Chapter 12
“He was everything back in high school. That long side swept fringe…” I set down my makeup sponge to fan my face dramatically.
I’d set my makeup and a hand mirror out on the coffee table and was sitting cross-legged on the floor so I could maximize my time with Riot before I left instead of getting ready in the bathroom alone.
Even this felt like a small act of rebellion. Even if Riot were my soul bond, Mother would be appalled at the casualness between us.
Riot tugged his messy black hair all the way forward before shoving it to the side, flicking it back out of his eyes in a move that I honestly would have found quite cool a decade ago, and I couldn’t suppress my laugh.
“Does this do it for you, Gracie?” he asked in a mock seductive voice.
I swatted him on the arm before returning to my meticulous concealer work, too worried about what truth might slip out if I replied. Riot didn’t have to do a single thing to do it for me . He did it for me by just existing.
I lifted my compact mirror up and dabbed concealer lightly over the purplish bruise that had formed around my swollen eye, just barely suppressing my wince.
Riot raised a disbelieving eyebrow at me as he pushed his hair back into place, and I knew he was trying to hold in his disapproval of me covering up the bruise at all since the process was obviously causing me pain.
He pulled his engraved lighter out of his pocket, fiddling with it mindlessly the way I’d noticed he did when he was feeling agitated.
Mother would hate a visible bruise though. She’d see it as a sign of laziness if I didn’t at least attempt to conceal it, and that was without her knowing I’d taken the day off work. That would definitely be noted as a sign of laziness.
I couldn’t bring myself to regret it, though.
It might have been the best day of my life.
Riot and I had gorged on snacks, watched all three High School Musical movies and snuggled on the couch the entire time.
It hadn’t gone any further than that—for which I was grateful because my eye really hurt and I was still feeling rundown, but the snuggling had helped a lot with the recovery.
I felt like I’d somehow absorbed some of Riot’s energy and it had soaked into my skin.
I finished doing my makeup and ducked into my room to change, selecting one of Mother’s favorite dresses to try to stay on her good side.
It was a pale pink dress with a high neckline, three-quarter length sleeves, and a scalloped hem.
My mother loved this dress. It was…not my favorite. It made me feel like a porcelain doll.
“Alright,” I announced, walking back into the living room with my purse in one hand, the other smoothing down my hair. “I’ll be a couple of hours. Three, tops.”
Riot’s eyes ran slowly over my outfit and I felt my face heat at the small smile playing around his mouth.
“Do I look ridiculous?” I sighed. I felt so much more ridiculous, having seen him talking to Rogue with her cool monochromatic outfit and tattoos and piercings. That was the kind of woman Riot had grown up around. He probably thought I looked like a cupcake.
“You look adorable,” he replied, sounding completely genuine, which made it worse. I didn’t want to be adorable around him. I wanted that sexy empowered feeling back that I’d had when I’d pushed him up against the fridge in a moment of insanity.
“Thanks,” I muttered. “Are you going to be okay here?”
“I need to swing by my dad’s place, but I’ll be here when you get back,” Riot said, standing up and crossing the short distance to me.
His hands skimmed lightly over my hips and I marveled at the colorful ink on his skin next to the soft ballerina pink of my stiff dress. “You sure you’re going to be okay?”
No.
“I’m sure it’ll be a routine family dinner,” I replied instead. I hesitated for a moment before leaning up to kiss the underside of Riot’s jaw. Before I could step back, his hands had tightened around my waist and he captured my lips in a proper kiss that had probably wrecked my nude lipstick.
“I know it goes against your instincts, but please try not to give anyone good luck,” he said quietly, holding me close. “I don’t know how this shit works, but I hate seeing you suffer.”
He didn’t ask me to make him any promises, which I was grateful for because I knew I couldn’t keep them. Right now, my head was clear and I had no desire to put myself or him at risk.
If I encountered someone in need though…
“I’ll try,” I replied softly, meaning it with every fiber in my body. There was enough gas in my tank to get to and from Auburn without stopping, and that is what I planned to do.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” Riot said, dropping a kiss on my forehead as my hands dug into his shirt. I nodded silently, forcing myself to let him go.
His reassurance that he’d be here meant so much more than he could possibly know.
No one had ever stuck around just for me before.
I shot Riot a tremulous smile before making a dash for my car before my courage ran out.
* * *
I pulled into my parents circular driveway, light spilling out from what seemed like every single window of the house.
Their house was an enormous colonial mansion in suburban Auburn.
The walls and columns around the front entry painted an almost blinding shade of white, while the shutters on the second-story were done in a tasteful shade of navy, and the whole thing was surrounded by lush sloping lawns and unsettlingly symmetrical landscaping.
Having spent the whole day with Riot, I felt both buoyed by his energy, and more than a little terrified that it was somehow visible.
When I’d stopped at the lights, I’d even checked in the rearview that my eyes weren’t somehow turning red.
Logically, I knew that wouldn’t happen—probably—but the paranoia was making me act irrationally.
I checked my reflection again in the dim light, making sure my lipstick was firmly back in place. Did my lips look more swollen than normal? No , I was imagining things. From the outside, I was fairly certain I looked the same as I had last week.
Mother’s face appeared in the dining room window, similar to mine yet so much harsher, glaring at me impatiently. Apparently my pre-dinner panic time had come to an end.
Nerves churned in my gut as I let myself out of the car. Every Friday night was an exercise in patience, and that had been back in the simpler time of a week ago when I hadn’t been hiding anything.
Well, I hadn’t been hiding anything like Riot. Just the usual array of un-agathos thoughts that I’d kept hidden my entire life.
“What were you doing out there?” Mother snapped the moment I walked through the enormous white double doors.
Sugar, she was dressed like the first lady in a matching sage pencil skirt and blazer set, nude high heels on just to walk around her own house.
She’d pulled her long black hair, thicker and curlier than mine, back into a low chignon, and her makeup was impeccable as always.
She hated her skin tanning any more than necessary and avoided the sun like the plague, which probably explained how we looked more like sisters than mother and daughter.
No one would guess she’d had three kids, aged 25, 8, and 5, though she’d only been 20 when she had me which helped. Most agathos women would have had at least ten children in that time—one girl and a litter of boys usually, but Anesidora hadn’t been generous to my parents on that front.
“Do you have any idea how rude it is to just sit in your vehicle while your host is waiting inside for you? Six months away and it’s like you’ve forgotten everything I ever taught you,” Mother added while I floundered for a suitable reply.
No matter how much independence I achieved, my mother had the ability to make me feel like a child again.
“She was probably just on her phone,” Chance said as he passed me, dropping a kiss on the top of my head.
He was the tallest of all my fathers and had always been the lankiest, with a shock of red hair that he diligently tamed before attending his job in the Planning and Zoning Department.
He had been raised here, and there had been no question that when my mother found him, this was where they’d settle.
“I’m more worried about your eye,” he added, doubling back and gently lifting my chin up to inspect my black eye.
Not for the first time, I catalogued the features we had in common—mostly our noses and jawline.
It was never spoken of, but I always assumed Chance was my biological dad, just like Tobin was Earnest’s, and Leon had an uncanny number of Valor’s mannerisms.
“I used a lot of luck yesterday and ended up in the middle of an armed robbery,” I said, self consciously pulling my hair forward to cover the injured side of my face.
“We know,” Mother said coolly, giving me a scathing look. “Constance already called to tell me you’d taken the day off.”
“Which seems entirely reasonable,” Chance added softly, though Mother’s face said she strongly disagreed. “Did you have a relaxing day today?”
“Very relaxing, thank you,” I said with a tight smile. Could they tell I was hiding something? Oh gosh, they would totally be able to tell.
So long as their questions weren’t too pointed, I’d be fine. Surely, Mother would be too aggravated about me taking the day off and making her look bad to ask about anything else.
“I’m going to get Mercy and the boys,” she huffed, spinning on her heel and marching up the sweeping staircase that dominated the foyer, her stilettos clicking ominously against the wood with each step.
I followed Chance into the kitchen. Earnest, one of my other dads, was preparing dinner and I assumed Valor was in his study, and the fourth, Creed, was upstairs with the boys.
When I was growing up, Mother had been the most hands-on parent, but apparently I’d burned her out as Creed had mostly taken over with Leon and Tobin.