Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(34)

My mom hands her a pale yellow satchel. “I had the Gales bring over your things so you can shower and change. You’ll want to use my bathroom. Vane hasn’t cleaned his in so long it’s probably a public health hazard.”

“I’ve had a few things going on,” I grumble.

“The bathroom’s just through my bedroom,” my mom tells Solana, pointing down the hallway. “Clean towels are on the counter and help yourself to anything else you want. You know how to work a shower, right?”

“She’s a sylph not an alien, Mom,” I interrupt as Solana slips past my mom and disappears down the hall.

My mom blushes. “Right.” She waits until Solana closes the bathroom door. Then turns to me and says, “So, interesting night.”

“Yeah, no kidding—and since when are you okay with letting a hot girl sleep in my room?”

I glance back at the bed, not sure how to get rid of the image of Solana stretched out in there. I think I’ll need to have Audra help me replace it . . .

“Oh, please, Vane. I knew you two were only sleeping—and I was happy to see you finally get some rest.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with my mother?”

My mom laughs. “Stop being so weird and go get cleaned up. I’m making breakfast.”

I’m being weird?

Me?

I stomp to the bathroom and jump in the shower.The water falls like a trickle and I realize Solana’s stealing all the water pressure— which is a bad thing to think about because suddenly I’m imagining her all wet and steamy and—

Why does she have to be hot?

Couldn’t the Gales have betrothed me to some hook-nosed hunchback with warts and a snaggletooth?

Or couldn’t she at least be as uninterested in me as I am in her?

I think about the sadness in her eyes when she told me I was all she’s had to hold on to.

I know what she means.That’s how it was for me, with Audra . . .

I rinse my hair and turn the water off, relieved when I hear Solana’s shower still running. Let’s hope she’s a normal girl who takes forever in the bathroom because I need to have a talk with my mom. She’s being a little too nice about this whole thing, and I have a horrible feeling I know why. My mom’s never been the biggest Audra fan. She basically blames her for all the dangerous things that have happened lately—and the last thing I need is for her to play matchmaker.

The smell of bacon hits me as I make my way toward the kitchen, but my mom’s not making torpedoes like I thought. The counter is covered with her waffle iron and bowls of strawberries and candied nuts and homemade whipped cream.

She’s making sugarwaffles, something she only makes a couple of times a year because they’re so much work. And she has to make the batter the night before, so clearly she’s been planning this from pretty much the moment Solana got here.

“What?” she asks when she catches me scowling.

“I know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?”

“Oh please.” I grab one of the strawberries—which she dipped in freaking chocolate—and take a bite. “You never do all this when Isaac stays the night.”

“That’s because I’ve seen Isaac eat a cheeseburger that’s been sitting in his car all day. Plus I know he likes burritos better. How’s he doing, by the way? I never see him anymore.”

“Don’t try to change the subject. I get it. You like Solana.”

“I do like Solana. She seems like a very nice girl, and I wanted to do something to thank her for staying up all night to help you sleep. I’ve been so worried about you, honey.”

She reaches up and brushes my damp hair out of my eyes, and I notice she has a deep crease pressed between her brows.

“I’m fine, Mom.”

“Are you? Because all I see is you racing off on secret missions and being dragged home unconscious.”

She’s right. That pretty much sums up my last few weeks.

My mom sighs. “I know you didn’t ask for any of this and I know you’re trying to be careful. But I also just want to make sure you’re happy.”

“I am.”

My mom puts bacon she’s been frying on a paper towel to drain. “Can I ask you something?”

I grab a slice and take a bite. “Maybe.”

She doesn’t look at me, focusing on the waffle batter she’s stirring when she asks, “Where’s Audra?”

“I’ve told you I don’t know.”

“I know. But . . . don’t you think you should know—if she means as much to you as I think she does—”

I shush her, glancing down the hall to make sure my parents’ bathroom door is still closed. It is. And I can hear the sink running, so I doubt Solana can hear. But still.

The Gales know my mom knows about Audra. I told them we used the girlfriend thing as a cover and that my mom still doesn’t realize it was an act. I’m pretty sure they bought it. But the last thing I need is to give Solana another reason to feel jealous.

“I just think it says something that she’s not back yet,” my mom says quietly. “And I’d hate you to pass up something that could be great just because you have your heart set on something that might already be over.”