Just then the phone rang. I checked caller ID, blew out a breath and picked up the phone. “Hi, Mom!”

“Mia, where have you been all weekend? I was worried sick.”

I paused, clearing my throat. “I’m sorry. I got super busy. Extra shifts.”

“I called your work,” her voice trembled when she said it.

Fuck. Silence. Caught lying to her. I never lied to her. I squeezed my eyes shut, shaking. “I’m sorry.”

“What’s going on? Why are you lying to me?”

I gulped. “I—I’m fine. Okay? You don’t need to worry—”

“I’m a mother. I worry. If I can’t get hold of you, then I try to find out what the hell is going on. Heath—”

“Mom, please don’t call Heath anymore. We are kind of not on the greatest terms right now.”

“Okay, now I’m really worried. Can I come down there?”

I took a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Mom. I just. I’m not ready to talk about it.”

“Are you—are you seeing someone? Is that it?”

I bit my lip. “Um.”

“Mia, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“There’s someone. But I’m not ready to talk about it, okay?” And by the time I was ready to talk about it, he’d be long gone out of my life, so it didn’t matter anyway.

A long pause. “Is it serious?”

I cleared my throat. “No. Not even serious enough to mention, which is why I haven’t. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

“Mia, this is a good thing. I’m glad you’re dating.”

Dating. A ball of sickness bunched in my stomach, but whether it was because of the thought of actually dating or of lying to my mom about dating, I couldn’t tell.

“Mom, I promise that if there is anything to talk about, I will. Just…just you’ve got to let me go about this my own way, okay? Please?”

“Only on one condition. That you let me know where you are.”

“Of course. I have a new phone. I’ll text you the number, okay?”

We said good-bye soon after. She still had that distant, hurt tone to her voice and I felt like the biggest jerk for causing it. But the news that I was “dating” was probably a big enough shock in and of itself. She’d been bugging me for years, even though she never seemed to follow her own advice.

After dressing, I set aside the key and went back to the computer. With this unexpected free time—normally I’d just be returning from my shift about now and collapsing into bed, exhausted—I decided to while away a few hours in the game.

Katya, our fourth group member who was our regular healer, sent me an in-game message.

*Persephone tells you, “Hey Mia.”

*You tell Persephone, “Kat! Let’s go kill stuff.”

*Persephone tells you, “Can’t. I’m just logging off. Had to babysit my mainframes on the graveyard shift.”

*You tell Persephone, “Where have you been? I was getting worried that you’d vanished like FallenOne.”

*Persephone tells you, “What’s up with Fallen, anyway? Haven’t you chatted with him lately?”

*You tell Persephone, “No. He’s gone kinda weird. I think it had to do with my auction.”

*Persephone tells you, “Well, yeah…duh. He’s probably jealous as hell.”

*You tell Persephone, “Really?”

*Persephone tells you, “Duh, Mia. He totally likes you. He’s always giving you equipment and magic items. You guys chat and have in-jokes that I just don’t even get. Since you’re so hell-bent on punching your v-card, he’s probably crushed that you didn’t invite him to fly out and get the job done.”

I sat back with a sigh, a heavy weight collecting in my chest. I liked Fallen. A lot. And yeah, once in a while, I’d felt a twinge of a crush on him but there was no possible future with him. He was just a friend. And really, I knew so little about him. He could be fifty years old, married, a grandfather, for all I could tell. I realized that I liked the idea of what Fallen could be to me rather than the actual person, since I knew so little about him.

Men as friends were much safer. A force of nature in the guise of a man who threatened to tear my ideologies apart by the foundations, was not an option. I shoved that thought of Adam aside and replied to Katya.

*You tell Persephone, “Did he tell you that?”

*Persephone tells you, “He refuses to talk about the auction whenever I bring it up. Which, for the record, is not often. But you go, girl. More power to you. I hope you get lots of $$$.”