Page 89 of Wicked Promises
That dreampops.
I don’t have my way. I have an inheritance controlled by my uncle for another four months, no power, no control.
No fucking clue.
She walks toward me, and I focus on her dark eyes. They’re glazed with unshed tears, but she still smiles at me and holds out her hand.
I take it and pull her close.
“Remember my promise,” I say in her ear. “No matter where you go, I’ll find you.”
It used to be a threat, but now…
It’s much more than that.
Norah and Josh give Margo two big hugs when we all walk in, and that seems to shock the hell out of her. She stands frozen for a minute, then relaxes into each of them.
“We’re going downstairs,” Eli tells them, giving his mom a peck on the cheek. “We ordered food.”
She smiles and pats the side of his head. “You all deserve some happiness.”
I agree. Especially Margo, who’s beginning to resemble a ghost with her paleness.
I haven’t released her hand since we left her house. Even in the car, and climbing out, I didn’t let go. Her bag is over my shoulder, and I guide her downstairs. She comes willingly, squeezing my hand softly.
The boys appear a second later with drinks, passing out the sodas. We all flop onto the couch.
“Lydia is the connection,” she blurts out. “I’m sorry, Caleb. But?—”
I wave off my words. “I know.”
“Why is she working at that diner?” she demands. “Lenora mentioned something about the will, but?—”
I rub my eyes. “Yeah. That.”
Eli grunts. “Story time.”
“It’s not that interesting.”
“Sure it isn’t,” he counters. “Just your mom’s entire motivation may rest on that one day. One moment where her life went…” He whistles, miming something falling and exploding.
I grit my teeth. “Fine.”
And then… Well, I do what I’ve been trying to avoid for a long time. I remember.
Past
Mom held me close. She hadn’t touched me in three days, but today she was a leech. Sucking my energy out of my body.
That’s what I told myself anyway.
It was the day before the funeral, and all we had been wearing was black. My shirt was starched and scratchy under my suit jacket and pants, and the tie strangled me.
I didn’t understand why we had to get so dressed up to read Dad’s last words. They were just words on a piece of paper.
Uncle David and Aunt Iris came into the room. She ruffled my hair, which Mom immediately finger-combed back into order, and Uncle David knelt in front of me.
“How are you holding up?” he asked.