Grievous (Scarlet Scars #2)(106)
Brow furrowing, I glance down at the loose laces of the combat boots I’m wearing, the ones I never bothered to take off at bedtime, before I meet Scarlet’s gaze again. She’s still smiling, radiating happiness. Warmth.
“When she comes back, you tell her I said she’s not half-bad herself.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Wake up, sunshine,” a voice called out in a raspy whisper as the little girl was shaken, roused from a deep, dreamless sleep.
The little girl peeked her bleary eyes open, blinking a few times as she gazed at the face beside her. “Mommy?”
Her mother smiled—a big, wide kind of smile. It wasn’t the kind of smile the little girl saw every day. This smile glowed with happiness, almost vibrating with excitement, as her mother whispered, “We’re here.”
Here.
It took the little girl a moment to get it, a moment to understand what her mother meant, to remember where ‘here’ was supposed to be. She sat up straight, moving so fast the seatbelt locked in place, trapping her in her booster seat. Groaning, she impatiently tugged at the seatbelt, looking around outside the windows of the car, but it was so dark, and all she could really see were the shadows and the trees.
Lots and lots and lots of trees.
Whoa, so many trees.
“Can I see them now?” the little girl asked. “Can I see Woody and Buzz?”
Her mother laughed, unclipping the seatbelt so the little girl could climb out of the car. The ground was hard, mostly dirt, with patches of green grass leading to a brown house.
“Not tonight,” her mother said, “but I promise, after we get settled in, we’ll go see them.”
“You two have fun with that,” another voice said as a car door slammed.
Mommy’s friend.
The little girl thought he might be her friend, too, but she hadn’t asked him. He was nice to her, though. He made her pancakes whenever she wanted them and never ever tried to feed her porridge, not even once in the weeks that she’d been around him. The little girl and her mother had stayed at his house with him back in the city before everything was put in boxes and they got into his car to drive the whole way to Florida.
‘Home... for now,’ her mother kept calling it. She said if the little girl didn’t like the place, if it didn’t make her happy, they wouldn’t stay long, but with Woody and Buzz being nearby, how could she not like it?
It was like a dream come true.
“Oh, come on,” the little girl’s mother said. “You know you want to go, too. I mean, it’s freakin’ Disney World. Who doesn’t want to go to the Happiest Place on Earth?”
He raised his hand.
The little girl laughed.
“They have Star Wars stuff,” her mother said. “Rides and stormtroopers and souvenirs.”
“And Woody and Buzz will be there,” the little girl told him. “You don’t wanna see them?”
He looked at her, pausing in a patch of grass. “I’ll pass, shortcake, but thanks. I have plenty around here to keep me busy.”
The little girl glanced around. The air smelled sweet, and all the trees were filled with oranges. It reminded her of an enchanted forest, like the ones from the fairy tale stories.
She turned back to him. “Like what? What are you gonna do here?”
“Pick oranges,” he said. “Eat oranges.”
“Real oranges? Or you mean like them tangerines?”
“Both.”
“Oh.”
It was quiet for a moment, as they stared at each other, before his expression cracked and he laughed. It wasn’t a mean laugh, no, so she didn’t mind his laughter. His laugh sounded happy.
He turned to her mother, shaking his head. “She’s so much like you, it’s terrifying.”
“Starting to think you’re in over your head?” her mother asked.
“Pretty fucking positive I’m so in over my head that nothing short of decapitation is getting me back out of this one.”
Her mother laughed, yet another happy sound, as she reached for him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her then, a messy kiss, all sloppy and noisy and wet. The little girl scrunched up her nose. It kind of looked like they wanted to eat each other’s faces off.
It wasn’t at all like the way the Tin Man had kissed her mother that night in the kitchen.
Maybe this was love, the little girl thought. Maybe love made you kiss all messy. Maybe love made you hungry for faces. Maybe he loved her mother, and maybe her mother loved him back. Maybe they loved each other like the little girl loved Buster.
“Buster,” she gasped.
The sound of her voice made them pull apart, breaking the kiss. Oops.
“He’s in the car,” her mother said, “right where you left him.”
The little girl rushed back into the car, snatching up Buster and pulling him out. There were other people around now, approaching to greet them, people who worked on the orange groves. Her mother had told her all about them. Not flying monkeys.
“Come on, sunshine,” her mother said, taking the little girl’s hand. “How about we go on inside and find you a bedroom while Lorenzo takes care of things?”
The little girl smiled.
She liked how that sounded.