“I don’t think you’re a superhero or anything. But … sometimes you have to draw the line and fight for your ground. Fight, Kian. Take something for your own.”
He whirled then, lightning in his eyes. “You’re the only ground I won’t yield, Edie. Everything else is dust, and each time I walk away from you, I’m afraid it’s the last. You don’t know the deals I’ve made, the—” Swallowing hard, he clenched a fist. “Never mind. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I think you’d better tell me exactly what you mean.”
He stepped into my space and tangled his hands in my hair, tipping my face up. I should’ve insisted on an answer, but when he looked at me like that it was impossible for me to think. “You’re mine. How’s that?”
“It’s good,” I whispered.
“I’ll fight for you. I’ll draw all the lines around you. I’ve”—he brushed his lips teasingly, delicately, across mine—“never felt this way before.”
When I went up on tiptoe to kiss him back, kiss him more, he spun me and pressed me against the window. I twined my arms around his neck and held on; the longing was honey sweet and ferocious like a storm. He tasted me and I ran my hands over his shoulders and down his back, digging in with my fingers, because this feeling just couldn’t be real. Kian made a soft sound against my mouth, a growl or a whimper, and I shivered against him.
“I should take you home,” he whispered. “Or I won’t at all. I want you to stay.”
“I can’t. Not yet.”
“I know. Your life is complicated enough.”
Shaky nod, as I reached for him. He claimed my hand and whooshed us to the alley we’d used to depart for the SSP. “I’ll never get used to that.”
“And I’ll never get enough of you.” Kian devoured another kiss and another, until my knees went weak. Until meeting him, I hadn’t known longing for another person could come as a physical ache.
“Wow.” I swallowed hard and then hurried away before I begged him to take me back to his apartment.
It was crazy that I had to weigh everything now in terms of cause and effect. A night with Kian would be amazing, but I had enough stress in my life. When we slept together, I wanted the timing to be right. After waiting this long, sex shouldn’t be one of my regrets.
NORMAL IS ANOTHER COUNTRY
Blackbriar might be under a cloud, but for the rest of my imprisonment, it didn’t storm. The silence made me uneasy, however, and things were lonely at school, as Davina and Jen were MIA. I hoped that meant they’d persuaded their parents to send them elsewhere, at least for a while. I checked my messages, but there was nothing in my inbox.
Vi was still around, at least. Tuesday night, we talked on Skype. “How are the dreams?” I asked.
“After I sent off my college applications, they totally stopped. Must’ve been stress.”
I suspected it had more to do with burning my second favor, but relief cascaded through me so hard, I got a headrush. “I need to send my stuff in, deadlines are approaching.”
“I figured you’d be done already.”
“No, I’m still putting the package together. I can’t get my essay right.” Truth was, I hadn’t even tried to write one.
“Don’t let it paralyze you. Just pick a theme and run with it.”
“Thanks. I’ll see if I can get everything out next week.”
We chatted a little longer, then I disconnected to get ready for bed. When I went to the bathroom, I left my bedroom door cracked, but when I came back, it was closed. My heart skittered in my chest like it was full of mice. For a few seconds, I stood in the hall, staring.
“Something wrong?”
I spun to find my mother standing behind me. “No, I was just thinking.”
“About how ill-considered your behavior has been lately, I hope.”
“Obviously.”
Normally she wasn’t good at picking up sarcasm, but both brows went up. “Edith, you haven’t been yourself this fall. Do you want to talk to a specialist?”
I had no idea what she meant by that. “A psychologist or a brain doctor?”
“Whichever you think would be most helpful.”
The secrets I had locked in my head would only land me in the psych ward, if the shrink pried them out of me, and an MRI couldn’t solve these problems. So I shook my head. “Sorry, Mom. I think the college admission process is getting to me.”
Any mention of university usually diverted Mom into a lecture, but she didn’t take the bait this time. “Do you have a minute to talk?” She sounded oddly tentative.
“Sure.” Bemused, I followed her into the living room. Before sitting down, she made us both a cup of tea.
“I feel like I don’t know what to do with you anymore.”
“That’s an ominous beginning. I’ve been more trouble than usual lately, but—”
“I don’t mean we’re on the verge of shipping you off to boarding school.” She fiddled with the fringe on the afghan dangling from the back of the couch. “It’s hard for me to say this, but I perceive I haven’t been what you need, emotionally, as a mother.”
Oh Jesus. A year ago, I would’ve loved to have this conversation with her. Now it was too late, though not for the reasons she feared. I fidgeted, picking up a pillow and clutching it to my chest, as if stuffing and fabric was a shield for awkwardness.
“You’re fine,” I mumbled.
“That’s nice of you, but it’s not true. I thought if we sent you to a good school and let you form your own emotional attachments while giving you space that would be enough. I can see now that it wasn’t.”
Part of me wanted to ask where this epiphany was before I ended up on the bridge, but I swallowed it along with a sudden ache in my throat. “I’m not sure where you’re going with this.”
Her face fell, but she soldiered gamely on. “I want us to have a better relationship, a closer one. We have science in common, at least. I don’t know much about your new interests, but I could stand to be more physically fit. Maybe we could work out together? There’s a nice facility at the university…” She bit her lip, sad and hopeful at the same time.
Nice olive branch, Mom. I could either accept it or set it on fire. Since I hadn’t run in the morning since the creepiness started, I nodded. “We could go a couple of times in the afternoon and then maybe on Saturdays?”