“I’m pretty sure Morpheus is behind most of it,” I say, and then explain the worries over guardianship and the report from my school counselor.
Worrying one of the piercings in his lower lip, Paris crosses his arms over his chest and appears contemplative. “You’re still planning to go to Eastpoint, right?” he asks.
“I’m not sure, but the guys and I… we want to.”
Paris sighs. “If you’d come to Hazelwood, I could help you more, but if you’re set on Eastpoint, then I can reach out to some contacts there.”
“Actually, I already have one, I think,” I say. “Do you know a man named Mitchell Vikson?”
Paris’ jaw drops. “Viks? How the fuck do you know that guy?”
“You know him then?” I repeat. “He’s apparently Lex’s uncle, or so he’s said.”
Paris smacks his forehead and shoves a hand through his hair as he gazes up at the ceiling. “Small fucking world,” he mutters, almost to himself.
“He’s legit then?”
“Yeah, he’s legit,” Paris answers, looking back to me. “I don’t know him personally, but I know of him. He runs with the Eastpoint Heirs. Works for them, but if he thinks he’s your boyfriend’s uncle, he’d have no reason to lie. From what I know, Viks isn’t the kind of guy that goes out his way to claim family. He’s made his own.” Paris’ blue eyes peer at me a bit more. “Seems like you’ve done the same.”
I shrug. “I don’t know, but I want to protect them.” My eyes lower to the floor. “I’m fucking tired of feeling like a burden and every time I feel like I crawl out of this shit, I turn around and find myself back in the mud.”
A moment of silence passes and then Paris sighs. His hand lands on my shoulder and he drags me in for another hug. The scent of his spicy cologne fills my nostrils and I inhale deeply, letting my arms come up again to hug him back.
“It’s going to be okay,” he assures me. “If you need a way to see these men of yours, I can help. There’s always some charity gala or ball for this or that around. Give me a few days to touch base with some of the local crowd and see if there’s anything already on the horizon. I’m sure if I sponsor something, I can send out a few invites of my own.” He dips his head and grins at me. “All you need to do is give me a list of names, and I’ll make sure they’re on the list and they know you’ll be there.”
Voice tight, I blink back the burn in my eyes. “Thank you.”
“You’d do the same for me,” Paris says. “If you can get back here, though, that’d be easier.”
I think of Roquel and how Morpheus had seemed more than willing to let me go places with her. So long as I go back tonight and the guys he sent after me don’t report anything unusual, then I should be able to come back.
“I’ll make it happen,” I tell him. Even if I have to cave to Morpheus’ demands. Whatever it takes.
Cool, intelligent eyes fall upon my face. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret later, Jules,” Paris warns me. He turns his cheek and looks towards the windows. “You might be sure now that it’s something you can live with, but… you might find, it’s harder than you thought it would be.”
The words, I know, are coming from a place of understanding—of personal pain that few others know. I wonder if Paris’ friends from his school even know the scope of what he’s been through. I wonder if he’s let anyone else in the way he did me. Sometimes, I think the only reason either of us ever admitted to what happened is because we were strangers—because we could walk away and never see each other again.
Neither of us understood how that one night would form this bond. No matter how much time apart we are. No matter how long it goes between when we see or talk to each other—no one understands the truth of our past more than we do.
Stepping forward, I cup his face, turning it back to mine. “I know, Paris,” I whisper. “I’ll be careful.”
He sighs and presses his cheek into my palm for a single second before finally stepping back. “All right then, I’ll set something up. If you don’t hear from me, then just expect something in the mail. Keep an eye out.”
“I’m staying with Morpheus,” I remind him. “He probably has someone go through all of the mail.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” Paris says with a shake of his head. “Morpheus will have to be invited, otherwise it’ll look suspicious, but once you’re there—I can distract him to give you time to meet up with who you need to.”
My insides are a churning mess at his words. This is happening. It’s really happening. Relief has never felt so clean and fresh, like I’ve been suffocating for days and this is the first real breath I’ve taken.
“You are a god, Paris,” I murmur, grateful.
“Yes, I know,” he says, all blasé, but then his expression turns serious. “These men of yours…” His words are a hedge and I level him with a serious look.
“Don’t even think of checking them out,” I snap. “No background checks will change my mind. I know them.”
He chuckles. “If you’re warning me away from a background check then the odds of them having a record are pretty high.”
“You and I both know that not everything is as it seems.”
