I blinked at him in confusion. “If this isn’t about Ethan, then what is it about?”

“You’re completely mental.” He ran his hand through his hair, and I think he pulled out a few strands in the process. Then he took a deep breath and spoke to me slowly and deliberately, like I was an idiot who had to have things explained to me in small words. “It isn’t about Ethan, it’s about you. What the fuck is the point of teaching you to defend yourself if you’re just going to run out and deliver yourself to your enemies?”

I saw a lot of things in his eyes just then, many of which I’m pretty sure I wasn’t supposed to see.

He was my friend as well as my teacher, and as a friend he certainly had a right to worry about me—even if he didn’t know just how much he had to worry about. But the intensity of his reaction, the anguish in his expression … This was more than one friend worrying about another.

Damn it! I so didn’t need another complication in my life.

What do you do when someone you think of as a friend lets you see that he wants more? I did the only thing I could at the time: I ignored it.

“I didn’t ‘deliver myself to my enemies,’ ” I said. “I know I took a calculated risk when I bargained with the Erlking, but it was just something I had to do. I couldn’t let him keep Ethan when I knew I could save him. I’d have done the same for you.”

Maybe I should have kept that last part to myself, but it was true. It didn’t mean I had any interest in dating Keane, though. I’d have been just as willing to make a deal if it had been Kimber’s life on the line.

I liked Keane, but only on the infrequent occasions he wasn’t being an asshole. He was gorgeous, and, I had to admit, extremely sexy. And yeah, Kimber’s obvious interest in him had sparked an unexpected jealousy in me. But I already had one really complicated boy in my life, and now I had an even more complicated man in it, too. Adding Keane to the mix would be more than I could handle. Besides, Kimber was my best friend. What kind of friend would I be if I got involved with a guy I knew she was interested in?

“Don’t do me any favors,” Keane growled, but he’d lost a lot of the intensity.

“I’m not the type to just sit back and let other people take care of my problems for me,” I said. “I never will be. If you think that makes it a waste of your time to teach me self-defense, then I’m sure I can find someone else to teach me.”

He winced as if I’d said something cruel. I didn’t think I had.

“No, it’s not a waste of my time,” he admitted, hanging his head. “The more stupid crap you get yourself into, the more you’re going to need to defend yourself.”

I made a sound between a laugh and a snort. “Way to be tactful and supportive. With friends like you, my enemies can just sit back and enjoy the show.”

“You’re going to give me gray hair before I’m twenty.”

I shrugged. “You dye it anyway, so you’ll never notice.”

He cracked a smile at that.

“So, are we friends again?” I asked, holding out my hand for him to shake.

He gave me an unfathomable look, then took my hand and gave it a squeeze instead of a shake. “Yeah. Friends.”

He managed to say it without sounding sarcastic, and I managed to accept the words even though I knew he didn’t really believe them.

Chapter twenty

Each day, I woke up expecting to hear from Ethan, but he didn’t call. I’d have told myself he was still flat on his back, except when I asked Kimber how he was doing, she told me he was much better. I was highly tempted to ask her if she knew why he wasn’t calling me, but she’d sounded both exhausted and distracted, so I decided to stick to less emotionally charged topics. She didn’t even question me about my deal with the Erlking. I didn’t know if that meant she’d already heard about the “geis,” or if she didn’t care, or what.

Almost a week passed with no word from Ethan. I saw or at least heard from my mom and dad every day, which might have been nice if everything weren’t so strained. Dad was clearly still worried, and Mom was … Well, Mom was a wreck. Sobriety wasn’t agreeing with her, not during times of stress. She even took me aside for a private chat one day when I was visiting Dad’s house and he ended up stuck on some important phone call.

Her fidgeting was worse than it had been even in her first days after the d.t.’s had passed, and I noticed with a start that she had lost weight. Her clothes hung loosely on her frame, and I saw she was no longer wearing the gold claddagh ring that I’d never before seen her take off. I could still see the impression of the band around her finger. She noticed me staring and rubbed the spot self-consciously.

“It keeps slipping off,” she said. “I’ll have to see if I can get it resized.”

“Are you on a diet?” I asked, though I already knew the answer. She’d always been just a hair on the heavy side, but she’d never cared, and I didn’t think she cared now, either.

“Not intentionally,” she said with a rueful smile. “I just haven’t been all that hungry lately.” She touched her stomach. “I always seem to lose my appetite when I’m stressed out.”

I nodded. Now I understood. In the past when she’d been stressed out, she might have lost her appetite for food, but not for alcohol. It might not be what you’d call nourishing, but it did have calories. And, come to think of it, it probably reduced her stress, too, though at a terrible cost.