Wicked Dreams (Fallen Royals, #1)(16)

Lenora smiles. “Thank you. Do you cook?”

I freeze. “Me?”

We cooked to survive. I know how to make rice and chicken, ground beef and pasta. How to thin out a can of soup to make it last an extra three days… but cook like this? Never.

“I could teach you,” she offers. “If you had any interest.”

I swallow. “Yeah,” I manage in a hoarse voice, “that’d be… that’d be great.”

She smiles. “I’d like that.”

“Me, too.” I wipe my face and clear my throat, pretending that I don’t have tears in my eyes for the fifth time today. At least they’re tears of happiness.

“Aw, honey.” She gets up and takes the plate from me. She passes it to Robert and wraps me in a hug.

It takes me a minute to unlock my muscles and hug her back. Touching is a weird thing in foster care. It gets to the point that you can’t really trust anyone, especially once you’re a teenager.

I survived all of that.

She rubs my back in small circles, and I lean my cheek on her shoulder. I close my eyes, absorbing her warmth. But then it’s over. There are tears in her eyes, too. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I should’ve asked—”

“It was just what I needed,” I say.

“Our daughter died in a car accident a few years ago. Since we had all of this…” she motions all around, “we felt guilty keeping it for the two of us.”

“You had a foster before me?”

“We did,” Robert says. “She was nice, but not quite a perfect fit. Not someone we might consider adopting.”

My lungs seize up. Adoption. The golden word. It isn’t just loving someone until they age out: it’s a forever commitment. It’s… everything.

“Oh,” I manage.

Lenora shoots him a look. “We want someone to be part of our family for a long time,” she says. “We’ve only known you for a week, and we want to take things slow. But we really enjoy your company, Margo.”

I sniff. “Thank you. I like you guys, too.”

They laugh, and we lapse back into companionable silence as we watch the rest of the television show. Finally, my yawns are getting too close together to pretend I’m not exhausted.

“Go to bed,” Lenora suggests. “We’re headed up as well.”

I grab a glass of water and wish them goodnight in the hallway, waiting for them to close their door before I open mine.

I let out a heavy sigh.

I close the door behind me, resting my forehead on it in the darkness. I set the water down on my dresser, ready to change back into my pajamas. I’m not ready to go to sleep and dream about Caleb, though. I’m not ready for…

Him to be in my room.

I tilt my head, blinking a few times in a row, but he doesn’t vanish.

He just smiles.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper-shout.

“Did you dream about me?” He lifts my pajama shorts from where I had dropped them. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Get out,” I snap.

I go back to the door, ready to throw it open and demand that he leave, but suddenly he’s pushing me against the door. He leans into me, his arms on either side of my head, caging me in.

“I think you like the idea of me in your room,” he says. “Isn’t that right?”

“You and your fucking mind games.” I shake my head. “Isn’t tormenting me in school enough?”

He’s solemn when he answers, “No.”

“No?”

“It’s not enough. Don’t think it ever will be.”

I let my head fall back. His eyes are dark, his face in shadow from the lamp behind us. “Why?”

His lips ghost along the shell of my ear. “Because you fucking deserve it.”

He takes a step back, then another. He opens my window and climbs out, vanishing down the side of the house. I creep toward the window and watch him jog across the front lawn, to his car parked in the street. Once he’s gone, I close and lock my window.

I go to my dresser and down the water, inexplicably dry-mouthed. My head is spinning. He knows where I live. Is that why he let me walk home? Because he knew it would take me ten minutes at the most?

Or maybe he followed me.

It’s only nine. I’m sure Riley probably isn’t asleep…

I grab my phone and call her, hiding under the covers.

“Yo, you pulled a vanishing act today,” she says.

“Caleb took me…” I clear my throat. “Home.”

“Did he?”

Kind of.

“He just showed up in my room,” I confess. “And he’s scary and attractive and mean, and I don’t know what to do.”

She coughs. “Excuse me? I mean, I knew he’s always watching you at school, but…”

“I asked why he couldn’t just torment me at school,” I say. “And he said it wasn’t enough.”

“Girl. I think he likes you.”

“Doubt it.”

“Guys in kindergarten pull a girl’s hair if he likes her. Clearly Caleb never grew up.”

I snort. “Riley. Are you listening to yourself?”