Kiss of Fire (Imdalind, #1)(25)

My life did suck, and all because I allowed a stupid mark to destroy me.

I laid my head against the back of the seat and watched as the city lights of old-fashioned neon and new-aged fluorescent blended together in a rainbow blur of colors until the city laid far behind and ever-expanding houses laid before me.

There had been a reason I let the mark control my life, and as much as I rationalized my behavior and my loneliness, the fact still remained that I was broken, that my dad didn’t want me. Mark or no mark, the outcome would be the same.

Their last fight still haunted me. I would still revisit it in monthly nightmares; the screaming more intense, more audible, more of the blame placed on me. I would wake up covered in sweat, only to turn over and cry into my pillow in the desperate hope that my mom wouldn’t hear. She never did.

I exited the bus, grateful for the evening air that swirled around me. My long board clicked loudly as I traveled the last five minutes of alleys and side streets until I arrived at the door to the kitchen.

The click-click of the long board ricocheted around my head as the fight replayed again. It still rattled me, it still hurt, but it wasn’t as bad. And through it all, I realized something. My dad left me; he ran away from me. He ran away because of the mark, and I didn’t want anyone else to run, too. So I hid. I just didn’t want to get hurt anymore. All this time, and I hadn’t realized how broken I was inside.

I arrived in the kitchen of the LaRue’s just as dinner was being served to the family. As I had expected, the kitchen was in a frenzy of activity as the maids and wait-staff rushed around with trays of food and decanters of who knows what. My mom was busy rushing around and yelling different instructions to different staff members.

I dodged and weaved my way through the activity to find my usual barstool. It always surprised me that so many people were needed to serve only Ryland and his father. After a few minutes, the staff disappeared, leaving my mother and Mette to clean and prepare for the dessert course.

“How was your friend’s house?” Mom asked, setting a large bowl of leftover soup in front of me. She looked at me eagerly, excited I had taken her advice so seriously.

“Wyn,” I provided. “It was fun. She likes Styx,” I added, causing Mom’s smile to widen.

“A girl after my own heart,” she said.

“Yeah, I really like her.”

Mom smiled and moved away from me, back to her cleaning. “And the movie?” she asked, spooning a strawberry puree into a crystal dish.

“We didn’t get around to the movie; we mostly just talked.”

“Girl talk? You?” she asked in disbelief.

“I know.”

Mom wiped her soapy hands on her apron and came over, stealing a spoonful of chicken dumpling soup. “Mmmm, I do make a good soup.” She licked her lips in enjoyment.

“The best,” I agreed.

The platters began returning, most picked clean either by the family or by the staff on the way back to the kitchen. The trays and dishes clanged as they threw them, one after another, into the sink. My mom rushed back into action, as she directed the huge number of tasks with ease.

I remembered when she had first started. She had come home in tears after she had forgotten to serve an appetizer course, and the roast beef had been served lukewarm. The next morning, we had arrived in the kitchen to a very uncomfortable Edmund who explained what had gone wrong, while also offering his compliments on her pear gelato. He had left after that, leaving behind a small, freckled boy with blazing, blue eyes and an absolute mop of dark, curly hair.

I had been hiding behind my mother’s legs, and when I saw him staring at me, I buried my face into the back of my mom’s thighs. He had come up to me, tugging on my arm in an attempt to get me to play with him.

“What’s her name?” he asked my mom in his innocent voice.

“Joclyn.”

“Hey, Joclyn.” He tugged again. “Do you want to come play with me? I made a castle in my room; do you want to come see?”

I had turned my head to look at him. He smiled at me, and I felt more comfortable. I took his hand, my mom still prodding me along to go with him.

“You have very pretty eyes. They look like diamonds.”

He was always charming, right from the start.

I smiled at the memory, the way I had when he had first said the words to me. Somehow, even all these years later, it still made me feel warm and fuzzy inside. I had been so uncomfortable about my newly-changed eye color, and he had taken all that fear away.

“You ready?”

I looked up. My mom was standing by the door of the now empty kitchen, hand perched on the light switch.

“Come on, honey; it’s time to go home.”

I stood slowly, my body stiff from sitting in my daydream for so long.

“Glad you’re still with me,” Mom said. “I thought I lost you for a little bit.”

“Sorry. I was just thinking, I guess.”

“Something good and not involving rippling muscles, I hope.”

I ignored her obvious jab at Ryland before stepping into her old station wagon. “No, Mom,” I grumbled as I closed the door behind me and shut us into the small space. “Wyn saw my scar.” Better get it over with right away; it was what I traveled out of my way to talk to her about after all.

The mood in the car changed immediately; stressful energy dripping into the air. I wasn’t sure who was more stressed about my statement, me or my mom.