“Oh my gosh. Do you realize how funny that is?”

“No…”

“So what do they do? Sit around in folding metal chairs with their fangs out swapping blood-drinking stories”—I’m laughing so hard I can barely manage words—“and like, commiserating about having two stomachs that growl during classes or board meetings, and how two heartbeats confuses the hell out of their Fitbits…”

Jay is laughing too, with a kind of helpless surprise. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You should have the blood bracelets track people’s steps, too,” I add, wiping my eyes.

“They already track location, so I guess that would be easy enough.”

My laughter fades. “You track their locations? Isn’t that an invasion of privacy?”

“Everyone has to agree to it when they sign the paperwork. If someone goes glutton, murders a human, or gets dangerously low on blood, we have to be able to find them.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

Jay sits beside me again, gathering my hand in his. “I won’t abuse the privilege. You’ll go where you want, whenever you want. If you break up with me and decide to go off somewhere else with someone else, I won’t follow you.”

“Says the guy who followed me all the way here and bought a house up the road from my cousin.”

He laughs nervously. “Okay, fine. If I follow you, I’ll keep some distance. I’m not going to stalk you like Tom.”

“You could never be like Tom.”

A shadow crosses his face. “In some ways, I’m worse. I’ve killed people, Daisy.”

“Because you had to.”

“Yes. Gluttons who got out of control.”

“How frequently does that happen?”

“It can happen to anyone, honestly. That’s part of the reason we do interviews and research on our candidates. We have to make sure that they have some measure of self-control that will hopefully carry over into their vampire existence. But as you saw with Slagle, sometimes those precautions don’t work. Sometimes people surprise you. That’s why we have support groups, because like anything else in life, when you’re stressed, you’re prone to overindulge in the things that bring you pleasure—drink, food, games, drugs, sex, blood, whatever. So if any vampires are feeling anxious or stressed, we like to monitor that.”

I stare at him, realizing again the scope of what he has undertaken. “And what about you? You’ve taken all of this on yourself—are you stressed?”

“That’s like asking the Hulk if he’s angry.” Jay grins. “I’m stressed all the time. But I manage it. Mostly by having goals and staying focused on the things that matter the most to me.”

He’s looking right into my eyes. He’s talking about me. And I want so desperately to tell him how much I care about him, too, but instead I’m shrinking shyly into myself, letting the words die on my tongue. Withdrawing into that place I go when I’m struggling to handle my emotions.

It’s a coping mechanism, sure, but my gut tells me it isn’t healthy. There’s something not right with letting myself recede, especially now, so I struggle against it and force myself to stay grounded. I focus on the ribbed metal arm of the chair I’m sitting in, and the warmth of Jay’s fingers, and the bitter scent of the fireworks smoke melting into the burnt sugar aroma of cotton candy from the snack station somewhere below us.

It works, for once. I manage to stay whole.

“I should tell you something before you change me,” I say quietly. “You mentioned that I’m good in a crisis, but sometimes when traumatic things happen, I kind of separate myself into two people. One of them is in charge, doing all the right things, and the other one, the real me, is hiding. So I’m kind of both outside, doing the actions, and inside, watching myself perform them.”

Jay rubs his thumb over the back of my hand, his eyes thoughtful. “I think that’s called disassociation. One manifestation of it, anyway.”

“It’s not good.”

“Maybe not. But it’s not bad either. You’ve experienced a lot of trauma, and maybe your mind needs to do this occasionally. If it keeps up, you can talk to Miriam about it. She’ll probably have some tips.”

“I’ve been through trauma?” I lurch from the chair, suddenly frustrated. “Jay, you were abused and neglected your whole life. Your parents were literally the worst. I have a loving family, plenty of money, lots of friends, and you. I shouldn’t have to do this disassociation thing, whatever it is. I shouldn’t have this broken piece inside me. Earlier you said I was strong… I’m not. You’ve been through so much more and look at you—perfectly whole and mentally healthy—and look at me, collapsing inside over a failed relationship and a couple traumatic incidents. It’s pathetic. I’m pathetic.”

“Stop.” He takes my face in his hands, tilts it up to his. “You are not pathetic. And don’t compare yourself to me, or anyone else. I have my own unhealthy coping mechanisms, okay? I withdraw from people. I barely let anyone in, even you, sometimes. I may look like I have it together, Daisy, but I don’t. And I’m not saying that to make it about me, okay, but to help you see that you can be broken and strong. You can be hurting and powerful. That’s what I want for myself, and for you. Our pain and problems don’t define us. We don’t have to relive the past. We aren’t cursed to repeat what we’ve done, or what our parents have done.”

He pulls my head to his chest and holds me. My arms slide around his waist, and for a while we just stand together. With my ear pressed to his chest I can hear his heartbeat, strong and regular, and the fainter echo of that second smaller heart, lower down, somewhere on the right side.

He’s a literal vampire. Not the kind from myth, exactly, but close enough. Maybe that would unnerve me more if I wasn’t supernatural myself. I can’t seem to get my head around it yet, to fully realize what I am. Which reminds me… I haven’t told Jay about my chat with Dad yet.

“Speaking of things our parents have done.” I sigh against him. “I should tell you about the talk I had with my dad. About what I am, and what he is.”

When I’ve repeated the conversation for Jay’s benefit, he asks a bunch of really specific questions, which annoys me a little because I didn’t think to ask them myself. Since I don’t have all the answers he wants, we spend the next hour poring over odd little folkloric blog posts online, trying to glean additional information about my powers, without much luck. Eventually a text pings on my phone—Jordan, telling me she’s heading out. It’s one thirty in the morning.

“I should go.” I rise from the balcony chair and stretch, while Jay’s eyes trail along my body. Then I touch the side of my neck. It’s faintly sore, but all I can feel are two small indentations. “How’s it looking?”

Jay peers at the marks. “Looks good. Try to keep it covered when you get home, though, or your dad might ask questions. A normal parent probably wouldn’t notice, but since he’s already familiar with supernatural entities, you never know.”

“I want to tell them about you soon. About the vampire thing.”

His brows contract a little, and anxiety tightens his mouth. “Do you think they’ll accept me?”

“It doesn’t matter if they don’t. I’m a grown-up, and I get to choose who I’m with.”

“I know. It’s just…your parents are special to me.” His lashes droop, and his brow furrows deeper.

“Hey. It’ll be fine, Jay. They love you, too, you know.”

“Not enough,” he says quietly.

“They messed up with you. I know it, and I think they know it, too. But as you say, we can’t go back. And we’re not doomed to repeat our mistakes, not if we learn and do better.”

“I hope you’re right.”

When we descend to the first floor, the party’s still going strong. We pick our way over glitter and paper streamers, gold-painted plastic cups and a discarded shoe or two.

“Who loses their shoes in someone else’s house?” I kick one of them aside.

“It’s not the weirdest thing the cleaning crews have found,” says Jay, but he doesn’t elaborate.

Jordan sidles up and pinches me lightly. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. What about Nick?”

“Staying over with Cody again. They’re such lust fiends, those two.” She smirks.

“What about you and the muscly hottie who twirled you around?”