious, very focused individuals. Mrs. Adams gave us an approving nod and kept walking.

We exchanged a brief, knowing glance—the kind that said, Yeah, we nailed that.

The rest of class went by in a similar fashion, and, aggravatingly, I had to admit that talking books with Stefan Salvatore had been… not the worst thing I’d ever done.

When the bell rang, we gathered our things, and Stefan turned to me with a small smile. “Thanks, Emery. For the discussion. It was… interesting.”

I arched an eyebrow at him, but I couldn’t quite stop the reluctant smile that tugged at my lips. “It wasn’t terrible.”

He chuckled, the sound soft and almost warm, the tension between us dissipating further. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Rolling my eyes, I slung my bag over my shoulder. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Salvatore. The hour’s over, and so is the truce.”

His grin widened. “Fair enough.”

As I walked away, I couldn’t shake the lingering surprise at how much I’d actually enjoyed the discussion—Stefan was almost annoyingly fun to argue with. There was something about the way he spoke—earnest, thoughtful, passionate—that made me wonder if there was more to him than I’d assumed.

But that didn’t mean I was ready to forgive him for what he’d put my sister through.

Not yet, anyway.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

I stayed in the art room well past dinner. Sonia, thankfully, had a mountain of grading to finish, so she didn’t mind me sticking around late. Jeremy—oh-so-thoughtful and annoyingly sweet—had already warned me of his grand scheme for the evening. He’d invited Stefan into our home to surprise Elena with dinner and to—supposedly—make amends. For all the times Jeremy could be an insufferable brat, he could also be so considerately sweet it almost made me gag.

But then again, that was Mom in him. She used to go out of her way to do things like this all the time. Small gestures to help people patch things up—Elena and I heavily included. And honestly? It made me proud of Jeremy. Even if it did ruin my night.

The last thing I wanted was to sit at home as that dinner unfolded. But I supposed this was still the better outcome. At least if they work things out, I wouldn’t have to endure Elena’s in-person rant—just the endless text notifications I’d been getting since their disastrous meetup at The Grill.

Apparently, Stefan had flaked on her. More lies, more excuses, more vague non-answers. Was it really so hard for him to just tell the truth and stop holding everything back? And to think—I’d actually been starting to warm up to him after our discussion in English today.

It was infuriating. If things didn’t change, I wasn’t sure I had it in me to keep supporting their relationship. But knowing my sister, this might be the final straw for her, too. Honestly, their relationship took an alarming amount of effort to even work, it seemed. How could anyone want to put up with that? If it were me, I’d have thrown in the towel a long time ago. Romantic relationships were just… unnecessarily complicated.

I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn’t notice Sonia had come up behind me until she spoke.

“So, what has you here so late this time? Hiding from your sister again?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I am not hiding,” I said defensively, affronted.

“Mhmm.”

“I’m not,” I repeated, glaring as I swiped a random blue stroke across my canvas. “I just figured it’d be safer for their relationship if I stayed out of the vicinity.” I shrugged.

See? That wasn’t hiding. That was being considerate.

There was the screech of a stool sliding across the floor. I glanced over to see Sonia settling next to me, her legs folded beneath her long green-and-gray paisley skirt. She stared at me with that quiet, patient look of hers.

“Alright,” she said after a moment. “What is it this time?”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation and dropped my brush into the water cup.That stupid smirk of hers appeared immediately, and I could already hear her silent gotcha.

I let out a dramatic sigh. “What could a seventeen-year-old boy possibly have going on in his life that makes him so secretive?” I said, the words spilling out faster than I could stop them. “He dodges every single question about himself, but somehow still manages to seem… I don’t know, genuine? Like he’s actually trying to build relationships, even though he keeps holding everything back?”

As soon as I finished, I internally winced. Wow, Emery, obsessed much? But this wasn’t about me. Not really, anyway. This was about Elena. She was the one constantly getting hurt. I was just here, trying to make sense of the mess.

Sonia leaned back against the table, crossing her arms, her expression bordering on far too entertained for my liking. She didn’t even need to say it—I could feel the I-see-right-through-you energy radiating off her.

“Let me guess,” she mused, tapping her chin as if this required deep thought. “This is about your sister’s boyfriend?”

I rolled my eyes again. Obviously. But before I could answer, she continued.

“This is all speculation, of course—I’ve never met the boy—but often, people keep secrets to maintain the peace.”

I scoffed. “I mean, yeah,” I admitted, tilting my head in reluctant agreement. “I’ve lied to my sister plenty for that reason alone.”

And, okay, not my proudest trait, but in my defense, sometimes it was just easier to smooth things over with a little white lie when my twin had a knack for blowing things out of proportion.

“But the thing is, despite clearly wanting to be with her, he keeps deflecting or giving her these lame excuses when she asks him to open up. How is that ‘maintaining the peace’ when it’s actively making her more upset? He’s pushing her away while saying he’s trying to pull her closer. That’s not just frustrating—it’s infuriating.”

Sonia gave me that small, sympathetic smile—the one she reserved for moments when she was about to drop some sage wisdom that I both needed and absolutely did not want to hear.

“Relationships are tricky, especially at your age,” she said in that calm, all-knowing way of hers. “People are still figuring themselves out, and sometimes they carry baggage or secrets they’re not ready to share. It doesn’t necessarily mean he’s trying to hurt her—or anyone, for that matter. Maybe he just isn’t ready to face whatever it is he’s hiding.”

I frowned, absentmindedly picking at the dried paint on my fingers. “But it’s affecting Elena,” I said, frustrated. “And I hate seeing her like this. She deserves better than someone who shuts down the second she tries to reach him. I mean, if she wanted to date a brick wall, she could’ve just stuck to the literal ones.”

“There’s always the possibility he feels the same way,” Sonia mused, ever the voice of reason. “He could be holding back—consciously or subconsciously—thinking it’s for her own good. But the more you lie, even if it’s for selfless reasons, the easier it becomes to justify the ones that aren’t. And soon enough, lying just… becomes second nature.”

Sonia paused, her gaze dropping to her hands, fingers loosely laced in her lap. She looked uncharacteristically pensive, like she was trying to untangle a thought before speaking it aloud.

“My guess,” she finally said, her voice carrying something heavier than just casual insight, “is that this boy has been lying for so long—telling himself it’s to protect others, maybe even to protect himself—that he’s lost touch with who he really is. The more he hides behind those lies, the harder it gets to face the truth. And that just feeds the part of him that doesn’t have the self-respect or self-love to admit the flaws he’s burying. Eventually, the lies stop feeling like lies and just… become his reality. He’s stuck living as the person he’s pretending to be—a people pleaser, constantly trying to make others happy, yet growing more miserable and distant with every passing day.”

Her words were quiet but cut deep, laced with something that sounded eerily like a confession. And suddenly, I was looking at Sonia through a different lens.

It made me pause.

I wasn’t sure how to approach it, whether to push or let it slide. Sonia rarely talked about her life outside of school. I didn’t even know if she wanted me to pry. And if I was being honest, I wasn’t sure I wanted to open that door either.

Before I could decide, she straightened and shook off whatever had briefly taken hold of her, flashing me a more familiar, easygoing smile—like she’d hit the reset button on the conversation.

“But that’s just my take on it,” she said lightly, adding a small shrug for good measure. “I could be completely off the mark. Everyone’s different, and no two situations are exactly alike. Still, it doesn’t hurt to have some perspective ahead of time. Ultimately, if Elena’s boyfriend really wants to be with her, it’s up to him to be honest about the secrets he’s holding and the why behind it.”

I nodded slowly, but doubt lingered at the back of my mind. “And if he doesn’t?”

Sonia’s gaze flickered toward the floor, just for a beat. “If he doesn’t, then it’s a sign he’s not ready for the kind of relationship Elena deserves. It wouldn’t be fair to her otherwise. And if that’s the case, it’s up to her to decide whether she’s willing to accept that—or if she’s better off walking away.” Leaning in conspiratorially, she added, “But between you and me? I’d bet my best paintbrush it’d be a very unhealthy relationship.”

I shook my head with a little huff. “Elena’s all about honesty and being upfront. She wouldn’t drag out something like this—especially if he’s not even showing any signs of trying to change.”

“Change is a process. It requires effort and a genuine desire to do so,” Sonia replied. “If he truly cares about Elena, he needs to be willing to take those steps—confronting whatever fears or issues that are holding him back. It’s not an easy road, but it’s necessary for both personal growth and the growth of a relationship.”

I tapped my fingers on my knee, marveling at how uncanny it was, the way Sonia could lay out something that I’d been fumbling with in my head, something I thought I already knew, in a more digestible way. It was like she had a built-in thesaurus for empathy.

“In the end,” Sonia continued, giving me a pointed look, “it’s not your responsibility to fix their relationship. You can support Elena and give advice, but the decisions are hers to make. Just be there for her, remind her of her worth, and encourage her to communicate openly. That’s all you can do.”

I frowned, twisting the ring on my finger. “You’re right, as always. I just…”

“Yes?” Sonia prodded gently after I trailed off.

My eyes drifted to my half-finished landscape on the easel. “There’s something about Stefan that feels… off. I don’t know what it is, but if things somehow work out tonight, I can’t shake the feeling their relationship’s going to be a total hot mess—and I’ll be the one left cleaning up after it.”

Sonia let out an amused laugh that completely shattered the serious vibe I’d tried to maintain. I turned to glare at her, but she only raised an eyebrow, teasing, “I thought you didn’t believe in intuition.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’ve never said that. I just said intuition isn’t some magical, woo-woo force like you always make it sound.”

“Oh, of course, that’s exactly how I describe it,” she deadpanned, sighing with mock exasperation, before turning serious. “Sometimes, intuition taps into things our rational minds can’t. But it needs to be balanced with critical thinking. Trust your instincts, Emery—just don’t let them completely override reason. And yes, you’re right—it’s as much a skill as it is a gift. You need to hone it to make it reliable.”

I waved her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. I’ll add ‘intuition honing’ to my never-ending to-do list. Right between ‘fix my sleep schedule’ and ‘pretend to care about physics.’” I shook my head. “I’m sure it’s just me being overly protective as always.”

Sonia nodded, her lips twitching in amusement. “Yes, you can be over-bearing at times.”

“Hey!” I shot her a mock-offended look. “I prefer the term ‘aggressively supportive.’”

She merely smirked as she stood. “Call it whatever you want, but it’s getting late. Do you need a ride home?”

I smiled sheepishly. “Uh, yeah, actually. Please. Elena was supposed to pick me up, but I don’t want to interrupt her date. And, y’know, I’m not really feeling up for a nighttime horror movie stroll—especially with all the ‘wild animal’ attacks. Even if they did claim to catch it.”

Sonia’s brows furrowed slightly. “Yes… best not to be out alone at night.” Then, fixing me with a serious look, she added, “Feel free to call me if you ever need a ride, alright? No matter how late.”

Her intensity threw me off a little, but I nodded anyway. “Thanks. I will.”

I brushed it off as she waited patiently for me to finish cleaning up my brushes and paints. By the time we reached my house, I was practically asleep on my feet, beyond ready to faceplant into my pillow and not move for the next eight hours.

But, of course, fate (and by fate, I meant Elena) had other plans.

I had just settled under my blankets, letting the sweet embrace of sleep take me, when my door burst open like a SWAT team raid.

“Elena—” I groaned, barely cracking an eye open.

She either didn’t hear me or didn’t care, because she bounced onto the foot of my bed like an overexcited golden retriever, her grin practically splitting her face. “Em! It was perfect.”

I barely resisted the urge to shove a pillow over my face. Instead, I sighed and propped myself up on my elbows. “Is this a ‘tell me in the morning’ kind of perfect, or am I about to get the full rom-com recap?”

Ignoring my very obvious exhaustion, Elena launched into the details of her night with Stefan—how he finally opened up about his ex (whose name I still couldn’t remember, despite multiple mentions), how they talked about their favorite books and movies and hobbies—and, most offensively, how he was apparently an amazing cook. “Even better than you,” she joked.

I squinted at her. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Elena just grinned, completely undeterred, before diving right back into her love story.

I listened, trying to muster enthusiasm. It wasn’t that I didn’t care—I did—but something about her perfect, fairy-tale night didn’t sit right with me.

Stefan had been distant and dodgy for weeks, and now, suddenly, everything was fixed? No one unravels all their issues over one candlelit dinner. And yet, Elena was over the moon, completely convinced their problems were behind them.

There was also one very glaring omission: Damon. The whole reason things started falling apart in the first place. And yet, not a single mention of him.

But Elena was happy. She needed this, deserved this moment of bliss. And who was I to ruin it?

So I shoved down my unease, sat up a little more, and forced myself to look interested as she chattered on for the next hour. Because if this really was the calm before the inevitable storm, I wanted her to enjoy it while she could.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

I sighed for what felt like the millionth time, refilling another bucket of soapy water. The midday sun beat down relentlessly, making the entire car wash feel like some cruel punishment instead of a fundraiser. Still, I grabbed another towel and trudged over to the second car of the day.

At least I wasn’t suffering alone. Bonnie, Matt, and I had grouped together to make this tedious task a little more bearable. Marginally, I thought dryly as I eyed the streaks on the first car we’d washed a few spaces away. Let’s just say none of us would be pursuing careers in auto detailing anytime soon. But guilt would’ve eaten me alive if I hadn’t helped. The fundraiser wasn’t just for the athletic department—it was also raising money for Mr. Tanner’s family after his recent death.

Now, I wasn’t Mr. Tanner’s biggest fan (to put it nicely), but even I could admit his loss hit the community hard—especially and more importantly, Matt, who was doing better but also hadn’t wanted to talk about it further—and I could recognize the importance of stepping up for a good cause. Plus, with my goal of joining track again in the spring, I felt obligated to do my part. And let’s be real—if I didn’t, Caroline Forbes would’ve hunted me down and badgered me into submission. Better to suffer on my own terms.

Speaking of suffering, I was starting to get a little miffed that Elena and Stefan still hadn’t shown up yet. If I had to endure this, there was no way they were getting out of it. Not to mention, I fully planned to shove my sponge and bucket into their hands the second they arrived.

“Emery,” came Caroline’s unmistakably exasperated voice behind me.

Oh, here we go.

I turned slowly, already bracing myself. Sure enough, there she was—decked out in a string bikini and unbuttoned denim shorts, looking like the poster girl for a spring break catalog. Her judgmental eyes scanned my outfit as though I’d committed a crime against humanity.

“What,” I deadpanned.

Caroline huffed, flicking her soapy sponge in my general direction. “Sexy. Suds. Emery,” she enunciated like I was slow to grasp the concept. “That’s the theme. And that—” she waved her hand over my body like she was showcasing a disaster site, “is not giving sexy.”

I glanced down at my outfit—high-waisted black jean shorts and an oversized Green Day band tee, knotted at the waist in a half-hearted attempt to appease Caroline’s inevitable judgment. (She no doubt thought I looked like a “wannabe punk mom,” but I wasn’t wearing some low-rise denim monstrosity with my body shape.) My swimsuit was underneath, sure, but there was no way in hell I was baring it unless there was a possibility of someone shoving me into a pool.

The fundraiser’s name—Sexy Suds—was questionable and demeaning enough on its own. Who thought this was a good idea for high schoolers? Honestly, the whole thing felt one step away from a lawsuit.

I blinked at her, unimpressed. “Oh, my bad. I must’ve missed the part where this fundraiser turned into an audition for Girls Gone Wild.”

Bonnie snorted into her towel, but quickly turned it into a cough when Caroline shot her a sharp look.

Choosing to ignore me, Caroline zeroed in on my shirt, plucking at the hem like I was some sort of fashion disaster she was being forced to rehabilitate. “I told you to wear something cuter,” she said, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I told you I wasn’t about to prance around in a bikini while scrubbing strangers’ tires,” I shot back, yanking my shirt out of her grasp. “It’s a car wash, Caroline. Not a Victoria’s Secret runway.” Besides, my shorts made my ass look amazing. She should’ve been thanking me for at least showing some skin.

The blonde let out a long, suffering sigh, like I had personally disappointed her on a deep, spiritual level. “Emery, we are charming people into donating. Flirting for the cause. A little effort wouldn’t kill you.”

I arched a brow. “Oh, so now we’re grifting people with implied nudity? Cool, cool. Just checking we’re all on the same page.”

She squared her shoulders, planting her hands on her hips like she was gearing up for a battle she had no intention of losing. I stared her down, but then a thought occurred to me—one that made my lips curve into a slow, saccharine smile.

“Oh, Caroline,” I crooned sweetly. “Remember that favor you owe me…?”

Her eyes narrowed instantly. She wasn’t stupid—she knew exactly where this was going.

“Ugh, you are so impossible,” she groaned, throwing her hands up in exasperation. “Fine. Be the oddball. Whatever. Just don’t come crying to me when you’re voted ‘Least Sexy Sud.’”

“Cool, thanks for the heads-up,” I replied, grinning as she rolled her eyes and stomped off to harass someone else.

Easy win.

Matt chuckled as he came up beside me, leaning against the sedan with that knowing look. “Looks like that favor came in handy after all.”

“Obviously. Told you it was worth it.” I tossed my towel over my shoulder with mock pride. “I dodged the guilt trip and kept my dignity intact. That’s a win-win.”

Matt shook his head, still laughing, while Bonnie released a snort from the other side of the car. “You two are ridiculous,” she muttered, but the small smirk tugging at her lips gave her away.

Successfully avoiding Caroline’s makeover agenda had improved my mood significantly. The day felt a little less torturous now—especially when I slapped my wet towel against the sedan’s hood with an unnecessary flourish, earning another laugh from Matt.

We were just finishing up when Bonnie spoke up with her best no-nonsense voice. “Uh-uh, no. None of that tortured pining stuff.”

I looked up, confused, before following her pointed glare to Matt, who had been drying off the car roof but was now suspiciously still, eyes locked on something across the lot.

“I’m just observing,” he said quickly, trying to look innocent.

“Mm-hmm,” Bonnie replied, giving him the full skeptical brow treatment.

Naturally, I had to see what had Matt making sad puppy eyes. It took me all of two seconds to spot the source: a few yards away, my twin was in the middle of what could only be described as a full-blown wrestling match with her own shirt.

The stubborn fabric had gotten stuck over her head, and her flailing arms made it look like she was losing in spectacular fashion. Enter Stefan, who swooped in to the rescue, gently tugging the fabric free, all smooth and gallant, like some medieval knight saving a damsel from the tragic fate of public suffocation. Elena beamed up at him, all heart eyes and glowing admiration, while he smiled back like she’d hung the moon.

I groaned, dragging a hand down my face. “And they say I’m the challenged twin…”

My commentary was cut short by a shriek from somewhere behind me. I turned just in time to witness one of the cheerleaders, Tiki, drenched from head to toe as her bucket of water exploded in her face. To make it better, she was still flailing the hose around like an idiot, soaking everything in her immediate vicinity.

Matt, ever the gentleman, rushed over to help her turn off the hose, laughing the whole way. “Wet and wild, Tiki,” he teased, while I doubled over, cackling. The sheer betrayal on her face? Priceless. What did she expect? This was a car wash—getting wet was kind of in the job description.

With the sedan we’d been working on now dried and ready to go, I decided I’d officially had enough of this nonsense. Boredom hit me like a wave, and with Elena and Stefan conveniently occupied with their own car—foiling my very reasonable plans to pawn all the work off on them—there didn’t seem to be much of a reason to stick around.

Besides, my brilliant scheme to “accidentally” spray Stefan with the hose was officially dead in the water. A true loss for the art of petty revenge. Oh well. Sometimes you win, sometimes you get stuck scrubbing some random guy’s car in the blazing heat.

Well, until you quit.

“Okay, I’m done. See you guys later,” I announced, throwing down the towel. Literally.

Bonnie blinked at me like I’d just spoken in tongues. Matt, meanwhile, looked completely unfazed—probably more shocked that I’d lasted this long in the first place.

“But we’ve only washed two cars,” Bonnie pointed out, voice laced with judgment.

“I know, right? Good job, team!” I flashed them both two overly enthusiastic thumbs-ups as I took a slow step backward.

Bonnie’s unimpressed stare could’ve melted steel.

“Hey, I finished my quota,” I reasoned with a grin, now taking another step back, just in case she decided to weaponize that soapy sponge she was holding. “It’s about quality over quantity. You’ll thank me later.”

Matt just chuckled, shaking his head. “See ya, Em.”

“You know Caroline’s not going to let you get away with leaving this early,” she warned, brandishing the sponge like an executioner about to deliver swift justice.

I gestured vaguely around me. “She can’t stop me if she’s not here,” I countered smugly, knowing full well that Caroline had disappeared toward the high school a little while ago, probably off handling some Very Important Fundraiser Business. That left Elena in charge of the money box, which meant my escape window was wide open.

Bonnie narrowed her eyes at me, arm on her hip like she was debating whether to let me escape or force me to suffer alongside her.

“You are such a coward,” she finally said, exasperated.

I grinned. “Cowardice is just strategic survival with bad PR.”

Bonnie let out a sigh, but I caught the amused glint in her eyes even as she rolled them at me. I had a sneaking suspicion she was still feeling guilty for being the one to ditch me at the Founder’s Party, even though I’d never really held it against her—just a little teasing, of course. Still, her weirdly accommodating behavior lately was kind of amusing.

“Fine,” she relented. “But I’m throwing you under the bus if Caroline tries to pin this on me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” I said with a cheeky grin, spinning on my heel to leave.

I debated whether I should check in with Elena before bailing. It seemed like the responsible—dare I say, sisterly—thing to do. She might need a ride home later, and I could already hear the disappointment in her voice if I left without at least pretending to care: Really, Em?

With a reluctant sigh, I made my way toward the pay booth, already mentally drafting the half-assed excuse I’d give her for leaving early. But when I got there, the chair by the table sat empty, and the cash box was shoved underneath it, untouched.

I frowned, scanning the parking lot. Maybe she’d gone back to scrubbing cars? But no matter where I looked, I saw no sign of her.

What I did find was Stefan, striding toward me with the same vaguely concerned expression I’d seen too many times on his face lately. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he had resting where’s my girlfriend? face.

“Hey, Emery,” he called out as he got closer. “Have you seen Elena?”

“Nope. Looks like she decided to ditch you after all.”

I didn’t exactly mean for it to come out as harsh as it did, but his barely-there flinch told me I hit a little harder than intended. A sprinkle of guilt flickered through me, but I was too much of a stubborn bitch to take it back.

Instead, I turned on my heel, pulling out my phone to text Elena that I was leaving the car wash.

I barely had time to tap send before Stefan called after me.

“Emery, wait!”

For a solid two seconds, I considered pretending I didn’t hear him. Just keep walking, let him marinate in whatever self-reflection he was about to throw at me. But, unfortunately, that nagging little scrap of guilt won out. Ugh.

With a heavy sigh, I glanced back at him expectantly. “What?”

Stefan stopped a few feet away, standing stiffly like he was bracing himself for a fight. His green eyes locked onto mine, and his furrowed brow made him look almost painfully sincere.

“Look, I know you don’t like me, Emery,” he began cautiously. “And I completely understand why. That’s on me. I should’ve been upfront and honest from the beginning—not just with Elena, but with you too. I know how much you care about your sister, and I need you to know that the last thing I would ever want to do is hurt her.”

I scoffed. “Oh, really? You think one night of heartfelt sharing and a few well-placed apologies are enough to fix everything?”

“No,” he admitted quickly, shaking his head. “I don’t think that. But—”

“Good,” I interrupted, giving him a pointed glare. “Because it won’t.”

He faltered for a second but pushed forward, clearly not deterred by my biting commentary. “Emery, I—”

“Stefan,” I cut him off again, exhaling sharply. “If you really want to fix this, you’ve got to stop dancing around the truth. Keep talking, keep being honest. Elena’s big on trust and communication. You really think you can handle that?”

“Yes,” he said immediately, with zero hesitation.

“Huh. Yeah, see, I don’t believe you.” I shook my head, starting to walk away again.

“Why not?” he asked, frustration creeping into his usually I am a pillar of patience expression. His voice was almost hard—probably the most negative reaction he’d ever given me. Progress.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned back to him, my gaze narrowing. “What happened to Damon, Stefan?”

That flicker in his expression told me everything. Surprise, then something colder, more guarded. He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly running through acceptable Stefan responses in his head. Finally, he settled on something half-baked.

“I already told you,” he said at last, his voice measured. “He’s gone. Left town. Probably scared of what the sheriff would do if he stuck around.”

Oh, please. It was too calm, too carefully delivered. That was the verbal equivalent of sweeping dirt under a rug and hoping no one noticed the massive lump in the middle of the floor.

My instincts screamed at me not to buy it. I didn’t know Damon well—barely at all, actually—but from what I’d seen, the guy was more cockroach-level persistent than fleeing town out of fear.

“You’re lying,” I said flatly, crossing my arms.

Stefan’s jaw tightened. “I’m not.”

“Yeah, you are.” I took a step closer, my ton dripping with unimpressed derision. “And the worst part is? You’re not even good at it, and you still had the nerve to try.”

His lips pressed into a thin, stubborn line, and for a second, I thought he might argue. But no—of course not. Instead, he pivoted. “Why do you care what happened to Damon?” he asked, too casual, but there was an edge of suspicion buried beneath it.

I rolled my eyes. Oh, so we’re gonna keep deflecting? “I don’t,” I snapped. “What I do care about is why you didn’t warn anyone about him in the first place. Did you know what he was doing to Caroline?”

Stefan sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort. “Damon and I… don’t get along very well,” he began.

I snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.”

He ignored me, continuing with a reluctant tinge, “Yes, I knew he was using her to get to me.”

My eyes narrowed. That wasn’t news to me. “Yeah, I already figured that part out,” I said sharply. “What I’m asking is if you knew he was hurting her. Stop being vague and just answer the damn question.”

Stefan shifted his weight uncomfortably, his gaze darting into the distance as he hesitated. Finally, he looked at me again, his face full of remorse as he admitted, “I can’t say I know for certain what he was doing, but… I wasn’t surprised when I found out.”

Translation: He knew. Maybe not the details, but enough. Enough to do something. Enough to stop it.

Logically, I should’ve been furious. Stefan had stood by while his psychotic brother used and hurt Caroline like she was just a pawn in their messed-up sibling rivalry. He might not have been the one pulling the strings, but he knew, and his inaction made him complicit.

And yet… I wasn’t angry.

Disgusted? Oh, absolutely. But that white-hot, dramatic-movie-montage level of rage I’d expected? Nowhere to be found. Instead, all I felt was this weird, detached kind of pity. Or something close to it. His guilt was written all over him, and maybe that was why I couldn’t bring myself to kick him while he was already down.

Or maybe it was because—on some twisted level—I could understand it in a way.

Being stuck in an impossible situation. Choosing silence because speaking up might only make things worse. Watching something unfold that you knew was wrong, but convincing yourself it wasn’t your problem to solve. That you probably wouldn’t even make a difference if you did.

Maybe I hadn’t known exactly what Damon was doing to Caroline, but I had known he wasn’t sincere. I’d known he was playing some kind of game, using her for whatever agenda he had. And still, I hadn’t really worried about it, because I told myself it wasn’t my business. That if Caroline didn’t see it for herself, there was nothing I could do.

Damon had always struck me as a little strange—but the fun kind of strange. A bit offbeat, a bit chaotic. He was like a double-dare in human form—good for a laugh, probably regrettable, yet annoyingly hard to resist. But dangerous? Not at first. So when I saw him flirting with Caroline, I just rolled my eyes. When she gushed about him, I held back a few sarcastic comments. I figured she’d get bored of him eventually—or, more likely, he’d get bored of her. Because that’s what guys like Damon did, right? They played their little games, then moved on.

Turns out, I’d been wrong.

And now, standing here, staring at Stefan, that realization made my stomach twist. Was I really that messed up that I could understand this? That I could emphasize with him? That I could recognize my own complicity and still not feel that righteous fury?

Did I care so little about Caroline—or anyone, for that matter—that I couldn’t even summon the energy to hold a grudge?

No. That wasn’t it. I did care. The sleepless nights proved that much. But Stefan’s guilt was so tangible, it felt redundant to pile my anger on top of his self-loathing. Damon, on the other hand? Damon was another story entirely.

I wasn’t sure what kind of expression I was wearing, but it must’ve been grim enough to prompt Stefan to explain himself.

“I’m truly sorry, Emery,” he said quietly, his voice tight. “I never wanted Caroline—or anyone—to get hurt. But Damon…” He trailed off, gaze dropping briefly, like even saying his brother’s name left a bad taste in his mouth. “For years, he’s done everything he can to make my life miserable. And… as much as I hate to admit it, I’ve failed at keeping him from hurting the people around me before.”

His gaze flicked back to me, those deep green eyes filled with resolve as his voice hardened. “But I’m done letting him get in the way of my happiness. So I’ve taken care of it. He won’t be a problem anymore—not for you, not for Elena, not for anyone.”

Something about the way he said it sent a chill crawling down my spine.

Stefan Salvatore was many things. Broody. Mysterious. Repressed. A human embodiment of a moody YA cover.

But threatening?

That was new.

My arms slowly dropped to my sides as I studied him. For the countless time, my thoughts strayed to the image of him sitting alone on the bleachers, watching the football practice from a distance. He’d looked incredibly lonely that day. Isolated. Clearly holding himself back from something he actually wanted.

I couldn’t help but wonder if that kind of restraint had been beaten into him—metaphorically, or maybe even literally—by years of Damon’s torment. It wasn’t hard to imagine.

And damn it, now I felt bad for him.

“I’m guessing you’re not expecting a gold star for that,” I muttered.

Stefan’s lips twitched, like he wanted to smile but thought better of it. “No. Just… a chance to make things right.”

I couldn’t begin to imagine what it was like to have a sibling whose life mission was to make yours miserable. Sure, my siblings and I bickered—sometimes to the point where we’d avoid each other for days—but at the end of the day, we always had each other’s backs when it mattered. Stefan? He obviously didn’t have that. All he had was a brother who seemed hell-bent on sabotaging him at every turn. It made sense that Stefan had built walls—thick, carefully reinforced ones—between himself and everyone else. If I’d grown up like that, I probably would’ve done the same.

I glanced away with a sigh, the sound heavier than I’d intended. “Lucky for you, the annoyingly sentimental side of me would rather see my sister in a happy relationship than miserable on her own. And…” I squinted at him, tilting my head like I was assessing a piece of questionable artwork. “I guess I see some potential in you. Enough to maybe consider you a friend. Someday.”

I stressed the “maybe,” not wanting him to get ahead of himself. If nothing else, our discussion in English class had proven we could hold an actual civil—and occasionally interesting—conversation when we tried.

Stefan perked up slightly, his guilt giving way to something closer to hope. “Thank you,” he said, his voice quiet but earnest.

Before he could take that hope and run with it, I squashed it with my next words. “Don’t thank me yet,” I warned, straightening my shoulders and pinning him with a steady look. “You’re on probation, Salvatore. Temporary acceptance with the possibility of early termination.”

He frowned slightly, like he wasn’t sure if I was joking. (I wasn’t.)

I pressed on. “Just… do your best to show us the real you. No more secrets. No more half-truths or deflections. I know it’s not easy—believe me, I do—but Elena deserves honesty from you. Hell, we all do.”

His jaw tightened like he was preparing to argue, but then he hesitated. “I haven’t lied to her,” he said carefully.

“Not outright,” I allowed, tilting my head. “But omissions? That’s just lying’s sneaky little cousin. And you are guilty of those. So let’s not pretend you’re innocent here.”

That hit its mark. His flinch was minor—barely noticeable—but it was there. The guilt settled back into his eyes like an old habit.

“And one more thing,” I added, watching him closely. “Even if you do start being honest, that doesn’t mean we’re automatically going to want you around.”

His frown deepened, and for a second, I thought I might’ve gone too far with my lead up. But then I sighed, shaking my head as I let the edge slip from my voice.

“But…” I continued, softening just a little, “if we do decide to keep you? It won’t be because of whatever mask you think you have to wear to make us happy, or to protect us, or whatever noble-but-totally-exhausting reason you’ve got going on. It’ll be because we actually like you. The real Stefan. And for what it’s worth, being accepted without all the fine print and strings attached? That’s worth a hell of a lot more than playing pretend.”

Stefan blinked, visibly thrown by the turn in conversation. For a moment, he looked like he wasn’t sure whether to thank me or interrogate me for why I was even saying this. Eventually, he just nodded, his shoulders losing a fraction of that near ever-present tension. “I’m not used to hearing that—about being accepted without strings.” A faint, self-deprecating chuckle escaped him as he glanced down. “But… I’ll try.”

I smirked. “Good. Because probation’s a pain to appeal.”

Than earned me another chuckle, this one full of real amusement.

I sighed internally, relieved that I hadn’t somehow managed scared him off. The last thing I needed was for my speech to send him running—not when Elena would’ve been furious if I’d chase him away. Not that I could picture Stefan running after all the shit I’d given him up to now. If anything, he seemed stubborn enough to make it work out, even if it killed him.

I suddenly became aware of the soreness in my left hand, realizing I’d been gripping my phone like I was trying to snap it in half, and slid it into my pocket, ready to put this whole conversation behind me.

“Whelp,” I said, I lacing my fingers together and stretching my arms out with exaggerated effort, “on that note—I’m outta here. Tell Elena to text me when you find her, okay?”

He nodded again. “Yeah. I will. See you later?”

I smirked, already turning to leave. “Sure.”

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Chapter Text

Twelve

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“Whelp, looks like it’s just you and me eating leftovers tonight, Jenna,” I announced as I stepped into the kitchen. “Jeremy and Elena are apparently holing up in their rooms for the rest of the day. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s thanks to another complete 180 in the romance department. And it was only this morning, they were acting overbearingly happy…”

I shook my head as the baffling reality of my siblings’ relationships sank in. Their whiplash-inducing ups and downs were enough to leave me dizzy. I wasn’t sure I could stomach that much emotional chaos, let alone live it.

Jenna poked her head out of the fridge, arms full of mismatched Tupperware stuffed with the remnants of meals we’d both thrown together over the week. She set them down on the counter and then turned toward me, looking oddly sheepish.

“Actually…” Jenna drawled, her voice taking on a distinctly guilty tone as she avoided my gaze.

I paused mid-step, narrowing my eyes. “Actually… what?”

She bit her lip. “I invited Logan over for dinner.”

I groaned. “Ugh. Still giving that guy a chance, huh?” I muttered, grabbing the container of leftover pasta Stefan had supposedly made for Elena and sticking it in the microwave. My tone was light, but internally, I wasn’t thrilled about Scumbag—a face I’d seen attached to Jenna’s recent roller coaster of emotions. A face I still hadn’t seen in person, yet already despised for what he was putting my aunt through.

Jenna finally turned to face me, her eyebrow raised in a pointed challenge, as though daring me to keep my commentary going. “I’m not kicking you out or anything,” she said coolly, crossing her arms. Then her lips curled into a smirk. “You’re welcome to stay and roast the hell out of him if you want.”

I chuckled, but shook my head as I grabbed a fork from the drawer. “If you really think he’s worth a second chance, you might not want to sick me on him just yet. Besides, I’m not exactly in the mood to sit through small talk with a stranger in my own house,” I admitted with a shrug, popping the microwave open to stir the pasta and then shutting the door for another round.

When I glanced back at her, Jenna’s teasing expression was gone, replaced by a frown full of guilt. I cringed, realizing how my words might’ve sounded.

I turned to face her fully, hands raised in surrender. “Hey, don’t. Please don’t,” I said quickly, cutting off any apology before it could escape her lips.

Even after months of living with us, Jenna still had these moments of hesitation, these fleeting lapses where she seemed unsure of her place here. Like she was worried she’d crossed some invisible line, or that she wasn’t doing enough to prove she belonged as our guardian. And I hated it—hated that I’d said something to put that look on her face.

“Jenna, it’s not that deep, I promise,” I reassured when she didn’t ease up. “I have no problem with you inviting people over—this is your home too. I’m just not up for using my amazing skills to entertain anyone today,” I added with a grin, trying to come off joking. “I had planned to chill in my room for the rest of the night anyway.”

My aunt gave me a soft, uncertain smile, though the guilt that had been written all over her face was thankfully fading. “Okay,” she relented, taking on a protective edge, “but promise me you’ll always let me know if you’re uncomfortable. This is still you and your brother and sister’s home first.”

I rolled my eyes, though not unkindly. I knew better than to argue with Jenna when she got like this. “Promise,” I said, raising a hand like I was swearing an oath.

The doorbell rang just then, saving me from further prodding. I grabbed my now-heated pasta and a glass of water, shuffling behind Jenna as she headed for the front door.

“Don’t open it until I’m upstairs!” I hissed quietly.

Jenna laughed but obligingly paused, giving me time to disappear up the stairs.

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I sat cross-legged in bed, watching adult cartoons on my laptop while I twirled the surprisingly fantastic pasta around my fork. One bite in, and I was humming in delight—because, damn, that Alfredo sauce was clearly from scratch. None of that jarred nonsense.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the chances were of me persuading Stefan into cooking dinner for us in the future. Probably pretty high, I decided, considering how deep he was in Elena’s pocket. The guy was whipped.

But as the evening dragged on, my thoughts kept drifting to my siblings. Their doors had still been shut when I passed by earlier. Jeremy’s cold shoulder wasn’t unusual—he still hadn’t upgraded from single-word answers since the homecoming fight.

Elena, on the other hand—that was new. Normally, she’d have busted into my room by now, dropping all her problems into my lap without preamble. And as much as I loved my peace and quiet… her silence was starting to feel wrong.

The longer her silence stretched, the more uneasy I felt. I glanced toward the cracked door of our shared bathroom. Nothing. She hadn’t come in for anything reason, not since I entered my room at least.

I sighed, setting my plate aside. “Fine,” I muttered to myself, swinging my legs off the bed as I caved. “Quick knock. Quick ‘goodnight.’ If she wants to trauma dump, that’s on her.”

I knocked on her door.

No answer.

I knocked again, louder. “Elena?”

Nothing.

I frowned and turned the doorknob, opening it slowly in case she was inside and didn’t want me barging in. “Elena?”

The room was empty. Bed made. Lights off. Zero twin in sight.

My eyes narrowed. When the hell did she leave?

I pulled back, shutting the door behind me and taking a quick lap downstairs—because, hey, maybe she was raiding the fridge or something. But the house was still and silent. Jenna had been in bed for over an hour, and Scumbag had scuttled off well before that, so no witnesses to tell me when or where Elena vanished.

I sent her a text, trying not to spiral. “Whr r u?”

I told myself not to overthink it. She was fine. Elena was responsible—way more responsible than I’d ever been. If she was out late, it was because she had a good reason. Or she was probably just with Stefan.

Still, it really bothered me she didn’t at least mention where she was going.

I flopped back onto my bed, phone balanced on my chest, and waited. Five minutes. Ten. Thirty. Still no text. Sleep? Ha. Not happening. Instead, my brain decided to host a rerun of your being paranoid.

It wasn’t like her to go ghost. She used to sneak out all the time when she was with Matt, but even then, she’d tell me. A quick “cover for me” or “if Mom asks, I’m sleeping.” But now? Radio silence.

Just as I was about to spiral into full “missing person” mode—soft footsteps on the stairs.

My breath escaped in a rush, and I sagged into the pillow. “Finally,” I muttered, closing my eyes. “Took you long enough.”

SLAM.

The sudden crash jolted me upright, my heart punching into my throat. I was on my feet in an instant, charging through the connecting bathroom without hesitation—privacy so damned.

“Elena!”

Elena was slumped on the window seat, arms hanging limply in her lap. The window—open earlier—was now shut, and I realized that must’ve been the source of the slam. She glanced up when I burst in, eyes wide for a split second before she forced them into casual mode. Too bad for her, I’d known her since birth.

Her hands trembled against her legs, and her glassy, unfocused stare did nothing to calm the knot in my gut.

“What happened?” I demanded. She didn’t look hurt, but something was off.

Elena stiffened slightly, alarm flickering behind that mask of forced calm. For a second, she just stared at me—silent, calculating—like she was running the odds of whether or not I’d buy whatever lie she was about to throw my way. Then, her shoulders sagged.

“Nothing,” she replied, too breezy to be believable. “Nothing happened.”

I raised a brow, and in my best deadpan, I said, “Elena used ‘Nothing happened.’”

I tilted my head, unimpressed.

“It’s not very effective…”

Her mouth twitched toward a smile, but the effort didn’t reach her eyes.

Crossing my arms, I studied her, trying to piece together any clues. Clothes intact. No visible injuries. No blood. So that was something. But her whole vibe screamed I just saw some shit and I need to process it before I spiral. Her pulse beat fast in her throat, her shoulders tight under that slouch. I didn’t know what scared me more—the fact that something clearly happened, or the fact that she didn’t want to tell me.

“I just… need some time alone. I’ll be okay,” she promised, attempting a reassuring smile. It was weak, and I saw right through it.

Great. Now I get to spend the rest of the night worrying.

I exhaled heavily, running a hand through my hair before taking a step back. “Fine. But if you suddenly decide to have a breakdown at 3 a.m., you know where to find me.”

Her smile wavered, but she nodded. “Goodnight, Em.”

“Yeah. ‘Night.”

I lingered for a second longer, half-hoping she’d crack. She didn’t.

Reluctantly, I turned away and retreated to my room, shutting the bathroom door behind me. The second I heard the lock click, I sagged against it.

Yeah. No way I’m sleeping tonight.

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The next morning, Elena and I ended up in the bathroom at the same time. She gave me a hesitant smile, like she wasn’t sure if I was about to bring up last night’s weirdness.

Spoiler: I wasn’t.

I was still half-asleep and more concerned with cleaning the gross feeling out of my mouth than playing detective this early.

“Morning,” I mumbled around a yawn, reaching for my toothbrush.

“Good morning, Em,” she chirped back, too chipper for someone who’d looked like she’d seen a ghost just hours ago.

Suspicious.

We brushed in mostly silence—just the sound of running water and bristles scraping. I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye, unconvinced by her perky act.

By the time I’d spat out the last of the toothpaste, Elena broke first. “Do you need the car today? I was planning on meeting Stefan for coffee in about a half hour.”

I froze mid-rinse, trying to figure out when the hell she and Stefan had gone from potential breakup to coffee date. Did they even have a fight yesterday? My thoughts circled back to the way she’d looked last night—like she’d just been through hell and was trying to hide it. Or did I hallucinate that entire encounter? Maybe she’d worked through it overnight. Or maybe… she was just avoiding the topic entirely.

I frowned at my reflection. God, when did I become this invested in my sister’s love life? This was getting sad. But something about her didn’t sit right with me, and I couldn’t entirely push away my unease.

“Oh, uh, yeah, actually,” I said, rinsing my toothbrush. “Matt and I were gonna go for a run at the park soon. You heading to The Grotto? I can just tag along. Park’s only a few blocks away, and it’ll save Matt the drive here.”

Her face fell—briefly and barely noticeable, but I caught it just in time in the mirror. I got the distinct impression she’d been hoping for a solo trip. Sorry, sis. Too bad.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine,” she said a little too quickly. “I’ll meet you downstairs in fifteen?”

“Sure,” I replied, watching as she left the bathroom without another word.

Whelp. This was shaping up to be an awkward car ride.

Before leaving the house, I shot Matt a text. “U up yet or shld I expect a zombie in sweats?”

We’d made these plans yesterday at the car wash, realizing it was one of those rare weekends where neither of us had anything going on. Even though we’d patched up our friendship from our summer apart, it felt like we barely spent time together—just the two of us. Not for lack of trying, either; life just kept getting in the way. A never-ending barrage of homework, football, family issues, and whatever random-ass event this town decided to throw together.

My phone dinged the second I got in the SUV. “U r insane. Running?? On a wknd???”

I snorted, thumb already tapping out a response. “Suck it up, Donovan. U asked 2 hang out. No take backs.”

I hit send and grinned to myself. Matt had never exactly been enthusiastic about running. He was more of a run-when-a-coach-makes-me type, while I considered it a semi-enjoyable way to burn off stress. Still, he’d asked what I was up to today, and he knew what he was signing up for. Besides, we used to run together all the time when we were both training for our sports. The nostalgia alone made it worth dragging him out of bed (and myself).

From the driver’s seat, Elena side-eyed me but didn’t comment. She’d been unusually quiet since we left the house. And the closer we got to The Grotto, the more anxious she looked.

I yawned and stretched as we pulled up to the curb. “So, do you want—”

“I can pick you up later if you need me to,” Elena interrupted, her cheerful voice at odds with her obvious nerves.

I squinted at her. “Yeah… nah. I’ll just have Matt drop me off.”

As I climbed out of the car, my gaze snagged on Stefan sitting at one of the outdoor tables. He was hunched forward, elbows braced on his knees, looking about as miserable as someone could while sipping gross coffee. He looked… well, the most brooding I had ever seen him. It didn’t take a genius to put two and two together.

Oh. So this isn’t just coffee. This is Breakup Coffee.

My eyes slid to Elena. She’d already spotted him, her expression drawn as she gripped the steering wheel like it had personally wronged her.

I hesitated in shutting the door, then leaned back in and gave her shoulder a quick squeeze. “You’ve got this.”

Her head whipped toward me, genuine surprise written all over her face. Apparently, moral support wasn’t what she’d expected from me today. Slowly, she offered a weak smile.

With a final wave, I shut the door and turned away, catching Stefan’s eyes as I did. He held my gaze for a beat, as if bracing for whatever sarcastic jab I might throw his way. But for once, I didn’t feel like gloating or shooting a warning glare. A small, buried part of me actually hoped my speech to him yesterday hadn’t been completely pointless.

I gave him a tiny nod instead, then walked away, leaving them to figure out if this was the end or just another chapter in their extremely complicated romance novel.

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“Damn, Mattie, one summer of you skipping our runs, and this is how out of shape you are?” I teased, laughing breathlessly as I slowed down to an easy jog so I wouldn’t leave him in the dust.

Matt groaned and made a halfhearted attempt to shove me mid-stride—only to miss and almost trip himself. Which, of course, made me laugh harder.

“Shut up, Em. I play football, not run track,” he grumbled, winded.

“Still gotta run in football,” I sing-songed, jogging a wide circle around him before darting ahead on the trail again.

He caught up after a few seconds, dragging in deep breaths like he’d just summited Everest. “It’s more about short bursts. Not this long-distance crap.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, grinning all the while. “Excuses, excuses. Cardio is essential, my friend. Essential.”

He shot me a glare that was more pout than menace. “Yeah, well, I can out-bench you any day,” he muttered under his breath, dripping with petty competitiveness.

Fair point. He absolutely could. “True,” I admitted with a shrug, not even bothering to argue. “I know my strengths, and repeatedly picking up heavy things isn’t one of them.” I’d tapped out of Strength and Conditioning class ages ago, deciding I’d rather spend that time focusing on art.

Matt huffed out a laugh, but then his shoulders sagged a little, and his flushed, easygoing expression turned uncharacteristically dejected. It was like watching a golden retriever suddenly realize it had been left home alone.

“Not like lifting has been helping me much with football, either,” he mumbled, seemingly out of nowhere.

But I had a feeling of where his mind was wandering, and slowed my pace until we both stopped in the middle of the trail. I waited patiently for him to go on.

“It just feels pointless sometimes,” he finally said, frustration bleeding into his tone as he dragged a hand through his sweat-damp hair. “Football, I mean. There’s no way I’m getting a scholarship for it. Not when there are better players like—” He cut himself off abruptly, shaking his head like he regretted starting the thought. “Forget it. It’s stupid.”

I didn’t push, but I could guess exactly who he was thinking of. Instead, I pointed toward a wooden bench just off the trail. “C’mon,” I said, my tone softer now. “Let’s take a break.”

Matt hesitated, then followed without protest, collapsing onto the bench with a heavy sigh.

We sat there for a bit, catching our breath while the park buzzed with weekend energy. A border collie bounded past with a couple jogging behind it, its tail wagging so violently I half-expected liftoff. Kids shrieked and darted around the trees like tiny maniacs while their mom shouted empty warnings from a picnic blanket.

The sun was shining, birds were chirping, and the air was crisp but not chilly—the kind of weather that practically begged you to be outside. It felt like a crime to waste it.

“You still like football, right?” I asked after a while.

Matt hesitated before answering. “Yeah,” he admitted. “It’s… one of the few things that helps me forget about everything else. School. My sister. Mom.” He added that last part so softly, I almost didn’t catch it.

My jaw tightened. His mom. The Kelly Donovan. Permanently stuck in that weird limbo between absentee mother and party-girl-in-residence. The kind of mom who’d enthusiastically teach you how to shotgun a beer but couldn’t be bothered to show up for your parent-teacher conference. She hadn’t been back in weeks—longer, maybe, considering Matt hadn’t mentioned her lately. Somehow, she always managed to bail when it mattered most, or simply never show. Like when Vicki was attacked—an event that would’ve sent any halfway-decent parent racing home without a second thought.

But not Kelly.

I didn’t hate many people, but she made the list.

I griped the edge of the bench hard, anger flaring on Matt’s behalf. He didn’t deserve this—not him, not his sister. But I bit back the rant forming on my tongue. Tearing into his mom, as satisfying as it would have been, wouldn’t help him.

So instead, I nudged him lightly with my elbow, aiming for something a little more productive.

“Okay, then here’s the thing,” I said, leaning toward him with mock seriousness. “Football doesn’t have to be your golden ticket to college. There are other ways to get there. And if you need help figuring it out? I’ve got you. Just… don’t let some dumb idea that it’s your only chance ruin the one thing you actually enjoy.”

He nodded slowly, but I could see he wasn’t ready to believe it yet. This wasn’t something I could help fix with one pep talk. Matt had been wrestling with this for a while now, and the doubt ran deep.

And, if I was being honest, I wasn’t sure how much help I could really be here. I’d never had to worry about affording college. My parents had always been financially stable—even before the life insurance money kicked in. For me, college wasn’t some impossible dream to solve; it was just… there, waiting for high school to end.

For Matt? It was a whole different story.

Before he could close up on me, I shook the thought and brushed the conversation away for now, giving his shoulder a light slap as I stood. “Welp, I think I’ve sufficiently destroyed your lungs for one day.” I shot him a lopsided grin, hoping to lift the mood. “How about we hit the Grill for lunch, and then I school you in a game of pool?”

Matt finally cracked a smile, his tension easing just a bit as we started walking back toward his truck. “School me? Please. You might have me beat at running, but you’re even worse than your sister at pool.”

I gasped, pressing a hand to my chest. “How dare you, Mattie! At least I didn’t almost poke your eye out with a cue stick.”

Matt barked out a laugh. “Oh, man, I forgot about that! Damn. Should’ve held that against Elena when we played the other day.”

I raised a brow at that, thinking back to when Elena might’ve been at the Grill. That must’ve been the same day she’d sat around waiting over an hour for Stefan to show up and explain himself. Huh. So Matt had been there for that. Interesting.

Just as we reached his truck, Matt’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen, frowning slightly before answering. “Hello? …Jeremy? Hey, what’s up?”

My head whipped toward him. Jeremy? Calling Matt? The hell? My brother hadn’t said two words to me all week, but he was calling Matt out of the blue?

Matt’s expression darkened as Jeremy spoke on the other end. His voice shifted, suddenly tight and urgent. “Wait—what? Okay, okay, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just don’t let her leave.”

I frowned. “What was that about?”

Matt ended the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket with jerky movements. “We gotta head to your place,” he said, already moving to the driver’s side. “Vicki showed up high, and Jeremy says she’s acting out of her mind.”

The worry in his voice sent a jolt of adrenaline through me. My stomach turned as the reality set in: Vicki, high, volatile, and Jeremy stuck dealing with her alone.

“Awesome,” I muttered to myself. “Can’t wait to see what kind of dumpster fire this turns into.”

I yanked open the passenger door and climbed in. Matt threw the truck into gear and peeled out of the lot. We didn’t talk as we sped toward my house—didn’t need to. We were both bracing for whatever disaster was waiting for us when we got there.

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The ride to my house was tense and silent, Matt and I lost in our own thoughts. I occasionally glanced over at him, his tight grip on the steering wheel not easing up even once. What exactly were we walking into?

When we pulled up to the curb, Matt barely put the truck in park before we jumped out and hurried inside. Raised voices came from down the hall, Jeremy’s strained tone mixed with Vicki’s erratic, almost frantic responses.

We stepped into the kitchen to see Vicki an absolute mess, crumpled on the floor and leaning against the island. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes red and unfocused, darting around like she couldn’t keep track of anything. The faint sheen of sweat on her forehead told me this was more than just a bad day.

My gaze shifted above her. Food was scattered on the counter haphazardly—more than any one person would need.

Matt didn’t hesitate. He crouched down beside his sister, speaking to her in a soft, careful voice.

I turned to Jeremy in absolute confusion at the sight. “What the hell is going on?” I whispered.

Jeremy ran a hand through his hair, his expression so exhausted it made me pause. “She showed up like this, Em,” he said, his voice tight with stress. “I don’t know what she’s on, but it’s bad. I tried talking to her, but she’s all over the place. She won’t sit still, she’s not making any sense—nothing. I called Matt because I didn’t know what else to do.”

Before I could respond, a choked sound came from Vicki. Both of us turned our attention back to her and Matt. She was crying now, her face scrunched up in pain as she cradled her jaw.

“My gums,” she whimpered. “My jaw hurts. My gums—there’s something in my gums, and it hurts.”

Matt tried to coax her off the floor, his hand hovering just shy of touching her shoulder, but she flinched away. “Come on, Vick, let’s get you out of here. We’ll go home, okay? You’ll feel better there.”

That only seemed to make things worse. Vicki shoved his hand away and let out a sudden shout, clawing her hands into her knotted hair.

“Just turn it off!” she screamed.

Matt froze, his face torn between concern and helplessness. Jeremy stepped forward in alarm. “Turn what off?” he asked, his voice rising slightly. He sounded completely out of his depth, and I couldn’t blame him.

But I couldn’t help the bit of anger I felt. Not at Jeremy—at Vicki. How could she drag my little brother into this mess? He was just a kid. He shouldn’t have to deal with this kind of thing. The guilt hit just as fast, but I couldn’t completely smother the frustration.

Vicki suddenly pushed herself off the floor, stumbling to her feet. She swayed, wild-eyed, and I instinctively moved to block the door, worried she might bolt. But she didn’t. Instead, she staggered into the living room, muttering, “The talking… the chatter… just turn it off!”

And then she froze.

We followed her gaze, and I immediately saw what stopped her in her tracks. The TV was on. Scumbag was on the screen, reporting live from a cemetery. Yellow police tape stretched across the background, and several figures in uniform moved between what looked like… bodies covered by tarps.

Jeremy, wide-eyed, grabbed the remote and turned up the volume. The room fell deathly silent except for the sound of Logan’s voice.

“Three bodies were found dead in what is believed to be a drug deal gone awry. The bodies have yet to be identified. They were discovered earlier today over at the old Mystic Falls cemetery.”

Jeremy turned to Vicki in shock. “That’s where we were last night.”

My eyes snapped to him, widening in alarm at the information. “What?” I demanded.

Matt’s head whipped around, his face hardening as the severity of the situation hit all of us. “What happened, Vick?” he asked, his voice tight and edged with something that sounded a lot like fear.

I turned back to the TV, my mind racing to fit the puzzle pieces together while fighting not to jump to conclusions. Scumbag’s voice droned on in the background, chilling and matter-of-fact.

“…homicide, and are fast under way looking for suspects. They’re asking anyone with information…”

“I’m calling the cops,” Matt said suddenly, his hand already reaching for his phone.

Vicki frantically lunged for Matt’s arm. “No! Don’t!”

“Vick—”

“What happened after I left last night, Vick?” Jeremy cut in softly. He stepped closer, holding his hands out like he was approaching a wild animal.

But his gentle attempt backfired. Vicki shoved him hard, her movements frantic and uncoordinated. Jeremy stumbled back, losing his balance and crashing into the couch.

I started to move, but Matt was at his side in an instant, already helping him up. “Jer, are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” Jeremy snapped, brushing Matt off as he straightened. His eyes flicked to me, silently pleading for me to stay back. I could see the warning in them—don’t escalate this.

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself to stay put for his sake, even though every instinct screamed at me to intervene. He was right—if we pushed Vicki any further, she’d spiral completely. And then what? She was already teetering on the edge of something none of us understood. Somehow, we had to calm her down, get her to sleep, before this whole thing exploded and someone got hurt.

Matt straightened, staring at her incredulously. “Damn, Vick.”

Before anyone could say more, we heard the front door open and shut.

Elena and Stefan walked in, their footsteps halting as they took in the scene. Elena’s brows furrowed, her gaze darting between us. “What’s going on?” she asked cautiously, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

“She’s really messed up.” Matt shook his head, beyond himself on what to do at this point. Neither of us had ever seen her reach this point on drugs before.

Elena took a step forward, but Stefan stopped her with a hand on her arm. “Elena, back up,” he said firmly.

To my surprise, Stefan took control of the situation, his tone steady and sure. “Vicki, look at me.” He stepped into her line of sight. “Focus. You’re gonna be fine. Everything’s gonna be fine.” His words were even, deliberate, and somehow they cut through her frenzied panic.

Vicki’s breathing slowed, her wild eyes locking onto him as if he were the only solid thing in the room.

Stefan glanced at Matt and Jeremy. “Guys, take her upstairs. Shut the blinds. Make sure she gets some rest. She’s gonna be okay.”

Matt hesitated, his worry written all over his face, but Jeremy gave him a small nod, and together they guided Vicki toward the stairs. She didn’t resist.

As the tension in the room began to dissipate, I exhaled deeply, realizing just how tightly wound I’d been. I turned and slipped into the bathroom, desperate for a moment to myself. The stress of the past few minutes, coupled with a poorly timed full bladder, had become unbearable.

But, as it turned out, we weren’t getting a break yet.

The moment I stepped out of the bathroom, raised voices reached my ears.

Jeremy and Matt were shouting, their words muffled but clearly frantic. My pulse spiked as I followed the sound.

Damn it, she bolted, didn’t she?

By the time I stepped outside, Matt was already driving his truck down the road and Stefan was jogging away, leaving us Gilbert siblings alone on the front lawn.

I turned to them, throwing my hands up. “What the fuck? I was only in the bathroom for a moment!”

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Elena was being overly insistent about us staying home, practically begging Jeremy and me to let Matt—and even Stefan, for some goddamn reason—handle the search. She rattled off excuse after excuse, grasping at anything to keep us out of it. A small, selfish part of me agreed with her; Jeremy should most definitely stay out of it.

But as Matt’s friend, I couldn’t let him do it alone, especially since he wasn’t getting the cops involved just yet.

While Elena was distracted dealing with Jeremy, I grabbed the car keys and hit the road. I’d deal with any fallout later.

After what felt like an eternity of trying to get through, Matt finally picked up one of my calls. I asked where he hadn’t looked yet so we could split up and cover more ground.

It was well past dark by the time we’d combed through all of Vicki’s usual spots, and with no sign of her, we finally decided to meet at their house. I didn’t have much hope she’d gone back there, especially since it was the first place Matt had checked, but it was worth a shot.

When we pulled into the driveway and enter the house, it was still dark and empty. It was clear we were out of options.

I stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm. “Matt, we have to go to the police.”

He didn’t argue. He just nodded, his shoulders slumping as the fight seemed to drain out of him.

I followed him to the station, hoping they wouldn’t dismiss us. With the bodies found at the cemetery earlier today, the officers seemed to take the report seriously. Thank God, otherwise I’d be calling Liz on one of her rare days off, throwing a fit until something was done. I’d watched enough true crime shows to know how often police brush off missing person cases, falsely claiming you have to wait 24 or even 48 hours before filing.

They assured us they’d put out a missing person report immediately and planned to send officers to patrol the streets tonight. A search party was scheduled for the morning, with notices going out to gather volunteers. Knowing they were taking action brought some relief, but not enough to quiet the gnawing pit in my stomach.

Once everything was finalized—or at least, as finalized as it could be with so little to go on—I felt my last bit of energy drain out of me. The adrenaline that had been pushing me forward all evening was gone, leaving me bone-tired and on edge.

The officers encouraged Matt to go home, telling him he should be there in case Vicki returned during the night. It was a clear dismissal.

“I can stay with you tonight,” I offered quietly as we stepped out of the station and into the cool night air.

Matt shook his head, staring off into the distance. “I’ve got a few more places I want to check before I head home. I just… thought of them after talking with the cops.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, even knowing full well he wouldn’t budge.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, I promise. Go home and let Jeremy know what’s going on, I’m sure he’s sick of being out of the loop.”

“Call me if you need anything,” I insisted, though I doubted he would. “I’ll meet you back here in the morning.”

Before he could protest, I engulfed him a tight hug. Matt let out a deep breath, and I almost refused to let go, having half the mind to shove him in my car and drive us both back to his house. But then he stepped back and walked to his truck without another word.

I watched his taillights disappear out of the lot before sighing, dragging a hand down my face. “This girl is gonna be the death of us…”

As I headed for my SUV, a pang of regret settled deep in my chest. I wished I had connected with Vicki better growing up. Maybe if she’d had more supportive people around her, she wouldn’t have gone down this path. We’d spent so much time together as kids, but at some point, she started seeing me as nothing more than her little brother’s friend, and whatever friendship we might have had faded away.

I thought back to the comet festival, when she mentioned us hanging out sometime. She’d been so out of it that I hadn’t taken her seriously, but now… I regretted dismissing the offer so easily.

Once we find her, I decided, I’d try again.

The drive home was quiet, the radio having been off all evening. I tried to compile my thoughts on the day, but I was too tired to organize them into anything coherent. All of my energy was spent paying attention to the road. A part of me wished I’d canceled our morning jog in favor of getting more sleep.

As I pulled into the driveway and stepped out of the car, I mulled over what to say to Jeremy. Guilt gnawed at me for not finding Vicki, and I dreaded seeing the look on his face when I told him. At least I could give him something to hold onto—the search party tomorrow. He was definitely going to skip school to help, but I couldn’t blame him. I had every intention of doing the same.

Seeing the kitchen light on, and wanting to avoid a potential confrontation with Elena, I walked around the house to the front door instead, hoping I could book it up the stairs. I paused before the porch steps, taking a moment to collect myself. The night was calm, the crickets almost soothing. I tilted my head back, letting my gaze drift to the sky. The stars stretched endlessly above, their soft glow casting a quiet comfort over the moment.

On a whim, I let myself fall back onto the grass, staring up at the vast, endless night.

Just five minutes. Five minutes to breathe. Then I’d go inside.

The door creaked open a few seconds later, and I closed my eyes with a sigh. So much for five minutes. Now, was it Jeremy or Elena?

Footsteps approached on the cement path, stopping vaguely near my feet. Then—nudge.

“You alive down there?”

Instantly recognizing the voice, I briefly considered pretending to be dead. When another nudge met my shoe though, I gave in.

“No,” I muttered grudgingly, slowly opening my eyes. “Deceased. Pronounced dead on arrival.”

He hovered above me, the warm glow from the porch light illuminating his face just enough to make his pale blue eyes stand out, their brilliance almost surreal against the night sky. The starry backdrop framed him like some kind of celestial being, and for one absurd second, I was ignited with a sudden desire to grab a canvas and manically paint until dawn.

“Pity.” An increasingly familiar smirk graced his face, and—surprisingly—he didn’t even question why I was randomly lying outside in the grass at night.

I hadn’t been sure what I’d say if I saw Damon again. The incident at the Founder’s Party still left me uneasy, and while I had managed to sort things out with Stefan, a part of me knew I couldn’t handle it the same way with Damon.

“What are you doing here? I thought Stefan killed you,” I asked. A yawn snuck past my lips, completely ruining the severity of my words.

So, obviously, it was an insane exaggeration, but Stefan had been vague enough when I asked, anyone could draw that conclusion.

Damon’s smirk tightened. “Oh, did he now?”

I shrugged from my spot on the ground. “I mean, what other conclusion was I supposed to come to? When I asked what happened to you, Stefan said—and I quote—‘he’s gone’ and ‘I took care of it.’” I raised my fingers to mimic air quotes, exaggerating every word. “Sounds very murder-y if you ask me.”

Never mind that his words were slightly out of context. But hey, when someone ominously claims they “took care of it,” it tends to spark the imagination.

His head tilted slightly as he studied me, eyes glinting like a cat sizing up its next prey. I debated bringing up Caroline—maybe see if I could guilt-trip him into showing some remorse—but judging by the way he was acting, looking unbothered as ever, the chances were slim.

“Yeah, well, my brother has a habit of being a little too optimistic about that.” Then, as if dismissing the topic entirely, he gestured toward the sky. “So. Enjoying a peaceful night under the stars, mmh?”

I pushed myself up onto my elbows, glancing skyward. The stars twinkled faintly through the suburban haze, and the cool air helped ground me after the hours of anxious searching. “I was trying to clear my head,” I admitted with a sigh. “It’s been a long day.”

His gaze lingered on me, far too perceptive for my comfort. I could feel the intensity of it like static against my skin. “Something bothering you, Emery the Cunning?”

My mouth twitched despite myself. Still, I hesitated. How much did I really want to share with Damon Salvatore, of all people? The guy was literally a walking red flag wrapped in a leather jacket. The reason I was barely getting any sleep. Why I couldn’t even look at Caroline without feeling guilty.

But exhaustion won out over common sense. After hours of crisscrossing town with Matt, running on fumes and anxiety, the stars overhead and Damon’s unexpected presence gave the night a surreal, dreamlike feeling that left me strangely open, despite my better judgment.

I sighed. “Vicki Donovan is missing. Matt’s still out looking for her, and we’re all worried. I just got back from searching with him.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Vicki Donovan, the waitress? I’ve heard my share of gossip about her around The Grill. She’s a handful even on a good day. Missing, you say?”

“Yeah.” I nodded, the weight in my chest pressing down harder. I sat up fully to relieve it, crossing my legs as I watched him. “And with everything that’s been happening in Mystic Falls lately… well, it’s not exactly a good time to go missing.”

Before I could start spilling my feelings all over him next, I blurted out, “Why are you even here?”

Damon glanced toward the house. “I’m looking for Stefan. You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, do you?”

Ah. Of course, he didn’t come here to explain himself. Why would he?

I frowned then, realizing he had already been inside my house. What the hell had he said to Elena? God, I hoped she’d let him have it. Sometimes, my sister could be even nastier than me, and she definitely had reason to rip him apart.

I ignored his question. “Is that why you had the balls to show up here? You do know none of us are thrilled to see you, right? Actually, that’s probably an understatement.”

He scoffed, completely unfazed. “What can I say? It’s impossible to please everyone.”

I glared, my patience officially gone. “Spoken like a true abuser.”

Damon’s smile tightened, then vanished so fast it was almost whiplash-inducing, a hardened expression taking its place. The effortless charm he usually wielded cracked, and though it clashed with the act he’d always put on, I knew now that there was an ugly side of him.

“I’d say, based on your audacity speaking to me like this, they’ve left you out of the loop,” he seethed.

The shift in his tone sent instant alarm bells to my brain. But just as quickly as the anger appeared, it was gone. Damon’s usual smirk slid back into place like a mask snapping into position.

He shrugged. “Oh well. Not my place. I’ll let them deal with the fallout.”

My eyes narrowed in confusion, heart rate kicking up a notch. “What the hell does that mean?”

Damon wagged a finger at me like I was a misbehaving child. “Ah, ah, ah. Not my place.” He stepped back onto the path, that stupid smirk widening. “Besides… it’ll be fun seeing how long it takes you to figure out.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t pop out of my skull. “So unnecessarily cryptic…”

“Oh, you know me,” he said, wearing that maddeningly amused expression, like he’d already won. “Can’t resist keeping a girl guessing.”

“I don’t know you, actually.” My frown deepened as I tilted my head. “I wanted to, but looks like any hope of that happening has gone right down the drain,” I admitted, not bothering to hide the bite in my tone. “Not that it matters. Seems like that’s exactly how you like it, huh?”

The words hung there, spiteful and unforgiving. I hadn’t originally intended to admit it, but there it was.

My mind flashed back to the Founder’s Party, to that weird bonding moment between us in the heirloom room, an illusion that shattered by the end of the evening.

Now you’re catching on.

Damon’s face was expressionless at my confession, even as his gaze stayed fixed on me. Which, honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised. Of course he wasn’t going to own up to his actions.

“If I didn’t know better,” he mused, “I’d say you expected more from me. Rookie mistake.”

I shook my head at that. He was likely a lost cause, it was pointless to waste anymore time on him. Standing up, I shook the grass off my jacket, trying to ignore how the night dew left my jeans slightly damp and clingy.

“Oh well, then. Your loss,” I said with a shrug of forced nonchalance. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m completely drained from searching for Vicki. And I have to get up and do it again in a few hours.”

I turned to leave, mentally congratulating myself for walking away from whatever weird game he was trying to rope me into this time.

But I’d barely made it three steps before he spoke again.

“You’re not as indifferent as you want people to think, are you?”

My foot hesitated mid-step—just enough to give me away. The words landed lower than I expected, the kind of offhand observation that felt just a little too close to knowing.

I didn’t bother turning all the way around. Just glanced over my shoulder with the flattest expression I could muster.

“Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” Damon stepped forward, his teasing smirk nowhere to be found. “You can pretend all you want. Crack jokes, roll your eyes, play it cool. But you care. Way more than you want anyone to notice.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Take it from me—that’s a dangerous habit.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Wow, Damon. So deep. What’s next? You gonna pull out a leather-bound journal and read me your poetry?”

He chuckled, low and throaty. “Tempting.” Then he leaned in just a little too close, his breath brushing my ear. “But I don’t think you could handle that kind of intimacy.”

I stilled. The hair on my arms and neck prickled. When he straightened, his smile was all teeth and charm.

“So how about a little unsolicited advice instead, munchkin—guard that thorny little heart of yours. Sooner or later, someone you care about is going to turn around and gut you with it.”

Damon let the words sit for a moment, then spun around on his heel, adding lazily over his shoulder, “Take your prissy, perfect sister, Elena, for example. She hasn’t exactly been forthcoming with you lately, has she?”

I frowned, pulse skipping at the question. Was he just messing with me like always, or was there some truth hidden beneath the smug delivery? Elena had been acting weird lately. Avoiding questions, brushing off certain topics. And yeah, it bugged me.

Whatever it was though, Elena deserved space to figure it out on her own if she wanted. And I trusted her to share if it was something so serious it would cause harm to me or our family.

But I was starting to catch on to how Damon worked. He was the human equivalent of a raccoon—obsessed with shiny distractions, leaving a mess he had no intention of cleaning up, and was way too smug for something that clearly lived off chaos and bad intentions.

“Cute,” I said, hand resting on my hip. “Your desperate attempt to sow discord is noted. Let me guess—you’re hoping I’ll storm inside, pick a fight with Elena, and then you’ll sit back and have a good laugh about it. Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not that easily manipulated.”

Damon looked back at me, lips curling into a slow smirk. “No manipulation here. Just a concerned friend looking out for your best interests.”

I let out a disbelieving laugh. “Yeah, right. I don’t think you even know what a friend is.” I turned away, heading for the house. “Save the psychological warfare for someone who actually gives a shit. Whatever you think you know about me or my sister? Keep it. I’ve got more important things to deal with.”

“Have it your way, munchkin,” he called after me, smug and sing-songy. “Stay blissfully ignorant. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I didn’t respond—even as the nickname scratched at my last nerve—because I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.

Instead, I climbed up the porch steps, not sparing him another glance. My thoughts were already shifting back to Vicki and the hours spent combing the town for her. I hoped Matt wouldn’t stay out too much later. Where else could he have gone to look? We’d checked every businesses we could, every park, every party hotspot, every sketchy side street.

I paused, hand on the door handle as one important location suddenly occurred to me.

“The cemetery,” I spoke up, loud enough for Damon to hear. “Stefan was supposedly helping us look, but we didn’t cross paths with him once. I just realized now the only place Matt and I didn’t look was the cemetery.”

I hoped Matt didn’t think of it too, considering that’s where the murders happened. Although, it was likely the police were keeping an eye on the scene and wouldn’t let him in anyway. It was a long shot for Stefan to be there as well, but if there was any chance he was, it made me uncomfortable thinking he was alone.

Though I didn’t want to help Damon, I figured it’d be more to my benefit by sharing. If not, well, it wouldn’t hurt to sent him on a pointless goose chase around the cemetery. Practically a win-win.

An urge to turn around overcame me at the thought. Damon was gone, however, having left without a word.

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Chapter Text

Thirteen

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Elena’s enthusiasm for the Vicki search effort could only be described as “missing, presumed dead.” Which, considering the actual situation, felt especially rich (and super insensitive of me—but hey, I was coping). I could still see some concern for Matt’s sister buried somewhere behind her dead-eyed stares and infuriating silences, but it wasn’t enough to excuse her complete emotional face-plant.

Sure, I knew something else was eating at her—probably whatever drama unfolded Friday night—but still. Vicki could be out there somewhere, hurt or worse, and Elena’s biggest dilemma seemed to be whether she wanted to bring a bagel or granola bar for lunch. I wasn’t Vicki’s best friend or anything, but we’d grown up together. Skipping school to help look for her felt like basic human decency, not exactly a moral high ground.

Of course, Elena had no interest in joining, and since she needed the car for her riveting day of pretending to care in class, I called Matt to pick up Jeremy and me. Letting our brother tag along only further annoyed her—which, honestly, made me feel a tiny bit better.

Thankfully, the actual meeting for the search went surprisingly well. Volunteers were organized, search areas mapped, and I only had to restrain myself from slapping two people. The big group search wasn’t happening until the evening though, when more people would be available.

Still, Matt, Jeremy, and I managed to skip school for the rest of the week to contribute. (Team Truancy, doing it for the greater good!) But by the next week, the police pulled the plug on that plan, insisting we stay in school and only search after hours. Buzzkills.

Matt and I exchanged a look when one of the officers broke the news—both of us silently agreeing not to poke the bear. Getting into a power struggle with the cops wasn’t going to help. I’d watched enough true crime documentaries to know that “strained relationship with law enforcement” is usually code for they stop trying. Vicki was—technically—an adult with a history, and the last thing we needed was for them to label her a runaway and close the book.

Jeremy didn’t argue either, which told me two things: one, he was probably planning to ignore the rule and do his own thing, and two, he knew I wouldn’t stop him. Hell, a part of me kinda wanted to say screw it and keep skipping too. Not just for Vicki, exactly. But for Matt and Jeremy, who were carrying around enough anxiety to power a small country. If it meant giving them some peace of mind, I’d forge a doctor’s note and fake a flu in a heartbeat.

Matt, bless him, was holding up pretty well. Well, as well as a guy could when his sister vanished into thin air. I had to talk him into taking breaks, not because I was an expert in self-care, but because watching him spiral while I slowly lose my own mind watching wasn’t going to help anyone. I stayed over most nights just to make sure he was eating more than gas station snacks and actually doing homework, and honestly? It was a nice break from the Elena situation. We weren’t exactly on great terms.

Something was definitely off with her, and the one time I tried to ask, she gave me the flattest “I’m fine” since the dawn of sibling deception. My gut said it had something to do with Stefan. Call it twin telepathy or just good old-fashioned body language reading, but I was starting to think their “coffee date” ended with something stronger than espresso shots. Stefan hadn’t been at school all week, which wasn’t helping the theory that they were still smitten. Still pretty weird to miss that many days over a break up, though…

By Friday—though neither of us wanted to say it out loud—Matt and I were starting to lose a little hope. No Vicki. No leads. Just the slow drain of exhaustion and volunteers whose enthusiasm was dwindling by the hour.

I’d crashed at Matt’s again the night before, and when I wandered into the living room at some ungodly hour to find him staring blankly at the wall, I decided to drag him to The Grotto for coffee (and my matcha latte).

By the time we shuffled into school, I almost felt human again. Not fully, but enough to form coherent sentences and blink without cursing. Before we split off to our lockers, I stopped him and gave his shoulder a pat.

“Now Matt,” I said, giving him my most faux-serious voice. “If you decide to ditch early again today, you better text me so I can come with.”

He winced. Yesterday he had left solo after someone tipped him off about a spot Vicki used to smoke at, and I hadn’t found out until hours later. Cue my TED Talk to him on teamwork and emotional trauma.

Matt gave me a sheepish smile, clearly remembering the lecture. I wasn’t mad he went without me—I was terrified. As much as no one wanted to say it, the longer Vicki stayed missing, the more real the possibility became that we might not find her alive. And if that happened? I didn’t want Matt to be the one to find her. Especially not alone.

“Okay, I promise.”

“Good.” I nodded, satisfied. “See you in history.”

I walked down the hall, feeling slightly less like a roadkill, until my brain finally registered what was going on around me. Cobwebs. Black streamers. Plastic bats. Cardboard tombstones. Students taping paper spiders to lockers with way too much enthusiasm.

I stopped in the middle of the hallway like someone hit pause on my brain. A girl in cat ears nearly body-checked me trying to get around. I blinked at a glittery skeleton on the wall.

Oh.

Right.

It was Halloween.

I slapped a hand to my forehead and groaned loud enough to earn a few stares.

How the hell did I forget today was Halloween?

Halloween. My favorite holiday—the one time of year I could fully embrace my inner goth goblin. Peak spooky. Prime time for dramatic face paint and morally questionable costume choices. And I blanked on it completely.

I just stood there, surrounded by the fake cobwebs and tombstones, having an existential crisis in the middle of the hallway like some kind of sleep-deprived ghoul.

That’s when it hit me: I wasn’t okay.

Sure, I’d seen the pumpkins on porches. The plastic skeletons posed like they were mid–Broadway number in someone’s front yard. I knew Halloween was coming up. But the date itself? Poof. Gone. Slipped right out of my head, blurred into the endless timeline of crises, apparently wedged between my sister’s emotional roller coaster, my guilt over Caroline, and the endless stress buffet that was Matt Donovan’s missing sister. Things had been piling up so slowly I didn’t even notice I was crushed under them until—bam—jack-o’-lanterns in the hallway and a personal identity crisis to match.

And right then, standing there with polyester bats hovering around my head, I wanted my parents back so bad it hit like a sucker punch. Which was stupid. Or maybe not stupid, just… inconvenient.

I hadn’t really let myself think about how much I used to lean on them—how easy it was to dump all my emotional baggage at their feet and not worry about being too much. They knew me, the worst parts of me, every unflattering corner, and somehow still managed to love me without making it feel like a chore. And now? Now I was stuck juggling everyone else’s mess while pretending mine didn’t exist just so I could do it.

And yeah, I knew that was something Elena would harp on me about for not sharing, but we weren’t exactly swapping secrets right now, so her opinion was kinda null and void.

I took a deep breath. Okay. No spiraling. Not here. I was at school. Save the meltdown for later—like in the girls’ bathroom or in the bed of Matt’s truck.

Just as I started walking again, my phone buzzed. Text from Matt.

“Vick called. Said she’s ok. Just needs time.”

At first, I exhaled in relief. Then it flipped into irritation like someone hit a switch. Days—literal days—of her ghosting us, and she only called with a simple “I’m okay”? I rubbed my face. She was safe, yeah, and that was obviously the best-case scenario, but I wouldn’t fully exhale until I saw her in person and confirmed she hadn’t been replaced by a very convincing imposter or something.

I shot back a quick reply—something about being glad but wanting her to check in properly—and shoved my phone away.

The news should have felt like at least one weight off my shoulders, but that brief sense of relief didn’t last.

With another deep breath, I tried not to dwell on it.

As I got closer to my locker, I noticed Bonnie a few feet down at hers. We hadn’t talked much since the Founder’s Party. She’d done a little ghosting of her own since then—thankfully the socially-withdrawn kind, not the full-on missing-person kind. Whatever spooked her that night clearly hadn’t let go, and the way she kept slipping out of things lately told me she was dealing with more than she let on. Matt had even texted me after the car wash fundraiser a while back, asking if I knew what was up with her since she bailed without so much as a “peace out.” (And she gave me all that hassle for leaving early too!) It didn’t sit right with me.

“‘Sup, Bonnie.”

She turned at the sound of my voice, scanning my tired, makeup-less face like a nurse taking vitals. Emery without eyeliner = visual code red. “Em, hey. How are you?”

Bonnie might not have been at every search effort, but she’d showed up with on-the-go meals and the kind of quiet support that didn’t ask for a gold star. She knew I was worn thin—maybe not all the reasons why, but enough to read the dark circles.

I shrugged. “Better now, I think. Vicki finally called Matt. She’s fine. Sort of. Maybe… Still off the grid.”

“That’s great news though. How is Matt handling it?”

“Undetermined,” I said, shaking my head. “She calls after a multi-day vanishing act like she just needed a nap and a face mask. No heads-up, no explanation. Just poof, ‘I’m fine, don’t worry.’” I threw my hand up. “Meanwhile, half the town’s been playing Where’s Waldo: Drugstore Edition.”

I was half-wondering if Matt had told the cops yet. Technically he should. But also, technically, she was an adult. The whole thing was walking a weird tightrope between relief and rage text draft #7.

Before I could fall further down that hole, I spotted Caroline heading straight for us with a bounce in her step and a white bag clutched like it contained buried treasure. I tensed slightly. Not because I had anything against her or treasure—but guilt was apparently my new hobby.

“I’ve got your costume! It’s all here,” she chirped, beaming at the Bennett.

Bonnie pulled out the top of a pointy hat, then immediately looked like she regretted everything.

“Seriously?” Bonnie deadpanned, giving her a look.

“Come on. Can someone please be excited that it’s Halloween?” Caroline practically vibrated with desperate cheer before her eyes landed on me and lit up again. “Emery! You love Halloween! Please tell me you’re dressing up and coming to the school party. I need someone who actually wants to have fun. You know… just some silly, harmless, Damon-free fun.”

A pause.

Fun? With Caroline?

I mean, sure—Vicki was technically alive and breathing, so I suppose I shouldn’t feel guilty for considering it. But my brain had been so fried lately I couldn’t even remember what day it was, let alone slap on a costume. Still… a completely different guilty part of me said I owed her.

“Actually… I never picked out a costume,” I admitted, wincing. “I kinda… completely forgot it was Halloween.”

They both stared at me like I’d announced I hated kittens and candy. Even Caroline’s sparkle dulled for a second. Everyone knew I lived for Halloween.

“Okay,” she said, recovering fast with a flick of her hair and rallying like the cheerleader she was. “Winning costume planned or not, you are definitely coming tonight and letting loose. You need fun, I need fun. No excuses.” Her baby blues practically burned holes through my skull.

I gave a weak laugh and rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t want to say no, not with how much she clearly needed this win. (Also not when she was still wearing high collars like her life depended on it. I tried very hard not to glance at her neck.) And… maybe I did too. If I could rope Matt into going, I might not spontaneously combust from social overload.

“I’m sure I can throw something together.”

Caroline perked right back up and clasped her hands excitedly. “Good! Now—do you know what Elena’s wearing?”

I shrugged. “No clue. I’ve been staying at Matt’s.”

And expertly avoiding the minefield that was every common space in our house. Eye contact included.

“I’ve been spending most of my time with Grams,” Bonnie added, her voice casual but not exactly warm when Caroline’s inquisitive look landed on her. “Haven’t talked to her either. Maybe she’s with Stefan.”

Hmm. I wondered if she was feeling slightly bitter about Elena’s behavior lately too.

“Riding to his castle on his white horse,” Caroline sighed, dramatically collapsing against the lockers like she was auditioning for a daytime soap.

I didn’t bring up my speculation of the two possibly having broken up. Or that Stefan was definitely not a white horse guy. Maybe a dark castle guy, though…

“Don’t be bitter,” Bonnie said dryly, not missing a beat. “It provokes wrinkles.”

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“One quick call and that’s it? No explanation, no excuses, no ETA for when she’s planning to grace us with her presence again?” I asked as I slid into the passenger seat of Matt’s truck, slamming the door shut with just a bit more energy than necessary.

We hadn’t had a chance to talk all day—not that school was big on giving people time to emotionally decompress—and I was relieved he actually kept his promise not to ditch without warning this time. Not that I’d admit it to him, but I’d been waiting for a ‘gotta go!’ text since first period.

Matt pulled out of the parking lot and turned left, toward my place. I figured it was finally time to return to my regularly scheduled programming now that Vicki had decided to drop a casual “I’m alive.”

Even without looking directly at him, I could tell his emotions were a mess—like someone had shaken up a carbonated bottle of guilt, relief, and unresolved trauma and handed it to him without warning. But his shoulders weren’t as tense as they’d been this morning, so I guess the call had taken some of the pressure off.

“Nope,” he said flatly. “And she didn’t pick up when I called back.” His grip tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening, then added quietly, “She’s turning out just like Mom.”

Oof.

I looked down and twisted the ring on my finger. I’d grown up next to this family, watching Kelly Donovan’s personal brand of neglect take root. Vicki had always been the one vocal about how messed up it was. It honestly felt like some cosmic joke for her to start echoing that exact pattern now.

After a moment of heavy silence, not knowing what to say, I decided to bring up my concern from earlier. “Did you get a hold of the police yet?”

Matt sighed, but at least he didn’t look like he wanted to bite someone anymore. “Yeah. Called the station at lunch. They’re calling off the search parties, but they still want to talk to her once she shows up. They said they need to ask her about… the incident at the cemetery.”

Ah yes, the incident—aka the town’s current favorite horror story. Depending on who you asked, it was either a drug deal gone wrong, a demon-worshipping cult, or Bigfoot back for revenge. The media was having a field day. The police? Radio silence. And Matt and I? We weren’t touching that mess with a ten-foot pole until we had, you know, actual facts.

Jeremy had been vague about it, too—because of course he was. But after some gentle sibling coaxing (read: superhero-level guilt-tripping), he finally and officially admitted he’d been with Vicki that afternoon. Claimed he didn’t know much—said he bailed early, pissed that she only wanted to hang out when there were drugs involved. And yeah, that tracked. I was low-key proud of him for walking away… and also very-high-key internally combusting when I realized he could’ve been there when everything went down. You know—murdered. No big deal. Totally fine. I was very emotionally stable about it.

Didn’t give us much to work with, however.

The rest of the drive was quiet—well, externally. Internally, my brain was a whole marching band of thoughts.

When Matt finally pulled up in front of my house, I didn’t move. Just stared at the front door like it might quiz me on how to process the last few days. After a long pause, I said, “I didn’t realize today was Halloween.”

“Neither did I…”

I turned to look at him, and the guilt on his face was enough to make me want to rewind the last week, give us both a reset button.

“Well, honestly,” he started, rubbing the back of his neck, “I thought about it a few days ago but… I didn’t know how to bring it up. With everything going on with Vick, it just kind of fell to the back of my mind. I’m sorry, Em. I know it’s your favorite day of the year. And it’s the first one without your parents. You guys always… went all out.”

Yow. Right in the emotional kneecaps.

Still, I appreciated him laying it all out like that—no tiptoeing, no pretending I wasn’t one paper cut away from crying into a candy bowl. Just straight-up knowing what I was thinking without making me say it out loud. A rare talent. I liked to think I was holding it together better than Elena or Jeremy, but even I wasn’t immune to Bad Day Syndrome. With all my energy going into Vicki Search 2.0, I hadn’t left myself any room to process how I’d feel today.

Was this the new norm for Halloween now? No more excitement, no more planning weeks in advance, just another day? Because that was bleak. Like, apocalyptic bleak.

Matt reached over and gave my shoulder a comforting squeeze. I inhaled deep, pulled myself together, and flashed him a grin.

“It’s okay, Mattie. I don’t blame you or anything. Even if I had remembered earlier, this year would’ve been lowkey anyway. But since the emergency sirens are finally off for your sister… what do you say we hit up the school Halloween party?”

Matt grinned back. “Yeah. Let’s do it. It’s about time we have some fun. I’m sure I can put a costume together. I wouldn’t dare show up normal next to you.”

“You got that right.” I shot him a look, then cracked up with him.

And just like that, I decided—tonight was going to be my reset button. Or, at the very least, a chance to pretend I had one.

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With a final smear of fake blood across the corner of my mouth, I flashed the monster in the mirror a truly unhinged grin. Costume? Done. Sanity? Questionable. Honestly, for something I threw together last-minute, it looked disturbingly good. Low effort concept, high effort execution.

Sure, “zombie” wasn’t winning any originality contests, but I was proud of the realism. The bite mark on my arm looked gnarly enough to warrant a trip to the ER—molded from paper towel, spirit gum, and a whole lot of trust in my decade-old crafting skills. A little purple and black paint gave it that “mutant infection chic,” with bulging vein details trailing all the way up toward my jaw for flair. I added more around my eyes and mouth because why not commit to the bit?

After tossing on my most structurally unsound jeans (read: hole-ridden) and an old black painting shirt that I shredded with scissors like a Halloween-themed episode of Project Runway, I stepped back to admire the damage. All I was missing were white-out contacts and maybe a vaguely threatening shuffle. But the bite was obvious, and my unholy aura of sleep deprivation would sell the rest.

Overall, it was fun to put together. Therapeutic, even.

As I took in my reflection, my eyes caught on one out of the many photos clothespinned to the strung up twine around my mirror. A nine-year-old Halloween classic: the Gilbert Family Does The Wizard of Oz. The only time we ever managed a coordinated group costume without a civil war breaking out. And truthfully? We peaked.

I couldn’t remember whose idea it was—probably Mom, or maybe Elena with her sparkly shoe agenda—but I remembered the chaos perfectly. And the joy. It was one of those rare, golden-core-memory Halloweens where no one cried, no one threw up from too much candy, and Jeremy didn’t run off halfway through the night to trade his costume for a Batman cape.

Elena stood dead center, full Dorothy fantasy engaged, all gingham and confidence. She’d been hellbent on being the main character—solely to wear the red ruby slippers. And wear them she did, for a month straight, everywhere—school, cheer practice, grocery store, even to bed (though Mom quickly put a stop to that). Jeremy crouched at her side, mid-roar, trying his best to look fierce in his lion onesie. Though, he failed to look anything but adorable with his black-painted nose and whisper marks.

And there I was—lopsided patchy hat, straw sticking out of my sleeves, grinning like I was about to topple face-first into Elena (I was). The Scarecrow was my favorite, obviously. No brain, all vibes. Method acting to the max. Elena had been so annoyed at all my silly stumbling, but I knew inside she had been giggling with me.

Behind us stood Mom and Dad, committed to the bit as always. Mom had on the full Glinda ensemble—sparkly pink dress, glitter crown, star wand we’d DIY’d together with glitter and way too much hot glue gun trauma. She was aiming it at Dad’s grinning face, right at his silver-painted nose. He, of course, had gone all in on Tin Man, axe prop and all, looking like a metallic lumberjack.

I smiled, tracing a finger gently over their frozen-in-time, ridiculously in-love faces.

“I wonder what costumes you would’ve picked this year…” I murmured.

“So do I.”

I turned. Elena was standing in the bathroom doorway, dressed in last year’s nurse costume. I knew Matt was doing the same since it was so last minute, but I had texted him an hour ago to at least slap on some fake blood to keep the spooky spirit alive with me. I had no intention of helping my sister jazz up her costume, though.

Neither of us had spoken since getting home. I wasn’t about to break the silence first—not after the week we’d had—but I’d left my bathroom door open as a kind of silent white flag. We’d upheld that unspoken gesture for years: door open equals I may not be ready to talk, but I’m not mad enough to shut you out.

She stepped a little closer, her eyes on the photo I’d just been staring at. “That was a good year,” she said softly. “I really loved those shoes. I wore them everywhere. I think I even tried to wear them to bed once.”

I quietly huffed an amused laugh as she voiced my thoughts from seconds ago.

“They really went all out for us, huh?” Elena sat on the edge of my bed, fiddling with the hem of her nurse dress like she was unraveling a thread she couldn’t stop pulling.

“All week it just felt… off,” she admitted. “Like, no fake cobwebs in the corners, or bones thrown on every surface, or mysterious fake blood stains all over the house. You weren’t here plotting out this years gruesome costume or strong-arming Jeremy into carving pumpkins after video game characters. And I guess… I didn’t realize how much I relied on you to make the house feel like Halloween.”

She shook her head. “It felt… It felt worse than not having Mom and Dad around to plan our yearly party. With them gone, I knew what I was missing. But with you? It just felt like I was waiting for something that never showed up. A bit of normalcy I always took for granted. I’m sorry, Em.”

I sat down next to her with a sigh loud enough to echo into the void. “I… forgot today was Halloween.”

I winced at her wide eyed surprise, and nodded sheepishly.

“Yup. Which is, like, borderline blasphemy coming from me, I know. And this is probably fucked up, but I think I’m actually glad the search for Vicki kept me distracted. If I’d remembered, I probably would’ve forced myself to keep all our traditions going just to prove everything was fine—and then promptly combusted from burnout.”

“No one would’ve expected that from you,” Elena said, all gentle and sincere, like I hadn’t just admitted to nuking my own holiday.

I gave a half-shrug. “Yeah, but I would’ve expected it from me. Which is arguably worse.”

She hit me with those big, watery doe eyes of hers. “I really am sorry, Em. I feel awful. This week could’ve gone a lot differently if I’d just… been there. For you. For Jeremy.”

I side-eyed her. “Well, the Vicki situation probably would’ve still been a shit show, but yeah… some support from our allegedly supportive sister would’ve been cool.” I didn’t sugarcoat it. She knew she dropped the ball.

The guilt practically melted off her. “I know, I know. I just… I haven’t been handling things very well lately.”

Understatement of the century, but sure. Still, I knew my sister well. And whatever had been chewing away at her all week was still gnawing with impressive persistence. The Elena I grew up with—morally upright, compassion-core, deeply allergic to anything resembling apathy—would’ve been way more concerned about a missing person. Especially one tied to people she cared about, regardless of what she thought of Vicki’s… questionable life choices.

“What’s going on with you, Elena?” I asked gently. “Whatever it is, you can tell me. It’ll help. You know bottling things up isn’t exactly your strong suit.” I gave her a nudge and my best please-be-vulnerable-with-me smile.

She didn’t answer. Just stared straight ahead like a deer in headlights at an emotional tollbooth. That silence? Yeah. That was enough confirmation—I was officially worried, not just irritated.

“…Is it Stefan?” I asked, switching tactics.

That earned me a shaky breath. Bingo.

Still no answer, though. So I went for the metaphorical crowbar. “He didn’t… hurt you, did he?”

“No!” Her head whipped toward me, eyes wide with horror. Then she looked away almost instantly, like even that reaction startled her. “No, no—it’s not like that, I swear. Despite everything… I know Stefan would never hurt me.”

A heavy feeling built in my chest. Because something had caused her to doubt him, even if it was only for a second. That didn’t exactly scream ‘healthy relationship vibes.’

I clenched my jaw, trying not to sound like I was already prepping a shovel. “Despite everything? Did you two break up?”

“…Yes?” The questioning lilt to her answer not only confuse me, but her as well. Her face twisted. “I don’t know, Em. I barely know what’s going on. And I don’t know what to do anymore.”

She turned toward me imploringly, eyes stormy and conflicted. Whatever this was, it definitely wasn’t just boyfriend drama. My worry spiked to full DEFCON-1.

I reached over and took the hand she’d been mauling the hem of her dress with. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I—”

I didn’t look away. Just waited, letting my face do the ‘supportive sibling’ thing while resisting the urge to shake the answers out of her. She paused, then nodded.

“Okay. I’ll tell you.” Elena hesitated again. “But—can we wait until after the Halloween party? Tomorrow, okay? I just want one good, normal night of fun. I even convinced Jeremy to come.”

I didn’t love that answer, but I could tell it was the best I was gonna get tonight. Her smile was more pressed than pleased, but it lightened slightly when she glanced me over.

She smiled, though it had the stability of a wet napkin. Then her eyes roamed over my costume, and that strained smile morphed into a real one. “You’re going too, right? You look great, by the way. Really realistic.”

She nodded toward my arm, but the wrinkle of her nose at the sight of the zombie bite said more than the verbal compliment. Ah, yes. Sisterly approval, seasoned with mild horror and disgust. Truly, the greatest endorsement.

I grinned back, feeling a tiny bit lighter. “Okay. One night of spooky escapism first. And yes, I will generously overlook the fact that you’re recycling last year’s costume. But just know—you’re legally obligated to go all-out with me next Halloween. Like, synchronized group theme levels of all-out.”

“Oh, how merciful of you,” Elena deadpanned with a dramatic eye-roll. But even just imagining planning next year made something flicker behind her eyes again—hope, maybe. Or sheer fear of being roped into a costume of my choice.

“Maybe we can all coordinate next year,” she added. “Even though Jeremy agreed to go, he’s not dressing up.”

I gasped like she just told me he’d burned all my sketchbooks. “How dare he?! Rude. Blasphemous. I will be speaking to him personally.” I stood and cracked my knuckles. “Prepare the intervention.”

Elena laughed. “Go easy on him. I haven’t exactly been a champion of his… situationship with Vicki.” She winced. “I’m surprised he even agreed to go.”

“Well, at least you asked him,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’ve been so wrapped up in Matt World: Missing Sister Edition, I haven’t exactly been present on the Jeremy front.”

Guilt flashed across Elena’s face for a split second before she schooled her expression.

Since we were already on the Jeremy-Vicki train, I figured it was time to throw down a middle sister opinion. “Elena… I think you need to back off Jeremy and Vicki.”

Instant disagreement. It bloomed all over her face before she even opened her mouth.

“Hang on—” I cut in, raising my hands. “I know. I don’t like it either. But pushing him on it is just gonna make him dig in harder. He already feels like he gets no support from us. We can’t add to that. Besides, this thing’s on borrowed time anyway. They have, like, zero overlap on the Venn diagram of compatibility. Either Jeremy figures that out himself, or Vicki finds someone shinier and vanishes again. She’s not exactly known for consistency.”

Elena’s head was already shaking before I finished. “No. I’m sorry, Em, but they really can’t be together. Even if it’s only temporary. But I’ll explain more later.” She stood, quickly changing the subject. “Are you riding with us to the party? We should probably leave soon.”

Hmm. Suspiciously evasive. My brow furrowed as I thought back to Vicki’s meltdown and Stefan’s conveniently timed disappearance. Something wasn’t adding up.

Still, I let it go—for now. “Alright, alright. I’ll come with you guys,” I said, grabbing my phone and wallet on the nightstand. “Just give me a few minutes to harass Jeremy into wearing literally anything other than moody teenage apathy.”

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I threw myself dramatically against Jeremy’s bedroom door with a loud thud, groaning like a low-budget zombie extra.

“Braaaains,” I moaned, dragging it out like I had all the time in the afterlife.

Nothing.

I kept going, throwing in some extra wall-slaps and a particularly pitiful death rattle for flair. Still no answer. I was seconds away from giving up and accepting my fate as a rejected undead sibling when the door suddenly flew open.

I stumbled forward with all the grace of a tranquilized goat, but recovered quickly—transitioning into a slow, lurching zombie shuffle right into his room. Dragged a leg. Moaned again. Full commitment.

Jeremy looked like he wanted to be annoyed. Really, truly tried. But then his eyes scanned the full extent of my zombified glory—veiny face paint, bloodied bite, ripped-up clothes—and his frown wavered.

“Weirdo,” he muttered, but his lips were twitching and a chuckle soon escaped.

“Thank you,” I replied, absolutely beaming. I broke character to do a ballerina spin in the middle of his room. “Pretty good, huh?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug, but I saw the approval in his eyes. “Too bad you don’t have any creepy contacts. Would’ve completed the look.”

“I know, right? Ugh, next year I’m going full SFX nerd. This was my procrastinator special.”

His amusement faded slightly at that, clearly catching the implication.

I offered a sheepish smile. “Sorry I didn’t do the usual Halloween chaos this year…”

Jeremy immediately gave me a look. The kind of look that said, Are you serious right now?

“As if anyone expects that from you right now. Idiot.” He rolled his eyes. “You’ve had, like, a lot going on. Try being human.”

Despite knowing better, it still felt nice hearing it aloud. Validation—sometimes you do need it in the form of your moody little brother.

“Speaking of a lot going on… have you heard from Vicki?” I asked, folding my arms as casually as I could. “Matt said she still hasn’t come home yet.” I’d filled Jeremy in at school, but I wasn’t sure if she’d actually reached out to him since.

Just the mention of her name had his whole face light up like I’d handed him a winning scratch-off ticket. Ugh. Teenage like. I wanted to annoyingly groan—and maybe gag—but I kept my mouth shut. As much as I didn’t like it, this wasn’t a joy I wanted to strip from him now.

Jeremy peeked his head out the door, then glanced both ways down the hallway before shutting the door like I’d just asked him to confess to a felony. “I don’t know if she’s home yet, but, uh… she asked me to meet up with her at the school Halloween party.”

Oh.

There it was—the look. That pleased little I have a date and I’m pretending it’s casual but I’m actually screaming inside smile.

Honestly, it was kind of adorable. And also kind of made me want to slam my head against a wall. I mean, I’d been breaking my back scouring half of Mystic Falls to help find this girl, and the second she throws him a flirty text, all was forgiven?

Still, him telling me was kind of a big deal—and definitely a sign that my week of sleep-deprived searching hadn’t gone unnoticed. Jeremy didn’t open up easily these days. Especially not with Elena deep in her anti-Vicki campaign and whatever awkward static had been between us since the Homecoming Tailgate Aftermath™. But this? This meant he trusted me again. Even if he’d sooner eat gravel than admit it out loud.

Which was a lesson that Elena didn’t always seem to get: If you push someone hard enough, don’t be surprised when they stop talking to you altogether.

I smirked. “Ah, so that’s why you’re suddenly down to socialize. Planning to ghost your sisters the second we walk through the doors, huh?”

Jeremy grinned, no shame in sight. “What brother would willingly hang out with his older sisters when he could be making out with a hot—”

I raised a hand. “Don’t finish that sentence.”

He did not care. “It’s just facts.”

Then his grin dimmed a bit. “You’re not gonna tell Elena, right? She keeps telling me to get over Vicki. But she just… doesn’t get it.”

His voice softened, and it hit me: he thought I did. That I understood. That even if I didn’t totally approve, I wasn’t about to go nuclear over it. And no way was I ruining our truce by correcting him.

I mimed zipping my mouth shut. “Consider it sealed. That said—” I held up a finger with dramatic flair “—you are still getting a last-minute, drive-by older sister lecture on dating. It’s the law.”

He groaned. “Oh no.”

“Rule number one: contraception. Always. I am not equipped to be Aunt Emery this early in life.”

Jeremy turned bright red and practically backed into the wall. “Oh my god, Em, why are you like this?”

I shrugged like it was out of my hands. “Because it was me, Elena, or Jenna. Pick your trauma.”

He made a face. “Too late. Aunt Jenna already hit me with the ‘real talk.’ That morning you caught Vicki sneaking out of the bathroom? Yeah. She cornered me after you left.”

I snorted. “Oh, I remember. I offered Vicki breakfast to keep things from being extra awkward. You’re welcome, by the way.”

His expression softened. “She told me. Thanks for not making a big deal out of it.”

I waved a hand. “Pfft, I used to stay quiet for Elena every time Matt did the ol’ walk of shame. Keeping sibling hookup secrets is practically a side hustle at this point.”

I gave him the side-eye. “Although I never thought I’d be doing it for you and Matt’s older sister,” I chided offhandedly, knowing this was the only time I’d get away with expressing my dislike at the age difference. “What is it with you Gilberts going after Donovans, anyway?”

He laughed. “You’re a Gilbert too, you know. And last I checked, one Donovan is currently single…”

I paused. Glared at him. “Don’t say it.”

“Ya know, I always thought it was you and Matt who would end up together,” he said, grinning way too smugly.

I doubled over with theatric horror. “Jeremy. No. Never utter those cursed words again or I will eat your brain. Zombie style.”

He just laughed, loud and absolutely unbothered. Not taking me seriously at all despite being a zombie.

“Anyway,” I sniffed, recovering from psychological damage, “I came in here to see what costume you picked. But you’re still dressed as ‘Emotionally Repressed Teenager #4,’ so I’m guessing none.”

He crossed his arms. Flat look engaged.

I ignored it. “Lucky for you, you have an insanely creative, generous, and spooky-season-obsessed older sister willing to rescue you from your own bad choices—”

“I’m not dressing up, Emery.”

I narrowed my eyes. “If you give me one of those ‘I’m too old for costumes’ speeches, I swear I will launch into a passionate monologue about joy and childhood whimsy and ruin your life.”

Then I smiled sweetly. “Besides, Vicki’s totally dressing up. She always does. You really wanna be that guy who shows up without a costume while his girlfriend is rocking full Halloween glam?”

He sighed. Defeated. The sigh of a man who knew he had no way out.

Victory.

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Chapter Text

Fourteen

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The Halloween party was in full swing by the time we arrived, and for real, props to Mystic Falls High. Someone on the planning committee clearly had a vision. The entrance had been transformed into a full-on haunted rave, complete with creepy décor, pulsing music, and enough fog to qualify as its own weather event. A projector cast horror clips onto the curtain covering the doors, and it actually gave me pause. I’d never seen them do that before.

Spooky ambiance: 10/10. School spirit: unexpectedly thriving. My mood? Improving.

Even Jeremy seemed to be catching the vibe. A few younger girls squealed after he jump scared them with a growl, and their laughter was met with a fond shoulder smack from Elena, who didn’t even try to hide her smile. Baby bro, spreading Halloween chaos like a true Gilbert.

Inside, it was full sensory overload in the best way: UV black lights, fog curling at everyone’s ankles, cobwebs strung from every surface like Charlotte got hired for decoration duty, and a mix of store-bought and hand-painted Halloween tapestries covering the walls. It was tacky, theatrical, and completely glorious.

I spotted Matt across the lobby by the gym doors, dressed in scrubs covered in strategically placed fake blood. A half-zombie, half-overworked medical intern vibe. He made his way over with a grin, clearly having waited for me like the loyal golden friend he is.

“Em, you look horrifyingly awesome,” he said, crouching slightly to inspect my arm. “That bite mark is… disturbingly realistic.”

I bowed dramatically. “Thank you, thank you. I pride myself on my ability to make people slightly concerned for my well-being.”

I looked him over, noting the careful blood smears and an impressively well-placed handprint across his chest. “And you clearly understood the assignment. Very nice work bloodifying the repeat costume. I’ll allow it.”

Matt chuckled. “Figured I should put in a little effort to make up for wearing last year’s. I do remember how personally offended you get by that.”

I pointed at him. “Justice for creative costume innovation.”

His attention shifted to Elena, and I saw his face light up when he noticed they were accidentally matching in their returning couple’s costumes. His grin was near smitten. Maybe I should’ve told one of them to change after all… “I see I’m not the only one repeating, huh?”

Elena gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah… I wasn’t even sure I was coming, so I didn’t really plan.”

Ah, the soft, lingering look they exchanged. High school tension, now available in nurse-and-doctor flavor.

Thankfully, Matt turned before I had to physically insert myself between them, aiming his teasing next at Jeremy. “And let me guess—you’re going as… yourself?”

Jeremy deadpanned, unimpressed. I gave a dramatic cough into my hand, earning a sigh before he unzipped his hoodie and pulled the hood back, revealing a modest bite mark painted on the side of his neck.

I beamed like a proud stage mom at a middle school production of Zombieland: The Musical. (Let’s be real—there is no universe in which that would be approved for a school theater production… but I’d sell my soul to see it.)

“He got a little too close to me,” I said, all nonchalance, like it wasn’t the most validating moment of my entire undead-themed evening. It wasn’t as detailed as mine—we were working under time constraints and limited sibling patience—but it was clear enough to read from a few feet away. As long as he kept the hood down and didn’t smudge it on Vicki’s face during whatever high school PDA they had planned, it was a win.

“Nice,” Matt laughed, nodding at Jeremy, who’s lip quirked up the slightest at the compliment.

“Em painted that?” Elena asked, trying to get a closer look. “I didn’t think you’d willingly dress up. Did she blackmail you?” Her tone was teasing as she shot me an amused look.

Jeremy, who had up until that moment been doing a decent impression of someone tolerating his family, stiffened as she leaned in. His whole vibe shifted. One second he was chill, the next he was bailing like the lobby had turned into a church and he was a demon about to be exorcised.

Without a word, he turned and walked off.

I sighed. Welp. There he goes.

Elena frowned after him. “He’s… not exactly happy with me at the moment,” she said, clocking Matt’s confused glance. “We got into a fight.”

Matt nodded sympathetically. “Yeah, I got into it with Vick too when she got home. I’m trying not to hover tonight, but part of me didn’t even wanna let her out of my sight.”

Elena’s face went full freeze frame. “She’s here?”

“Uh, yeah,” Matt said slowly, turning to me like that was weird, right? “She’s a vampire.”

Elena’s entire body went rigid. “I—I’m going to find Jeremy,” she muttered before power-walking away without any explanation.

I blinked after her. Okay, I knew she was against Jeremy and Vicki dating, but I didn’t think she’d physically try to prevent it. I shook my head, choosing not to fight this battle.

Matt turned to me. “Something I should know?”

I gave him a look. “Matt. Come on. You’re not that blissfully unaware. My brother and your sister have been doing… whatever weird situationship thing they’re doing for a while now.”

He cringed like I’d just made him drink expired milk. “I just hate acknowledging it.”

“Tell me about it. Elena hates it even more, which is why she’s currently in pursuit like a madwoman. I, however, will not touch that with a ten-foot pole.” Elena already knew my stance on this. I could only do so much to stop her from digging her own hole.

Matt nodded slowly, clearly trying to file that under “not my problem” too.

“So,” I said, pivoting before that went any further, “how is Vicki? Did she go to the police yet?”

Matt ran a hand through his hair: the universal sign for my life is a dumpster fire and I’ve accepted it. “She was kind of jittery when she showed up. Complained her head was killing her, but otherwise seemed okay. Said she’d talk to the police tomorrow…”

He didn’t even try to fake optimism, letting the sentence trail off into the abyss of things-that-definitely-won’t-happen.

I winced. That sounded about right.

His frown deepened, and immediately I regretted asking. Great job, me. Crushing the vibe before we even reached the snacks.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to tank the mood,” I apologized quickly. “Let’s just stick to the plan: spooky fun, zero sibling drama. We can’t control what they do, but we can control how much candy we eat while ignoring it. Plus, I need to start a running tally of all the jump scares I can get out of this zombie getup.”

That earned me a half-smile. “You do look terrifyingly convincing. Try not to traumatize too many freshmen, okay?”

“No promises,” I said sweetly, already scanning the crowd for unsuspecting victims. “But first—we feast. I heard the science hallway has a haunted house setup, but we can hit it after we carbo-load on themed desserts.”

As if summoned by sugar-fueled destiny, we passed the snack table, and one shared glance was all it took. Yes, we were stopping. And yes, we were going to shovel Halloween cupcakes into our faces like two kids banned from processed sugar.

A few classmates came over to chat. Okay, mostly to talk to Matt, but I still graciously accepted their impressed compliments about my hastily-applied but very effective zombie makeup. (“Yes, thank you, I did create this horrifying flesh wound with a paper towel and sheer perfectionist spite.”)

Eventually, we made our way to the science hallway, where the haunted “lab” was way better than I expected. The vibes were darker, the props a little more realistic, and unlike the rest of the school, they actually allowed fake blood here. So naturally, it was my favorite place immediately.

Was it peak horror? No. I had paid good money to be scared in haunted corn mazes by people who jump out wielding chainsaws. But for a public high school event run by teenagers and overworked teachers? Not bad.

That said, the real highlight was when the final scare actor lunged out and Matt let out a very undignified, “OH, SHIT!”

I immediately lost it. Fully cackled. Could not stop.

I tried, for the record. Really did. But the way he looked at me with pure betrayal, like I had personally set him up for this moment, made it worse. I was practically doubled over, gasping for air, while a group of freshman behind us watched their “scary experience” get annihilated by my wheezing laughter.

To make matters worse—or better, depending on whether you were in line behind us or possessed a functioning sense of humor—the scare actor broke character and straight up snorted. Then burst into full-on laughter. Sorry, kids. This haunted hallway was now a comedy zone.

The freshman glared at us as they walked past to the exit.

Admittedly, their costume slayed—pun intended. Some kind of machete wielding, burnt-up ghoul situation, complete with a face prosthetic that looked like it was melting off the skull. If I hadn’t been busy laughing like a hyena, I probably would’ve told them they had a future in movie SFX.

Too bad I ruined their scare streak. But hey, worth it.

“Damn, Emery, you made me break character,” the ghoul wheezed.

It took me a second, but the voice—along with the energy of someone who definitely owned more than one pair of Doc Martens—clicked. Levi Mills. A senior in my art class, and suddenly the above average costume made sense. He was definitely one of the more creative students in the class, clearly taking painting for the love of it and not the easy A.

I never expected to see him as part of the haunted hallway scare crew. He always pegged me as a behind the scenes only person, though I suppose I didn’t know much about him beyond class.

My grin doubled. “Well, you did almost make Matt jump out of his skin, so I’d still call it a win.”

Matt, adjusting his twisted stethoscope, let out a good-natured groan and shot me a fake glare. “You know he would’ve nailed you too if you weren’t using me as a human shield.”

I held up my hands in mock innocence. “Hey, I was just taking in the ambiance. And your startled scream? Pure ambiance.” Then I leaned toward Levi and harshly whispered, “It was totally worth it not going first.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Matt tried to keep up the angry bit, but his growing grin easily gave him away. He turned to Levi. “Good one, man.”

Levi chuckled, the grotesque mask contorting in a creepy yet comical way at the contradicting action, his white contacts adding to the strangeness of it all. They looked so cool. What I wouldn’t give to have a pair to complete my own look… “Glad I could provide some entertainment. Oh, and sweet costume, Emery. The bite mark and veins look sick. You should’ve joined the crew. I’d kill to watch you terrorize freshmen all night.”

I waved him off with a smirk. “Nah. Too limiting. I prefer a more free-range scare tactic.”

Matt rolled his eyes at that. I ignored him.

“But hey—excellent job on the face-melt thing. Real Oscar-worthy nightmare fuel.”

“Thanks!” Levi beamed. “We’re only running this thing for another hour, so maybe I’ll catch you later?”

“I’ll be haunting the halls. Stay creepy.” I gave him a double thumbs-up, then strolled through the curtain exit while Matt gave him one of those bro nods and followed.

Not even two steps down the hall and Matt was looking at me all smug like. “You know,” he said, turning the corner with me, “I don’t know what’s more awkward—watching guys flirt with my best friend, or watching you completely miss it.”

I blinked at him. “Flirt? Please. We were just two art nerds appreciating each other’s skills. Like classy gore connoisseurs.”

Matt snorted. “Right. ‘Appreciating his skills.’ Got it.”

I shoved him sideways into a dangling cobweb. “Eat spider.”

“Hey!”

“I’m gonna head out for a breather,” I deflected, quickly backing away before he could retaliate. “All this fog and lighting is messing with my already overactive brain.”

“I should probably check on Vick. Meet up with you later?”

I gave him a two-finger salute. “Happy hunting.”

Once he disappeared down the hallway, I dropped the act. Or rather, swapped it out for a much creepier one. With a satisfying spine crack, I let one arm hang limp and dragged my leg into a full-on zombie shuffle, groaning loud enough to startle a group of fairy girls in fishnets and body glitter. One let out a scream that felt like it came from her soul. Beautiful.

Two more scares later—one boy dropped his phone and the other tried to fend me off with a plastic pitchfork—I turned a corner and spotted a new target: a cluster of pink Mean Girls clones heading toward the gym. Jackpot.

I hunched my back, let one arm dangle low, and limped out of the shadows like I’d just clawed my way out of a grave. Then, with the kind of commitment that deserved at least a B-movie horror credit, I let out a gurgling, phlegm-coated moan that could’ve summoned an exorcist.

They screamed—loud, uncoordinated chaos—and then immediately screeched louder when they realized how I was dressed, heels skidding, clutching at each other like it was the end of days.

Lovely.

For about five seconds.

Then came the soul-sucking, vibe-murdering voice of Satan’s favorite cheerleader.

“Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with you?!”

Ugh. Michaela.

Of course it was her.

She stumbled back like I’d personally spit blood on her designer knockoffs, blinking in shock until she realized who I was. And, wow, what a surprise: instead of laughing it off like every other normal person tonight, Michaela’s wide eyes narrowed, her mouth twisted into a full snarl, and I swear I could feel my fake wound throbbing in protest at being subjected to her presence.

“You seriously need help, Gilbert,” she spat, pulling her pink rhinestone headband back into place. “Like, I knew you were weird, but this is next-level desperate. What, couldn’t get attention the normal way so you decided to play Halloween freak for clout? No one thinks this zombie crap is cool. You look like you rolled out of a dumpster.”

I raised an eyebrow, resisting the urge to bow.

One of her backup clones gasped. “Ew. I bet she actually practices those sounds in the mirror.”

“And sleeps in that crusty-ass makeup,” another added with a snicker.

Michaela didn’t even blink. “You know, I used to think you were just pathetic. Now I’m leaning toward tragic. Nobody talks to you, and when they do? It’s because they feel bad for you. Matt only hangs around because he’s too nice not to pity you. And Caroline and Bonnie? Please. They wouldn’t even look at you if you weren’t piggybacking off Elena’s popularity.”

Yeesh. A whole monologue. The girl was one hiss away from going full Disney villain.

I’d heard worse. But hearing it out loud in a crowd of other listening students always hit different—even when it came from the Discount Regina George Fan Club.

I gave her a slow blink and smiled sweetly. “Aw. That was so close to being a read. Do you wanna workshop it and try again, or should I just write you a better insult and let you take the credit?”

Michaela rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might black out. Then she spun on her heel and stomped off with all the theatrical grace of a Real Housewife exiting a reunion taping, muttering something that definitely included the words “weirdo” and “needs therapy.” Her minions trailed after her, doing that fake whisper-laugh thing that only worked if you didn’t hear them scream like toddlers sixty seconds ago.

My smile slowly dropped as I watched them leave. A rush of movement caught my eye off to the side—a student turning away from the scene and retreating in a hurry down the opposite hall. I narrowed my eyes. I knew that back. Stefan.

I straightened up, plastering my smile back on. I dusted off my imaginary trophy for “Most Dramatic Reaction Yet,” gave myself a mental round of applause, and decided that was a good note to retire on.

Some people just can’t appreciate performance art.

Satisfied with my reign of terror, I figured it was about time to find Bonnie and Caroline, seeing as they were the ones who roped me into coming tonight in the first place.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

It was just my luck the two were outside in easy view, stationed beside a massive cauldron full of candy. Very on-brand, considering they’d both gone full witch. I had a sneaking suspicion this was part of their cheerleader volunteer duties, which conveniently meant I could probably get away with stealing a fistful of candy with zero shame and only mild judgment.

Or so I thought.

I slowed mid-stride the second I spotted Tyler nearby, walking over to hand Caroline a drink. Ugh. Nope. Pass. Matt might’ve hit the forgiveness fast-forward button, but I was still somewhere between eh and throw a drink at him. Fortunately, he wandered off after delivering his beverage and not his lingering presence.

Once the coast was clear, I popped up behind them. “How’s it brewing, witches?”

Despite being genuinely innocent this time—Scout’s honor—they still both jumped. Caroline nearly yeeted her drink and Bonnie knocked candy out of the cauldron with the ladle she pretended to stir with.

“Oops. Sorry. Honest-to-goodness didn’t mean to jump scare you,” I explained with a laugh that definitely didn’t help my case.

“With that face?” Caroline sniffed, giving my zombie makeup the full once-over like it personally offended her. “I highly doubt that.”

Bonnie, bless her, actually laughed. “Okay, I’ll give it to you—it’s Halloween. We should’ve expected this. Definitely top five creepiest looks you’ve done.”

I gave her a dramatic bow, ratted ponytail flopping over my shoulder. “Why, thank you. Always a pleasure to horrify.”

Caroline still looked mildly annoyed, though the glare she aimed at me had softened into something closer to “ugh, fine, you got me.”

Trying not to smirk, I added, “Alright, maybe technically I should’ve known walking up behind you two was a prime spook opportunity.”

“Only you, Emery.” Caroline shook her head, her expression a mix of contained amusement and exasperation. “Whatever. Your timing is perfect. Help us pick out a new boy-toy for me tonight.”

Without breaking eye contact, I leaned against the cauldron and helped myself to a frankly criminal amount of candy. “Uh…” I dragged out, shoving a few fun-size bars into my pockets. “No.”

I picked up a Reese’s from the cauldron, unwrapped it, and popped it into my mouth like that was the final word on the matter.

Bonnie glanced at my stolen loot like she wanted to say something, but decided I was too far gone. Instead, she got that look in her eye. Mischief. Chaos. Trouble.

“I’m not sure you want Em’s help, Care. She’ll probably point you toward someone weird. Like that senior—Levi, right? The guy who jump-scared us at the end of the haunted hall.”

I coughed. Loudly. And not because of the peanut butter.

Okay. First Matt. Now Bonnie?

How did everyone clock me but me?

Caroline wrinkled her nose. “Levi Mills is cute, and I’ll give you the senior status—it’s a good flex. But that whole burn victim aesthetic? Not really my thing.” Then she tilted her head at me like a cat sizing up a bird. “You, though? Totally seems like your type. He’s been in practically all your art classes. And Alexa’s still crying about their breakup, so… clear runway.”

I let out a nervous laugh, caught just a little too off guard. Of course Caroline remembered something so insignificant; she and Bonnie walked with me to the art room daily, since their class was in the next hall. I just hadn’t realized I’d been under potential romantic surveillance.

“Oh really?” I feigned wide-eyed surprise. “Didn’t realize I had a type. Or that you were collecting data for my dating profile.”

Bonnie grinned. “Maybe it’s time you explored the possibilities. Levi’s got that whole creative-emo-skater thing going on. Very ‘starving artist meets tortured soul.’ You two might hit it off.”

I raised an eyebrow and reached into the cauldron again, tossing candy in the air like it was confetti and not potential cavities, unbothered by the pieces that fell to the ground or the looks I was getting for it. “Uh, yeah, I hate to break it to you guys, but we’re standing next to a bubbling candy cauldron surrounded by screaming teenagers in cheap wigs and costumes. This is not exactly the setting for true love’s kiss. It’s more goofy chaos and sugar-induced regret.”

Caroline gave me the patented look. The one that screamed “ugh, classic Emery deflection.”

“As if you wouldn’t find this romantic,” she commented, waving a hand around us dramatically. She shook her head. “Always deflecting, Emery. Just because your last boyfriend was a dud, doesn’t mean all of them will be. One of these days, you’ll have to face the fact that you can’t outrun love forever.”

“Please,” I snorted. “You were just asking me to help you find your next boy-toy. Don’t come at me with Hallmark-level aspirations now.”

Caroline held a hand delicately to her chest. “Excuse you, I am perfectly open to letting that kind of relationship bloom into love.”

“Yeah, well, I’m perfectly open to avoiding awkward flirting with someone I’ve spoken to maybe five times. I barely know him!”

Caroline rolled her eyes. “Not with that attitude, you won’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Bonnie cut in, the peacekeeper as always, though her smirk said she was thoroughly enjoying the show. “We’ll back off… for now. Just consider it.”

Caroline downed the rest of her drink with dramatic flair. “Fine,” she sighed, before straightening and unnecessarily adjusting her witch dress. “I think it’s finally time to dance. Who’s ready to grace the gym with our presence?”

Bonnie sighed. “I’ve still got twenty minutes stuck on cauldron duty before the next person takes over, but I’ll meet you there.”

The blonde quickly redirected her attention to me with expectant eyes.

My first instinct was to say hard pass… but then my gaze snagged on her hair—down, framing her face, brushing along her shoulders.

I couldn’t see the scars.

And I wondered, not for the first time, if they were still there. If she was still hiding them. If she was still trying to pretend like nothing happened.

“…Yeah. I’ll go with you.” I pasted on a grin. “Still got a lot of energy to burn. Might as well dance it out.”

Caroline’s whole face lit up. “Great! Let’s go. I need another drink first.” She shook her empty cup before turning and power-walking away. No pause. No backward glance. Full queen mode, expecting me to follow.

Bonnie mouthed a ‘thank you’ to me as I trailed after her.

I gave her a tiny salute and shot Matt a quick text to let him know what was up. Then I jogged ahead to slip into step beside Caroline.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

Dancing with Caroline—if I was being painfully honest with myself—was actually kind of great. She had a way of keeping the energy up and making you feel included in the movement. The music thumped hard enough to override any need for small talk, and all the potential for awkward, conflict inducing conversations was blessedly drowned out by bass drops and synths. Win-win.

We kept it going for maybe half an hour, still with no sign of Bonnie, until a few of her squad showed up. Sans Michaela, thankfully. They immediately pulled her into some vaguely choreographed dance, which I took as my sign from the universe to make a graceful exit. Or, okay, a slightly sweaty one.

I took outdoor gym exit, where the air was quieter, cooler, and the light way less neon. I pulled out my phone to check in with the sibs and friends. No texts. No calls. Nothing. I frowned and fired off a few messages.

Bonnie quickly replied to my ‘where you at’ text, letting me know she left early with a headache. Totally valid, but the message gave me weird déjà vu. Like the way she’d dipped out of the Founder’s Party early too. Girl was starting to make Irish exits into a personality trait.

Before I could delve further on that, my phone rang. Matt. I answered instantly.

“Hey, I was just about to text you. Where are you? I’ll meet you.”

I heard a long-suffering sigh in return. Uh-oh. Sighs before greetings were never good.

“I think Vicki bailed,” he began flatly.

I frowned. Vicki was certainly determined to ruin Matt’s good time at every turn.

“I’m sorry, Em. I don’t mean to kill the mood, but I’m just… not feeling it. I think I’m gonna leave early, check if she went home.”

I winced, already watching my night unravel like a snagged spiderweb. “Damn. Want me to come with?”

“Nah. I’m good. Don’t let me drag you down. Stay and have fun. I’ll talk to you later.”

And with that, he hung up.

I glanced back through the open doorway. Caroline was fully thriving, practically levitating as her friends cheered around her. She deserved that, after everything.

Me?

I no longer felt like partying. Any interest I had in rejoining the fun died somewhere between that phone call and the weird, creeping sense that something was off.

I tried Elena again. Voicemail.

I tried Jeremy again. Voicemail.

Cool. So now both my siblings were ghosting me. That didn’t trigger any anxiety.

I fished out a pack of Smarties—gross—and twisted it open, tossing them into my mouth near aggressively while my eyes swept the crowd.

After several minutes of fruitless wandering, I gave up and decided to find a familiar face; someone who could at least point me toward whichever corner of the school my siblings had vanished into. Easier said than done, thanks to all the appearance altering going on.

“Yo, Emery! Cool costume!”

I turned toward the custodial hallway, squinting into the crowd until I spotted the source—a guy in a fedora and a graphic tee with a printed bowtie. Lame.

I gave him a nod and started walking again. His grin faltered when I didn’t stop, which probably said a lot about his success rate. Something about his face tugged at my memory, though. I slowed, double-taking. One of Jeremy’s stoner friends, maybe?

His grin returned in full force as I walked over, and he elbowed the guy next to him. The friend looked me over, blinked, and said, “Whoa, creepy costu—”

“Thanks,” I cut in. “You guys seen Jeremy?”

“Oh, uh, yeah—” the friend started, but Fedora beat him to it.

“Yeah, saw him a few minutes ago. Vicki was dragging him that way.” He jerked a thumb toward the back doors leading to the bus lot, smirking. “Guess your brother finally scored, huh?”

I frowned at the exit. Only two reasons people went out there: drugs or make-outs. Neither were scenes I wanted burned into my brain, but… honestly, they both kind of deserved having their party rained on. Especially Vicki, after everything with Matt.

“Right. Thanks.”

“Hey, so we’re heading to the after party—gonna blow this joint and light a real one, ya know,” Fedora called after me. “You down—”

“Good for you,” I said flatly, already moving on. “Have fun.”

One of them snickered. It was followed by rustling fabric and the other muttering, “Dude, shut up,” as I turned the corner, my eyes locking on the glowing exit sign ahead.

Pushing on the heavy door, I only made it a few steps into the night before halting. A crouching, dark figure blocked the way. The door thunked shut behind me, sealing us in the dim light, and the person let out a long, put-upon groan.

I squinted. My eyes were still recovering from the flashing strobe lights and fake fog, so for a moment, all I saw was some dude in dark clothes having what looked like a crisis on the pavement. Honestly, relatable.

Then he turned slightly, his black leather jacket unmistakable as it caught a glint from the nearby light pole. I sighed.

“Oh, come on,” I muttered, then louder, “What the hell are you doing here? You do know this is a high school event, right? Shouldn’t you be at a bar or—God forbid—somewhere age-appropriate?”

No answer. He didn’t even look up. Which was weird, because Damon Salvatore never ignored an opening like that. My irritation started curling into unease.

I crossed my arms. “And don’t give me some bullshit about you being Stefan’s plus-one. As if.” I rolled my eyes and started walking closer. “You know, you’re really not helping you’re growing creep persona, Damon.”

That’s when I noticed the shoes. Black heeled boots.

“Ugh.” I groaned. “Please tell me you did not just crash a high school party to hook up with a new vic—”

The words caught, midair. My brain hit pause.

Because I knew those boots.

And the long brown hair spilling across the asphalt.

And the costume—the same cheap vampire getup from last year.

“Vicki?” My voice cracked halfway through her name.

She didn’t move.

My stomach dropped.

Damon’s head dipped as he released another groan, followed by a barely audible, “Christ. You have the worst timing.”

He finally stood, slow and deliberate, and the second I saw her face, really saw it, the nightly ambiance dropped dead silent.

She wasn’t just pale. She looked… wrong. Gray, ashen complexion. Bulging veins spiderwebbing beneath her skin like something venomous had burrowed under there. My mind scrambled for something rational—makeup, lighting, allergic reaction, super-dedicated Halloween prank—but my body already knew better.

I knew what I was looking at when I finally met her darkened, blank gaze, but something deeper, instinctive, refused to process it. The world narrowed around the sound of my own increasing heartbeat as I froze in place. Unbidden, a word long out of place wormed its way into the echo chamber:

“Daddy?”

My breath went stuttery: short, shallow, useless. Everything seemed to tilt sideways, and voices—distant, muffled—pushed through like static from a bad radio.

“Grayson, what was that sound—” A gasp.

“Get back in the house.” Harsh. Commanding.

Then, gentler: “Emie, go to your mom.”

I didn’t know where they came from or why they slotted so easily into the forefront of my thoughts, as if they’d been waiting there this whole time.

“Why does he look like that? Is he sick?”

“Don’t look, sweetheart. Miranda—call Abby and Liz. Now.”

The names tumbled through me, meaningless and familiar all at once, those voices looping and layering until I couldn’t tell if I was standing in the present or somewhere far older. I stared at Vicki’s face, unblinking, as if moving would make the ground collapse from beneath me.

Ashy skin.

Bulging veins.

“Hello? Earth to space cadet?”

Black, unseeing eyes.

Sharp, elongated canines.

My tongue felt heavy. My fingers tingled. My brain fuzzed into a single, blaring tone, blank and screaming at the same time.

“Out of all you Gilberts… Never pegged you as the one to go full fawn mode. You’re usually a mouthy one. Thought you’d at least yell and throw a punch.”

“Call Abby.”

“Hey. Munchkin. C’mon.”

The memory and the moment tangled, faces blurred, until everything froze on a single image. Ashen skin. Bulging veins. Unseeing eyes.

A man—no. Not a man. Vicki.

Oh my god. Vicki.

“Okay. That’s it.”

Matt thought she bailed on him.

Matt… What am I going to tell Matt?

“Don’t look.”

A sharper voice broke through the static, much closer this time.

“Emery. Snap out of it. Focus.”

The moment my eyes locked with Damon’s, the world constricted. My vision tunneled, drawn tight into the space between his commanding words. His pupils were blown wide, swallowing the blue.

And just like that, the noise in my head vanished. The panic muted, replaced by eerie, surgical calm. I blinked. Once. Twice. My vision adjusted, landing on the curve of his jaw, the irritated downturn of his mouth, the press of his hands anchoring my upper arms.

I inhaled sharply. Focus.

The scene before me crystallized; details flooded in faster than I could sort them.

Vicki Donovan. Pale—no visible pulse. No rise or fall in her chest. The veins… extensive. Not an overdose. Not alcohol poisoning. Not an illness. Unnatural.

Her mouth was rimmed red, her costume corset soaked through, blood dark and metallic-smelling. Too real to be spirit gum or fake syrup. Was she stabbed?

And Damon, he’d been crouched over her. Calm. Way too calm for someone finding a body behind the school buses. He looked tense, yes, but not panicked. Not messy. No blood on his hands. No weapon in sight. Which meant… what, exactly?

He shouldn’t even be here. Why was he here? This was wrong. He should’ve been calling for help. Unless… unless he’d already tried to help her. Right. Because when I showed up, I was having a meltdown the size of a minor earthquake and his attention turned to snapping me out of it. Great timing, Emery. Gold medal performance.

What even was that? A memory of my parents? The gruesome sight, those veins, itched somewhere deep. Familiar in a way that scraped nerves I didn’t know existed. Something I felt like I should remember, but couldn’t.

Why couldn’t I remember? What was I doing last?

Right. I came out here looking for Jeremy.

Jeremy.

My heart kicked, finally catching up. Jeremy should’ve been here. With her.

My gaze darted across the buses, the parking lot, shadows and lights blurring together. “Damon,” I blurted out, the word rough. “Where’s Jeremy?”

He could’ve seen this. Or worse—

Don’t think it.

I swallowed hard, fumbling for my phone with shaking hands.

Call 911. That’s what normal, functioning people do, right? Call the cops, get help, try not to hyperventilate over the dead body behind the school buses. Focus. Act. Pretend you didn’t almost faint into the void.

My thumb hovered over the screen—then froze.

My ring.

It was gone.

“Alright, a little too focused,” Damon scoffed, his tone less commanding, more exasperated. A hand came down on my phone, stopping the motion cold while another lifted my chin. His gaze snagged mine. “Dial it down, munchkin. Just… stand there and listen, yeah?”

My body went still again, this time with intent. Compliance. The urgency slipped away, leaving stillness in its wake. I waited.

“That’s better.” He exhaled, half relief, half annoyance. “Your brother’s fine. Mostly.” His eyes swept over me, unimpressed. “You, on the other hand… definitely not. A dead body right in front of you, and you’re first thought is to ask me where you’re brother is?”

He shook his head, then paused mid-motion, tilting it as he gave me a slow, once-over. His gaze settled on the fake bite on my arm, and one corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re a weird one. Weird, but talented. Maybe I will cash in that raincheck someday.” He shrugged. “Could be fun.”

I would’ve gaped—probably thrown in a “seriously?” for good measure at the random call back to our first meeting—if my brain hadn’t decided to take an unscheduled coffee break. Instead, I hung off his every word like an idiot, my hands faintly trembling while my pulse stayed unnervingly steady under the surface.

Somewhere between the buses, faint laughter echoed, too cheerful and completely wrong for a scene that looked like a deleted CSI episode. Damon’s expression darkened instantly.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, his voice now laced with venom. He looked between me and Vicki like we were math problems giving him a migraine. “Do one nice thing, clean up one mess, and suddenly it’s teen soap hour again. This,” he gestured vaguely at both of us, “is why I don’t help people. Stefan’s lucky this little scenario doesn’t fit in with my plan.”

I realized I still hadn’t moved. I was just standing there like an unplugged robot, eyes darting between Damon and Vicki’s unnatural pallor.

Don’t look, sweetheart.

Miranda—call Abby and Liz. Now.

I wasn’t sure who Abby was. Liz though… Sheriff Liz I knew. I needed to call the police. Except… Damon had already stopped me from doing that.

And Damon—he had done terrible things before. Whatever happened here, I had no doubt now that he wasn’t innocent. That weird, growing unease that had slowly simmered under my skin the longer I was around him? Yeah, turns out it came from a much darker place than “guy who doesn’t understand personal space.”

My stomach twisted at that realization, the air thinning until it felt like I was breathing through a straw.

Wow. Yep. We’re doing this. Full-on freakout mode. Except apparently my body missed the memo, because instead of running or screaming, I was just… buffering.

Some small, rational corner of my brain kept whispering that I should be panicking. That there was a dead body on the ground: my best friend’s sister, the girl I spend days searching for, who had clearly just been murdered in the school bus lot. And that the guy currently making sarcastic commentary over said body might’ve been responsible.

But I couldn’t feel it. The fear was muted, filed down to a clinical hum as I waited for him to keep speaking. To just stand here and listen to what he had to say.

…This wasn’t right.

I wasn’t the type to ‘stand there and listen’ when shit was going down.

Was I in shock?

Or… was he doing this to me?

When his eyes returned to me, they narrowed. He took a step closer, the picture of a man personally victimized by my continued existence.

“God, you Gilberts are a nightmare,” he remarked, aggravated. “One storms off on her self-righteous soapbox, one’s probably crying into a hoodie somewhere, and then there’s you—Miss Terrible-timing—wandering straight into the aftermath without a single clue. It’s like the world’s worst family talent show, and congratulations, compared to your sister’s reaction, you’re now the headliner.”

His tone was dry, but there was a dangerous aura to it, the kind of brittle anger that came from sheer mental exhaustion.

“Seriously,” he went on, raking a hand through his hair. “I turn one girl, and suddenly it’s the end of the world.”

My brain registered the words, hanging off of every syllable, but not the meaning. I was definitely missing context. Was he saying that my siblings where both here?

Wait… turn?

My gaze flicked to Vicki: the fangs, the blood, the not-breathing. And suddenly the word didn’t sound metaphorical anymore. My pulse climbed, rabbit-fast.

“You know, you were supposed to be the fun one.” Pacing now, his voice grew almost conversational. “The quippy, unflappable one with a spine. Not the deer-in-headlights routine the second things get interesting.”

His boots crunched on the asphalt as he swiftly turned back, face tight. “You learning the truth was supposed to be entertaining for me. Preferably because Stefan and Elena couldn’t keep their little secrets, not because I got slopp—”

He cut himself off, jaw flexing. The laughter grew louder, his eyes darting to the source.

“I hate when the script goes off book.”

In the blink of an eye, he was just there. Right in front of me. So close I could see a faint smear of blood on his collar. My pulse stuttered. I couldn’t even flinch.

How the fuck did he do that?

“Fuck it. Here’s the deal,” he mused, voice lower now, almost gentle in the way a storm sometimes is before it hits. “I’ve got one dead vampire to take care of on my to-do list—” His words cut off whatever part of my brain was still clinging to normal. My eyes went wide. This wasn’t Halloween hyperbole, was it? “—and I’m not adding you to it. Another corpse would only complicate my already ruined evening.”

He waved a hand between us. “So let’s just… hit reset, hm?”

I blinked, confused, until his pupils bloomed wide, a bottomless well pulling me deeper in.

“You’re going to go back into the school,” he instructed softly, each syllable careful, “and forget everything that happened since you walked out that door.”

The words sank in, smoothly clicking into place with the singular need to fulfill them.

The tension in my muscles vanished, my heart slowed. My body turned of its own accord, steps unhurried as I walked back toward the building.

Behind me, I heard a murmured, “Stay blissfully ignorant, munchkin.”

The door clicked shut.

Inside, voices chattered, music pulsed, and colored lights flickered over fake spiders and cobwebs.

I walked through the fog, blank-faced and hollow-eyed.

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘

I don’t know how long I drifted through the halls; long enough for my feet to forget where they were going, maybe. The music had changed, the crowd had thinned, and I was just… wandering.

Somewhere in the entrance lobby, between the snack table and a very confused Frankenstein staring at me, my brain finally hit “resume.”

What was I doing again?

I blinked, taking in the decorations, the punch bowl, the crumbs on the treat platters. My pulse gave a little jump, like I’d missed a few minutes of a movie and was trying to bluff my way through the plot.

Right. Elena. Jeremy. I was still looking for them.

I glanced toward the doors, a faint chill prickling at the back of my neck. If they weren’t inside, maybe they’d gone out for air. Or maybe they were chilling in the car.

I pushed through the heavy doors and stepped into the night, halting for a weirdly confusing second at the action, before shaking my head and continuing toward the parking lot.

A few minutes later, I learned they were, in fact, not doing either.

Because the SUV was gone.

The second I registered the absence, a stinging sensation overcame my nose. Not a great sign.

I stood there under the orange-ish parking lot lights, trying very hard not to immediately jump to they’ve been kidnapped! as the reason my siblings were MIA. But the slightly more realistic explanation of they bailed on me too wasn’t exactly comforting either.

Why would Elena just leave me? And with Jeremy? Or maybe he left with Vicki. Or maybe Elena went to find them. But why not tell me? After our little heart-to-heart earlier, I thought we were back to sibling solidarity, not cold shoulders and Houdini acts.

Calls? Still going straight to voicemail. Texts? Read nowhere.

I stared at my phone, weighing my options. Call Jenna? Alert the cops? Do a frustrated scream into the void?

Before I could spiral into full panic over my next move, a familiar flash of red caught my eye. Tyler Lockwood stood near one of the portable fire pits, talking to a group of his jock friends like the world wasn’t maybe ending. He probably meant to be a gladiator, but that cape? That was giving Little Red Football Bro.

Ugh. Did I want to talk to him? No. Did I have literally anyone else out here I wanted to ask for info instead? Also no.

So, I swallowed the part of my pride still holding a grudge and made my way over.

“Tyler,” I called out, trying to sound breezy and not potentially on the verge of a breakdown.

He turned, surprised. “Hey, Emery.” His eyes darted to the cup in his hand—definitely not rootbeer—and then uncomfortably around us, before landing back on me. “You, uh… enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, it’s been… eventful,” I replied, forcing a smile to keep my composure. “You wouldn’t happen to have seen Elena or Jeremy, would you? They’re both ghosting me, and not in the fun Halloween way.”

“I saw Elena a little while ago. Went that way—” He gestured toward the lot I had just left. “You guys came together, right?”

I nodded, jaw tightening. “Yup. Car’s gone.”

Tyler’s brows lifted. “Oh. That’s… not great. Do you need a ride?”

I glanced at the drink in his hand, raising an eyebrow. “Unless your cup only has soda in it, I’ll pass.”

He chuckled awkwardly, looking like he wanted to say more, but instead just shrugged. “Well… let me know if you change your mind.”

“Sure,” I muttered, already backing away from the uncomfortable interaction.

I found a bench a bit away from all the activity and sat down to take a moment to reel my emotions in. I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions, but it certainly felt like my siblings left me hanging. I imagined this was almost exactly how Matt felt when he called me about Vicki.

I thumbed out a text to Matt.

“guess my sibs bailed on me too :/”

I slumped against the bench with a sigh, glaring at the stars like they were somehow responsible.

A few minutes passed before he replied:

“oh shit sry wasnt even thinkin when I called u. saw elena earlier, said she was going home after some1 poured fake blood on her”

I glared at the screen. That’s it? She left because of fake blood? On Halloween? Did she think this was a white-tie gala?

Before I could roll my eyes any harder, another message popped up:

“sry em. I’ll be back soon n take u home”

I hesitated, staring down at my phone. I could’ve said yes. I could’ve waited. But I didn’t want to. My mood was so extremely sour right, I didn’t want to drag him down further with me.

“nah think im gonna walk. need time alone.”

A second later:

“u sure thats safe?”

Ugh, Matt, you sweet, responsible, aggravating little golden retriever of a human.

“yea theres still adults out w kids trick or treating. i’ll be fine.”

It wouldn’t be the first time I walked home from the school alone, though it was always during the day when I did. Dad always stressed that he didn’t want us walking around by ourselves at night, or at all really. But I was older now, and… he wasn’t around to uphold a curfew anymore.

There was a pause, longer this time. I imagined him debating whether or not to fight me on it.

Finally: “ok. but txt me when u get home. fr em.”

I cracked a smile.

“u got it.”

With that, I pocketed my phone and fished out a Dum-Dum’s sucker from the candy I’d swiped earlier. Watermelon. Solid choice. I popped it in my mouth and gave myself mental kudos for wearing sensible shoes. Cute ankle boots are great and all—until you’re stranded by your emotionally complicated family and suddenly living out a potential slasher movie on Halloween night.

But I wasn’t actually worried.

As I started my walk home, the shift in vibe was immediate. Gone was the chaotic thump of bass and sugar-fueled teen chatter. Out here, it was cool air, chirping crickets, rustling leaves, distant footsteps and giggling from trick-or-treaters. Porch lights glowed across the neighborhood like tiny stage spotlights, casting jagged shadows through inflatable ghosts and impressively carved jack-o’-lanterns. There was enough Halloween ambiance to make a Spirit store weep with pride.

It was peaceful. I was starting to feel… better. Some people would probably be creeped out walking alone on Halloween night, but me? The solo walk was actually doing wonders improving my mood.

I stuck to the familiar route, losing myself in the rhythm of sneakers on pavement and the occasional “Slow down!” from a tired parent wrangling over-hyped toddlers. With each block into the neighborhood, my surroundings grew darker, and I picked up my pace a little, knowing that the towns trick-or-treating ordinance was coming to an end.

By the time my house finally came into view, I’d shaved a good ten minutes off the trek with some determined power-walking. Our porch light glowed like a beacon, practically whispering, Come inside, there’s candy and Halloween movies waiting for you.

I shot Matt a quick “made it home, still alive” text and started to cross the street.

Only to nearly freeze halfway across the road when I heard voices.

Because guess who was already on my porch.

Elena.

Sitting with Stefan.

And oh—look, there’s Damon, strolling out of my house like it was any other casual night and we weren’t all absolutely pissed off at him.

I slowly approached, jaw clenched, right in time to hear Damon say something that sounded like, “It’s done.”

Okay. Cool. We’re just announcing ominous one-liners on my porch now?

Fueled by a delightful cocktail of confusion, irritation, hurt, and sheer pettiness, I stormed up the walkway, eyes locked on them as I mentally drafted a restraining order.

“What’s done?” I asked, voice cold enough to make the autumn breeze jealous.

Elena shot up from the bench, as if she’d just remembered I existed. “Oh my god, Em—”

“No,” I snapped, glaring daggers. “Don’t ‘oh my god, Em’ me. What the hell, Elena?”

Her mouth dropped open, doe eyes widening in—realization, maybe? Guilt? Gas? I don’t know, I was pissed. She looked me over again like it had only just occurred to her that I was standing there covered in zombie makeup, still very much abandoned and annoyed.

“I’m so, so sorry,” she blurted out quickly. “Things got complicated and I just forgot and—”

“Forgot to text me that you—my ride—were leaving? Or that you weren’t lying in a ditch somewhere?” I threw my arms up. “Wow. Cool. I only called you like, I don’t know, fifteen times while trying to figure out if you’d been abducted by killer clowns or some shit.”

Elena winced. “Someone dumped fake blood on me, okay? It was stupid, I panicked and ran for the car. Jeremy found me on the way. He’s here now. He’s really upset. I think Vic—” she swallowed thickly, eyes dropping, “I think Vicki might’ve broken up with him.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Damon’s brow raise at her words, as if he was silently filing that away for later. You and me both, buddy.

Wait. Why were they even here?

When I focused back on Elena, really taking her in, my irritation started to melt just a little. She was clutching herself like she’d been sucker punched, and her voice had gone all soft and small. Damn it.

“Are you okay?” The words escaped before I could decide whether or not I still wanted to be mad. “Did you get hurt?”

She shook her head, avoiding eye contact. “Just… overwhelmed. And with Jeremy all upset too, I wasn’t exactly thinking straight when we left.”

Exhaling, I tried to sift through my irritation and the creeping sense that something was still off. I turned to the two very serious looking gargoyles standing at the edge of our porch, reenacting some modern gothic drama.

“And you two?” My eyes flickered from Damon to Stefan, then briefly to Elena. “Why are the Brothers Grimm here?”

Damon, who up until now hadn’t even glanced at me, seemingly playing the strong silent type (which was honestly kind of unsettling), finally peeled himself off the porch column with a smirk that appeared… off. Half-hearted at best. “Wow. ‘Brothers Grimm.’ Harsh. Accurate. I kinda like it.”

I gave him a flat look. “Not an answer.”

“Alright, alright,” he drawled, sauntering a few steps closer, his gaze passing over me once, barely at all, before gluing onto Elena. “We were out haunting the local festivities like the friendly townies we are.” He shrugged. “Thought we’d say ‘hi’. And hey, good thing we did. Your sister clearly needed the support after her…” he eyed Elena’s bloody get-up, “unfortunate Carrie moment.”

Stefan shot him the harshest side-eye I’d ever seen, while Damon simply returned it with the world’s worst attempt at another innocent shrug.

I blinked. “What a totally non-suspicious and not-at-all-stalker-y coincidence.”

Stefan jumped to diffuse the tension, “It really was a coincidence, Emery. We didn’t—”

“Really now?” I cut in again, because apparently that was my new party trick. “This is my house, Stefan. Not Mystic Falls High: After Party. You both popping up out of nowhere the second Elena has a meltdown feels a little too perfectly timed.”

I didn’t have a clue what I was trying to insinuate, but my anger didn’t care about the logic of it all right now.

Elena stepped forward, eyes pleading and hands up as she tried to defuse a ticking bomb. “Emery, please. They were only trying to help. I didn’t mean to worry you, I swear.”

I crossed my arms and raised a brow. “Well, you did. And now you’re all standing out here like the Mystery Gang just wrapped up a mission, except no one wants to pull the mask off. So what’s the real story?”

Damon let out a snort, but it didn’t carry its usual smug sparkle with his oddly subdued mood. “There’s that fiery spirit.”

I stared at him. Hard. “I’m not in the mood for your lip, Damon.”

He smirked again, and I swear I heard him mutter something that sounded like, “She’s never in the mood,” before he glanced at Stefan with a look that practically screamed, well, go ahead and lie better.

Stefan chimed back in with Olympic-level smoothness. “We didn’t randomly show up here. I saw what happened at school with the fake blood, and I wanted to make sure Elena was okay.”

I thought back to my jump scare toward the Mean Girls, recalling the way Stefan walked off from the scene. At least I knew he was actually at the school.

“And we did,” Damon added with a shrug. “Now everything’s back to normal.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “‘Normal’ is a pretty generous term for whatever this vibe is.”

I gestured to the trio: my emotionally wrecked sister, her too-noble-for-his-own-good maybe-boyfriend, and his walking red flag of a brother who looked like he had a secret stashed in every one of those leather coat pockets.

I shook my head.

“So let me get this straight—” I steepled my fingers, channeling my inner detective as I gestured lazily between them, “—you two were hanging out at a high school Halloween party—together. Witnessed a kid dumb blood on my sister à la Stephen King, and then thought, ‘You know what would really tie the night together? Following Elena home for an awkward porch reunion at the Gilbert house, sans the obviously-missing-middle-child.’”

I pointed at Stefan. “Even though you broke up.” Then I turned to Damon, arching a brow. “And you, who no one in their right mind wants within a ten-mile radius.”

Elena jumped in, her voice soft and overly reasonable: classic deflection mode. “It happened so fast, and Stefan and Damon offered to make sure Jeremy and I got home safely. I didn’t mean for it to become such a big deal.”

I could’ve believed Elena’s story—really, I wanted to—but the Salvatore brothers standing here wasn’t helping anything.

My bullshit radar was flashing like a cop car on the Fourth of July. Stefan being here? Okay, I could maybe buy that. Feelings were weird and messy and didn’t just vanish overnight. But Damon? Damon, who burned every bridge, salted the earth, and then did donuts over the ashes? He wasn’t here simply for moral support.

And the fact that neither of them seemed angered or shocked by his presence? Huge red flag. Like, “siren blaring, put this whole thing under federal investigation” red flag.

Elena’s hand gently gripped my arm, grounding me before I could spiral into a full internal FBI interrogation. Her expression was earnest—tired, but sincere. “I’m really sorry, Em. Please, can we let it go? It’s been a long night. I didn’t mean to cause you stress. It won’t happen again.”

I gave her a long look. She was doing that thing with her other hand, fidgeting near her stomach like she was trying to physically hold herself together. Great. Now I was losing steam. Again.

I sighed, my anger starting to fizzle out and morph into something worse: reluctant sympathy. She was still trembling slightly, and it was honestly hard to stay mad when she looked like a walking horror movie extra—fake blood on her nurse dress, towel over her shoulders as if she escaped a war zone. “Fine, I’ll drop it. Just… next time, shoot me a text or write it in blood on the wall or something. I was genuinely worried.”

Elena nodded, giving my arm a thankful squeeze. “I will, Em. I promise.”

Damon, who’d been tuning us out like a bored toddler in church, finally pushed off the porch post with a little stretch. “Now that we’ve got the concerned sister act over, I’ll be on my way. Places to be and what not.” He stopped next to me, eyes flicking down to the bite on my arm. “Love the gore, by the way. Though maybe in poor taste now, considering… well, tonight.”

Uh, what?

Damon gave one last glance back to a glaring Elena, his expression unreadable, before walking down the path.

Without giving it much thought, I fished a candy from my pocket and lobbed it hard at his head. My aim was perfect. Unfortunately, so were his reflexes. To my surprise and dismay, he snatched it midair without even turning fully around.

I frowned. I really wanted it to hit him.

“Trick or treat,” he said over his shoulder, flashing the wrapped candy with a lazy wave. “Enjoy the rest of your Halloween, Gilberts.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at Damon’s nonchalant departure, catching the candy as if he had received a gift and not an attempt at retaliation. It was such a classic Damon move, and for a moment, it almost felt like things were back to the way they were when we first met, when I thought I was making a new friend.

Then he disappeared into the night, and my scowl deepened.

Why did I throw a Reese’s at him? A Reese’s! That was premium candy. He didn’t deserve premium. He deserved a stale Tootsie Roll or—worse—Smarties.

Stefan sighed, watching his brother leave, then turned his attention back to me, offering a small apologetic smile that did little to kill the lingering tension.

Something about tonight itched at the base of my skull. I glanced at my sister. She still seemed visibly shaken, hugging herself tightly. That wasn’t prank-level spook. That ‘prankster’ must of done something worse to get this reaction out of her, something she wasn’t willing to share with me for some reason.

At my silence, Elena and Stefan shared a look, one that practically glowed with don’t-say-anything telepathy.

Or maybe I was overreacting about this entire thing. Maybe I was just looking for something to stay mad about because it was easier than admitting I hated being left out from my own family.

I shook my head at the two, deciding to cut my losses for the night. If Elena was telling the truth, I still needed to talk to Jeremy. A few hours ago, he was so excited to see Vicki. I can only imagine his state now.

“I’m gonna go check on Jeremy,” I announced, drawing their attention away from each other. For a couple that supposedly broke up, they were standing awfully close.

“Yeah, I should too,” Elena told Stefan, almost regretfully.

Stefan leaned toward her, his voice all hopeful and gentle. “Can I call you later?”

Elena give him a tired little smile. “Yeah.”

His whole face lit up. “Goodnight. Emery. Elena.” He nodded to me, his gaze then lingering on my sister as he slowly turned to the steps.

Elena went inside first, but I stalled, glancing back. I shut the door halfway, walking to the edge of the porch again.

“Stefan,” I called, making him pause mid-step on the walkway.

He turned, expression curious.

I folded my arms. “I know there’s something you’re all not telling me. And I’ll let it go, for now. But there’s one thing I don’t want you lying about.”

Stefan sobered instantly at my tone. “What’s that?”

He didn’t even deny the first part. Noted.

I stepped down one stair, my gaze unwavering. “That you genuinely want to make sure Elena is okay.”

Stefan’s deep-set eyes bore back into mine. “I promise you, Emery.” His voice was so steady and solemn, it stopped me from taking a second step down. “I care for Elena. Deeply. And I’ll always be there when she needs me.”

It felt honest. Sincere. And for a half-second, I let myself believe him.

I nodded once. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I still didn’t like the whole situation, but if Elena wasn’t going to let me—her twin—help, I could only hope Stefan would be trustworthy enough in my place.

Digging into my pocket, I pulled out one last piece of candy. My final Reese’s. Ugh. Why couldn’t I have saved that roll of Smarties for this moment?

I sighed and tossed it toward him anyway. “Happy Halloween, Stefan.”

He caught it easily, brows lifting as if he hadn’t expected that. Then he let out a short, stifled laugh, smiling at me. “Thanks, Emery.”

I didn’t reply. Just nodded, turned, and slipped inside.

The house was quiet—eerily so. I could only hear the faint creak of the floorboards beneath my shoes. I closed the door and leaned back against it, letting out a shaky exhale. The promise of a fun Halloween felt like it belonged to someone else entirely.

My hands found each other automatically, fingers fidgeting for the soothing twist of my ring.

Nothing.

My breath caught. I patted my pockets frantically, heart thudding faster with each failed attempt, hoping against hope it was still on my person. It had never slipped off before.

After what felt like the longest five seconds of my life, my fingertips brushed the smooth edge of the band in that tiny pocket no one actually uses. Relief nearly buckled my knees.

I pulled it out carefully, slid it back onto my finger, and stared at the opal until my breathing evened.

When the hell had I taken it off?

∘₊✧──────✧∘☾₊∘⛤∘₊☽∘✧──────✧₊∘