Through the Fire (Daughter of Fire, #1)(15)

My stomach twisted in both fear and delight that he’d been so easily able to see the effect Clay had over me—both now and two years ago.

“I only hope you made a better choice than last time.”

The twisting sensation turned quickly to nausea. Would he remember Clay? They’d never met as far as I was aware, but that didn’t mean Dad wouldn’t recognize him from around town.

Would he understand if he did?

“I’m not sure that it was much of a choice,” I murmured.

He gave me a sympathetic smile. “I know what you mean, honey, it was the same for your mom and me.” His eyes took him to another time and place, somewhere before I was born, when Mom was still alive. “What time’s he supposed to be here?”

“I’m not sure. About now, I guess,” I said, glancing at the clock. I hadn’t set a time with Clay, but I assumed he’d turn up around the same time I usually went to see him.

“You know, if you’d given me some notice, I could have prepared a proper meal or at least tidied up a bit.”

“Aren’t you worried that I invited someone here?” I asked. That was one of the things I was most worried that Dad would be upset about.

“You didn’t tell him we were here illegally, did you?”

“Of course not,” I said. I didn’t think Clay would be overly surprised by the revelation either though, but I couldn’t add that without concerning Dad. Although, I was beginning to wonder whether body-snatchers had stolen the man I knew, given his seemingly cavalier attitude toward Clay’s impending visit. I’d thought he’d tear the town apart trying to get me away from any interested suitor.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, no doubt in reaction to the odd expression on my face as I took in his casual acceptance.

“I just . . . You’re taking this rather well.”

“As much as I hate to admit it, you’re not my little girl anymore. If you think this boy is special, then I’m sure he is. After the last time . . . it broke my heart to see you like that. This is a hard life, and it’ll make it easier for me to know you won’t be facing it alone when I’m gone.”

“Don’t talk like that, Daddy,” I murmured as I stepped forward to wrap my arms around him again. It sounded almost as if he was planning on leaving me tomorrow, and the thought scared the hell out of me. I might have been old enough to live on my own, I might even have been introduced to some of the things he did to keep us alive, but I wasn’t ready to live without him yet.

“I’ve got a few good years left in me yet, but no one can live forever.” He coughed and stepped out of my embrace, no doubt growing uncomfortable with the thought of his mortality, or perhaps the reminder of mine. “Anyway, let’s see what we can do to make this place look a bit more like our house, so that we don’t tip him off unnecessarily.”

I grinned and helped him tidy the signs that we were merely squatters in a defaulted house. If nothing else, it would help me to kill some of the nervous energy buzzing around my body.

An hour later, the house was organized, but we were still waiting for Clay. The whole time we’d waited, Dad had alternated between asking random questions about him and how we met, and cursing him for upsetting me by being late.

After another hour, I was so far beyond upset it was ridiculous. My skin prickled with the heat of anger as flames danced near the surface. How could he do that to me?

How he could just not show up after promising he’d come? Was he toying with me? Was it all a game to him?

Another half an hour of waiting and I was close to the edge. My teeth were pressed together so hard they almost cracked.

Had he been hurt?

Had something happened to him?

It was useless to continue to wait, that much became more obvious with every second. There wasn’t anything else for it. I would go to his warehouse. If I found him there alive and well, he’d face my fury. It was like high school all over again.

I’d make him regret standing me up. Again.

“I’m going for a drive,” I shouted at Dad as I grabbed the keys to the Ford.

Dad practically raced to my side. “I’ll come too.”

“No, it’s okay. I need to do this alone. If he’s stood me up, there better be a damn good reason for it.”

Dad chuckled at my anger. “Okay, Evie, give him hell. But . . . be careful. Try not to get too upset.” No doubt he really meant “try not to set anyone on fire” but didn’t want to say it aloud.

I nodded, knowing that even though I was going to rage at Clay if he didn’t have a good reason for not coming, I could keep myself calm enough to deal with it without the risk of hurting him.

Dad’s old truck suffered extensively on the drive to the warehouse. The vinyl at the top of the steering wheel twisted and warped under the strain of my heated, wringing hands. My fingers scorched the material as my emotions swung wildly out of control, constantly vacillating between fear and anger.

He said he’d come. Why didn’t he?

By the time I reached the airport district, my teeth were clenched so tightly I was beginning to wonder whether they would end up permanently fused together. My heart fluttered against my chest uselessly like a caged bird trying to escape. The lack of information was what scared me the most. What will I be walking into? I’d had my heart broken the first time Clay had rejected me—when he’d discovered my true nature—and I didn’t think I could bear it again. Even the knowledge that he was apparently willing to just not show for a meeting that was important to me was enough to make my heart tatter and bleed.