Heroine Complex (37 page)

I
would
tell her about it. But not today.

“Who needs Dad?” I said. “Not when we've got all these dorks to take care of.” I gestured around the room.
Aveda. Scott. Nate and Lucy, who were finally waking up. Bea beamed at me, her mood jerking back to happy. She bounced over to the bed, giving Lucy a shake. “Get up! Let Evie have the bed!”

“Come on, people,” Aveda said, getting to her feet. “Let's leave Nate and Evie alone. I'm sure they want to have some kind of disgusting moment together.”

Lucy shook off Bea's “helpful” hands, crossed the room, and engulfed me in a fierce hug. “No more of this almost dying business, darling,” she said sternly. “I really must insist.” She released me and headed for the door, beckoning for Aveda and Bea and Scott to follow. “Let's get breakfast. I'm famished.”

“I texted Rose,” Aveda said. “She's going to meet us.”

“To discuss this new portal business?” Lucy asked.

“Sure, that,” Aveda said. “Plus I think she likes you, Lucy.”

“Oh, she totally does!” Bea crowed. “She couldn't stop talking to you that night we all hung out after the karaoke battle. And Rose doesn't talk much in the first place.”

“Well. I'm not sure what I think about that,” Lucy said. But she sounded intrigued.

Just as the door was about to close behind them, I noticed Scott's hand drifting up to the small of Aveda's back. She gave him a surprised look, but she didn't protest.

I wondered what they'd talked about while I was asleep.

I turned back to Nate. He was sitting on the edge of the bed now, staring at me intently.

“Thanks for working with Scott to patch me up,” I said. The space between us felt awkward and loaded and I wasn't sure where else to start.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “You shouldn't sustain any permanent damage other than a scar. But a healing spell this major apparently takes a lot out of the
person being healed, so you'll need to rest up for a bit. About—”

“Four to six weeks?”

“More like a few days.” He matched my tentative smile.

“Still. Maybe Aveda should pretend to be
me
.”

“Maybe.” His smile disappeared and he scrubbed a weary hand over his face.

“So did you actually get a power level up like the rest of us?” I said, still grasping for words to fill the air with. “Or was that just part of your ruse?”

“I did,” he said. “My power used to be quite mild. For instance, I'd be able to tell you the exact measurements of the shirt you're wearing and that it's made out of a cotton-poly blend rather than pure cotton. That's how it was with the stones, too. I could tell what they were made of, how big they were. But those observations consumed me and kept me from noticing other things. Like the connections Beatrice discovered.”

“And now . . . ?”

He studied me. “Now I can tell you exactly how many threads make up the shirt, every single spot that's so much as slightly faded, the date it was crafted. It's like I'm seeing things with an added dimension.”

“Like 4D?” I said, trying for teasing. “Can you also see
through
the shirt? Because I don't think anyone other than me will appreciate that.”

I expected him to laugh, but his expression turned grim. “No,” he said. He hesitated then took a deep breath. “Evie, I need to talk to you about . . . I want to stay here. In my capacity as physician. Everyone seems fine with that, despite the fact that I hid my unusual heritage. And I did have a plan for ensuring Shasta wouldn't succeed.”

“I know,” I said. “I never thought—”

“Once I realized what those stones meant, I thought I could get her attention with my offer, then push her into
the portal while she was turning me,” he barreled on. “Let the portal take us both. Anyway, like I said: I want to stay here. But I also want you to know you don't have to . . .” He trailed off and raked a nervous hand through his hair, making it stand on end. “I realize you're probably angry at me for a lot of things. And I'm not going to . . . to fixate on anything you said when you thought you were dying. Those are extreme circumstances.”

I frowned. What was he saying? He was flustered and unscientific and stuttery and it was weirding me out. He looked away.

And then I got it.

This big, beautiful man—
my
big, beautiful man—was scared to believe my (almost) dying words were some of the truest I'd ever spoken. I stood and put my hands on my hips. My heart felt like it was crumpling and expanding all at once.

“You think I don't love you?” I stalked across the room and planted myself in front of him. “You think I was in some kind of over-emotional, melodramatic headspace and coughed up whatever random sentiment happened to pop into my head? Just for kicks?”

I took his face in my hands, stroking my thumbs over his harsh features. His eyes were so unsure.

“I lied to you,” he said. “I didn't tell you who I really am.”

“I know who you are. I also know I gave you my whole heart that first night we made love. And if you try to give it back to me, I will kick . . . your . . .
ass
.”

I kissed him. I put every bit of emotion I had into it, trying to show him exactly how I felt. “Come on,” I murmured against his lips. “This is my ‘back from the almost dead' kiss. Make it good.”

He gave a surprised laugh. That deep, unexpected sound rumbled through my body, making me feel warm all over. And then, finally, his arms went around my waist and he pulled me into his lap and kissed me back. Fully, thoroughly, passionately.

When we broke apart, he smiled at me and there wasn't a bit of uncertainty left. He looked sure.

“I love you, too,” he said.

Tears filled my eyes, but for once, I didn't try to blink them away. I let them stream down my face as we sat there, him holding me like he never wanted to let go. He pressed his lips against my neck, finding that sensitive spot. My nerve endings perked up and I let out a happy sigh.

Then I took his hand and slipped it under my shirt.

“Evie!” He laughed and gave me an admonishing look. “You're injured.”

“Not that injured,” I said. “Can't I get a note from my doctor?”

“Hmm.” His fingertips skimmed over my skin and he ran them across the scar that had formed right above my heart.

When he spoke again, his voice was husky. “Your doctor isn't sure you're up to such . . . potentially strenuous activity.”

“Of course I am.” I grinned and leaned in to kiss him again. “I'm a superhero.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I am lucky to be part of many formidable superhero teams. Thank you to the Shamers, the Girl Gang, the Heroine Club, the 9 Pinesers, the Cluster, and the Badass Asian Lady Mafia of Los Angeles. You are my own personal X-Men, Justice League, and Sailor Senshi all rolled into one, and this book would not exist without you.

Thank you to my agent, Diana Fox, and my editor, Betsy Wollheim, for believing in this book, helping me make it the best it could be, and loving Evie and Co. as much as I do. And thank you to Brynn Arenz, Isabel Kaufman, Katie Hoffman, Sarah Guan, Josh Starr, Alexis Nixon, Nita Basu, and everyone at DAW and Fox Literary for everything you've done along the way.

Thank you to Seanan McGuire and Amber Benson for being the best fairy godsisters a girl could ask for.

Thank you to Jenn Fujikawa for inspiring demonic cupcakes and being my not-so-secret twin, to Jenny Yang for soothing my rep sweats with apple soda and tater tot waffles, and to Dr. Andrea Letamendi for providing crucial insight into the psychology of superheroes—and the psychology of angsty writers.

Thank you to Tom Wong for showing me that our superpowers work better when we're together, to Erik Patterson for detailed reads of sex scenes, and to Javier Grillo-Marxuach for assisting in crucial nacho research.

Thank you to Amy Ratcliffe for offering running commentary and wanting to hug Evie, to Liza Palmer for Shaming through the holidays and doing fight choreography at Fuddruckers, and to Autumn Massey for being the Fastest Beta Reader in the West.

Thank you to Keiko Agena and Julia Cho for making Evie's voice sing (and swear and do a lot of other things) early on.

Thank you to Kate Rorick for saying, “Yes, you can” and to Sarah Watson for saying, “No, really: I
know
you can.”

Thank you to everyone who fed this book with thoughtful critique, cartoon pastries, and/or katsu drenched in curry: Jeff Lester, Christine Dinh, Christy Black, Mel Caylo, Margaret Dunlap, Cecil Castellucci, Nick Brandt, Caroline Pruett, Elizabeth Diane Benson, and Sina Grace.

Thank you to Jason Chan for taking care of my girls and bringing them to such beautiful life on the cover—they look exactly how I imagined them.

Thank you to the wonderful readers of
One Con Glory
for getting me here.

Thank you to my family for being my family: Dad, Steve, Marjorie, Alice, Philip, and all the other Kuhns, Yoneyamas, Chens, and Coffeys.

Thank you to Jeff Chen for things beyond what words can express. I love you.

Looking for more?
Visit dawbooks.com for more about this author and a complete list of their books.
Discover your next great read!