Vanish (Firelight #2)(35)

A smile tugs my mouth. This is the funny, quirky Az I love and remember. My smile slips and I look at her intently, willing her to never forget this moment, these words: “He’s really special, Az. That day we snuck out and the hunters chased us, he saw me; he let me go. He’s the reason I escaped. He cares about me for me. Not because of what I am.” I laugh hoarsely. “I’ve never been able to say that about any other guy.” Although lately, the way Cassian looks at me—no, I shove that thought away. I’m leaving with Will.

She stares down at her hands and nods slowly. “I guess I can understand that.”

“I need you to,” I whisper fervently. “I really need you to.”

She lifts her gaze to mine, and I read the silent question in her eyes. A question I won’t answer. When they come to her, I want her to look them in the face and tell them in all honesty that she knew nothing of my plans.

“I do,” she finally says.

I can’t stop myself then. I pull her close for a hug. Squeezing her, I say, “Thanks.” My voice catches and she smooths her hand down my hair.

“Hey. It’s okay. I’m not mad anymore. When have I ever been able to stay mad at you? I think this was definitely a record.”

I start to laugh and the sound turns into a wet hiccup. “Just remember that next time I tick you off.”

“Planning a next time already?” she teases.

Something tightens in my chest. “Just in case,” I hedge.

“Oh, Jacinda.” She shakes her head at me. “So doom and gloom. Don’t worry about what hasn’t even happened. Just live in the moment.”

I sniffle and swipe a hand at my nose. “I am.” My gaze sweeps the room, searching, the tightness in my chest easing when I spot what I’m looking for on her desk. “Now. How about a game of cards?”

I stay at Az’s until her mom comes in and warns me that it’s twenty minutes until curfew. With a hurried good-bye and a promise to see her tomorrow, I leave, my heart lighter to have made amends with Az. Hopefully she’ll remember tonight and understand when she hears that I’ve gone.

When I arrive home, I head down the hall, eager for a shower. Bumping into my sister coming out of her room is the last thing I expect.

“Tamra, I didn’t know you were coming over.”

Her face doesn’t crack an expression and it’s so reminiscent of when we were kids—when she would get really mad at me and try to look so very stern—that I have to fight back a smile. “It’s still my house, Jacinda. I grew up here.”

“Of course.”

The awkward moment stretches between us as we stand in the tight space of the corridor. She finally breaks the silence by motioning behind her to her door. “I needed to get a few things.”

I nod, having nothing to say . . . everything to say. And yet words fail me.

She starts to move past me, and I watch her, my heart in my throat, thinking of the horrible scene with Cassian. And yet it only confirms that leaving Tamra might be the best thing for her, might give her just what she needs. A life where she’s able to shine in her own light. Without me to share it.

She turns as if struck with a thought. “I checked in on Mom. What’s going on? She doesn’t look good.”

“She’s not,” I answer matter-of-factly before I can think about candy-coating the truth. When I go, Tamra better know about what’s going on with Mom. Mom’s going to need her. They’ll need each other. “They’re working her long hours. Punishing her, I guess.”

Tamra’s voice comes out weakly. “I didn’t know.”

“You might have some pull now. Maybe you can get them to lay off her a little.”

She nods. “I’ll try.”

“And she’s drinking too much, sneaking verda wine from the clinic. . . .”

“That doesn’t sound like her.”

I don’t like the accusation I hear in her voice. Like I’m either lying or I’m the reason our mother has taken solace in a bottle. “I’ve been trying to get her to eat at least. But she’s had a rough time over the last few weeks. She’s depressed.”

“Why haven’t you told me any of this?”

“You haven’t asked.”

She blinks and I know I’ve stung her. Maybe unfairly. Tamra didn’t ask for what happened to her, after all. She didn’t ask to move in with Nidia and leave Mom. She’s just trying to cope. Like I am. “Look,” I say, “just don’t forget about her. She needs you.” Because I won’t be here.

Tamra stares at me curiously before nodding slowly. She moves for the door. Her hand is on the knob when I hear myself blurt, “I’m sorry, Tamra.”

She looks over her shoulder. One glimpse into her eyes and I know she understands what I’m talking about. It’s been there between us since I walked into the house. Cassian.

“For what? Being what he wants?”

“I’m not,” I insist. “He just doesn’t know it.”

“And he never will.” She doesn’t sound angry as she says this. Simply tired, defeated. She reminds me a bit of Mom in that moment, or at least what Mom’s become lately. Again, I can’t help wondering whether my leaving might be the best thing for both of them. Having me around hasn’t made life easy for either of them.