We walked another block before Xavian spoke again.

  “Where are we eating?”

  I glanced over at him.

  “Willow’s.”

  He frowned slightly.

  “What is Willow’s?”

  “You’ll see.”

  That clearly didn’t satisfy him, but he followed anyway as I turned down the next street. The familiar neon sign came into view again, glowing faintly above the diner windows.

  I pointed toward it.

  “There.”

  Xavian studied the small building with mild curiosity.

  “This?”

  “Yes.”

  “It looks… old.”

  “It is.”

  “And you like it.”

  “Yes.”

  He gave a small shrug.

  “Then we will try it.”

  I pushed open the door, the small bell chiming above us as we stepped inside.

  The diner was busier than earlier. A couple of construction workers sat near the counter, and a young family filled one of the booths near the back. The air smelled like coffee, butter, and something frying on the grill.

  Xavian paused just behind me, his eyes moving slowly across the room.

  “You’re going to like it,” I told him.

  “We will see.”

  “They have the best food,” I said.

  “I know vampires don’t really eat,” I added quickly, “but—”

  “I enjoy food,” he cut in.

  I blinked.

  “Oh.”

  “Just because we do not require it does not mean we cannot enjoy it.”

  “That’s actually comforting.”

  His mouth curved faintly.

  Rae noticed us almost immediately.

  Her smile appeared automatically as she walked over, a coffee pot still in one hand.

  Then she saw who I was sitting with.

  Her eyebrow lifted.

  But she didn’t make a scene.

  Instead she grabbed two menus and gestured toward an open booth near the window.

  “Sit wherever,” she said casually.

  We slid into the booth across from each other.

  Rae set the menus down in front of us.

  “A server will be right over.”

  Her eyes flicked briefly between us before she walked back toward the counter.

  Xavian watched her go.

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  Xavian picked up the menu like he was studying an unfamiliar document.

  His eyes moved slowly across the page, scanning every line with quiet curiosity.

  “You have a great deal of options,” he said.

  “That’s the point.”

  Before he could say anything else, someone stepped up beside the table.

  “Hi guys, my name is Ricky, I’ll be your server today.”

  I looked up.

  And immediately recognized him.

  Ricky.

  He was the son of one of the church members.

  My stomach dropped slightly.

  Great.

  He was trying to act normal, but the way his eyes flicked over me made it clear he knew exactly who I was.

  Probably exactly what people were saying too.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I said quickly.

  “A water.”

  Ricky nodded and turned slightly toward Xavian.

  “And for you?”

  “Water as well,” Xavian said calmly.

  Ricky scribbled something down.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  He walked away toward the kitchen.

  I exhaled slowly.

  Xavian watched him go.

  “You know him,” he said.

  “Unfortunately.”

  “From where?”

  “Just… around.”

  That was vague enough.

  I picked up the menu again.

  “I’m paying,” Xavian said.

  I looked up.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I can pay.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Do not insult me right now.”

  I blinked.

  “That’s dramatic.”

  “You invited me.”

  “That’s not how restaurants work.”

  “It is today.”

  I leaned back slightly.

  “You’re very intense about buying pancakes.”

  “Food is your treatment,” he said simply.

  “And I am ensuring you follow medical advice.”

  I sighed.

  “You’re as bad as Eric.”

  “Who?”

  “The doctor.”

  Xavian nodded once.

  “He seemed competent.”

  That was one way to describe him.

  Ricky came back a few minutes later with our waters and a small notepad tucked into his apron.

  He set the glasses down carefully.

  “Have you guys decided?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah. Pancakes.”

  “Just pancakes?”

  “For now.”

  He scribbled it down and turned toward Xavian.

  “And for you?”

  Xavian glanced down at the menu one last time before sliding it toward the center of the table.

  “The same.”

  Ricky blinked slightly.

  “The pancakes?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alright.”

  He wrote it down, gave us another polite nod, and disappeared toward the kitchen again.

  I wrapped both hands around my glass and took a long drink of water. My body felt like it had been running on fumes for days, and the coolness helped a little.

  Across from me, Xavian was watching the diner like it was a theater.

  People talking quietly. Silverware clinking against plates. Coffee machines hissing in the background.

  It was all very normal.

  And yet somehow strange with him sitting there.

  “What?” I finally asked.

  “You are comfortable here.”

  I shrugged.

  “I grew up around places like this.”

  “That man recognized you.”

  “Most people around here do.”

  “That must be inconvenient.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, then leaned back slightly against the booth.

  For a moment he didn’t say anything.

  Then he spoke again.

  “Tell me something about your life.”

  I blinked.

  “That’s a very broad question.”

  “You complained earlier that my answers were short.”

  “That’s fair.”

  I thought about it for a moment.

  “There’s not much to say. I went to school, started writing, eventually got hired at the paper.”

  Xavian tilted his head slightly.

  “That is your work.”

  “Yes.”

  “I asked about your life.”

  I frowned a little.

  “That is my life.”

  “I doubt that.”

  I sighed and leaned back in the booth.

  “What do you want me to say?”

  He didn’t answer right away.

  Instead he rested his forearms lightly on the table and looked at me with that same thoughtful expression he used when he was clearly circling a question he hadn’t asked yet.

  “For example,” he said casually, “I go to temple sometimes.”

  That caught me off guard.

  “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s… surprising.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re a vampire.”

  “And?”

  “I just didn’t expect religion to still be a thing for you.”

  Xavian shrugged slightly.

  “It’s quiet. Reflective.”

  He lifted his glass and took a slow sip of water.

  “Do you enjoy temple?”

  The question hung there.

  Simple.

  Casual.

  But something about the way he watched me made it clear he wasn’t asking randomly.

  He was fishing.

  And suddenly my pancakes felt a long way off.

  For a moment I just stared at him.

  My mind immediately jumped to the same thought.

  Cazaro told him.

  He had found the Bible.

  The cross.

  The notes.

  Maybe he had already told his brother.

  Maybe this whole conversation was a trap and I had walked straight into it.

  But I couldn’t be sure.

  Xavian was watching me calmly, waiting for my answer.

  “I don’t practice religion,” I said finally.

  My voice sounded steady, even if my stomach had started tying itself into knots.

  “The gods seem… unreal.”

  Xavian tilted his head slightly.

  “You have no religion?” he asked.

  I leaned back a little in the booth.

  “That is the only religion.”

  His brow lifted.

  “The only religion?”

  “Yes.”

  I held his gaze.

  “Is it not?”

  The words came out softer than I expected, but I meant them as a deflection.

  If he thought I practiced something else, something secret, I wasn’t about to confirm it.

  Xavian studied my face for another moment, his eyes narrowing just slightly as if he were trying to read something behind the words.

  Then Ricky appeared beside the table again with two plates stacked high with pancakes.

  “Here we go,” he said cheerfully.

  The plates landed in front of us.

  Butter melting slowly into the warm stacks.

  Syrup already pooling around the edges.

  The smell alone made my stomach tighten with sudden hunger.

  For now at least, the conversation paused.