Chapter 28 #2
I shake my head. She’s right, it is nice. Or at least it should be. But the last time I was dragged to a family gathering against my will, someone bled out on the kitchen floor.
“I’m fine,” I say.
Her eyes narrow.
“Okay, no one’s allowed to say that anymore.”
She pats my hand as she leans in for another of her quick kisses, but it’s over before I can even register the feeling of her lips on mine.
“Are you upset with me?” I ask.
“No,” she says, brown eyes rounding with confusion.
“Then, stop doing that,” I demand, gripping her face and pulling her back in.
I kiss her until I can breathe again, then a little longer just because she lets me.
“Didn’t anybody tell you guys it’s rude to start eating before everyone has their food?”
Isaac’s voice interrupts my meditations, and we look up to him standing in the doorway holding a platter of meat.
Iris picks up a roll from the table and lobs it at him.
It hits him in the chest before bouncing back and rolling somewhere under the table.
Isaac’s lip curls in response, a flash of red in his eyes as he sets the platter down.
“I’m glad to know I’m not the only one,” I mutter.
“Only one, what?” Iris asks.
“The only one you torture,” Isaac answers on behalf of us both.
She smirks and does a little shimmy in her chair, brushing her hair aside.
“Oh, please, your lives would be empty without me.”
“True,” Isaac says.
I only nod and hope she doesn’t notice.
I’m surprised to find that Isaac’s food is delicious. Not that I was expecting it to be bad; I just figured a succubus wouldn’t have much experience with cooking. But from the looks of it, this is nothing new to Isaac.
I try not to scarf it down like an animal, but that’s harder than it sounds when your last home-cooked meal wasn’t even cooked.
“Any news about the tenure position?” Iris asks, speaking into her wine glass.
“Nah,” Isaac answers around a bite of food. “The old hags are dragging their feet. I’ll be lucky if they decide before the term is over.”
“Damn, that sucks,” Iris says. “Isaac teaches ancient alchemy at Brightburn.”
“The demon academy?” I ask.
Isaac nods.
“Before you ask, no, I haven’t made any deals. And yes, their facilities are nicer than Highcrest.”
“Oh, I know, their library is way better,” I say, gathering up the last bit of food on my plate.
My ears droop when I realize there’s nothing left, and when I look up, they are both staring at me, identical frowns on their pretty faces.
“You’ve been to Brightburn?” Iris asks.
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I have a few friends from pittball who go there. You haven’t been? We should go, their parties are fun.”
“Can we keep this one?” Isaac asks.
There’s a soft thump under the table, followed by Isaac hissing out, “Oww.” But I pretend not to notice.
We spend a couple of hours idling around the table before moving back into the library, where we sit talking about nothing in particular. Mostly, Isaac tells stories about Brightburn and Iris, and I listen until Isaac rises and declares that he’s going out for dessert.
He offers us an obligatory invitation that we both decline, leaving us listening to the crackle of the fireplace as we stare at each other.
“So we’re friends?” I ask after a few prolonged minutes of silence.
“What?”
“You and me. You told Isaac we’re friends.”
She sits across from me on the long sofa, knees pulled in to her chest, and levels her gaze at me, a small smirk on her lips.
“Aren’t we?” she asks.
I used to think so, but I’m pretty sure friends aren’t supposed to hurt, not like this.
“Yeah. I guess.”
She sighs.
“That’s too bad. Because I’m starting to feel like twice won’t be enough.”
Her eyes are playful as she speaks, coy, but she does not know what she’s suggesting.
“Iris, we can’t…”
I can’t.
“Sure, we can,” she whispers. “No one’s stopping us.”
“Yeah, but I am. I’m not letting you waste your time with me.”
She ignores my protest, crawling forward and easing herself between my legs to rest her head on my chest. And even though I shouldn’t, I wrap her in my arms.
“My dad used to say love is never wasted,” she says, fingering one of my locs. “I used to think that was stupid. Especially after he died. But now I think I understand.”
“What happened?” I ask.
She doesn’t stiffen as she did the first time I asked this question; instead, she sighs.
“We don’t know. Isaac came home from school, and he was gone. Mom died about a week later. Just didn’t wake up one morning.”
My hold tightens, and she sighs, releasing the tension in her back and shoulders. But even this tangled embrace doesn’t feel close enough. It never does. And I suspect it won’t until I find a way to pry open my chest and let her crawl inside.
“Your mom starved after he left, didn’t she?”
She nods, the firelight reflected in her dark eyes.
“I was so mad at her,” she says. “I couldn’t understand why? Why wouldn’t she just find someone else? Why wouldn’t she just eat?”
She flicks a little piece of lint into the fire and watches as it sparks and burns.
“I thought she must not have loved us enough, not enough to stay, at least. But I know better now.”
Her brows dip down briefly before the wrinkle between her eyes smooths out, and she turns to face me.
“He would have done anything for her,” she says. “Because that’s what you do when you love someone as much as he loved her. And she didn’t starve because she wouldn’t eat, she starved because he was gone.”
She lifts her head, eyes bleary with unshed tears. I brush them away as they start to pour over, and the ringing in my ears finally stops, as she whispers, “I don’t want to starve, Elliot.”