Chapter 7
Hyacinth
That kiss. Isn’t there a country singer that sang about “that kiss?” Yeah, I never knew a kiss could be like that. That a man, a scorpion, a shifter, could have so much power behind his kiss.
I’m dizzy as I step into the sun, and I can’t complain about it. If every kiss from Sting made me dizzy and giddy like this, I’d be a happy lady.
The smile fizzles away when Lily steps outside, back in yesterday’s clothes, looking huffy, and tired with a very fake smile stuck to her face. “What are you smiling about?” she asks, her voice sharp.
I raise an eyebrow in response and she apologizes…kind of. “Sorry, I just—feel a little nervous. You put all these thoughts in my head, making me doubt Patrick. I tried to call him, but it went straight to voicemail. I hope that means he’s on the plane already.”
Without a word, just a nod of my head, I step past her and into the house.
The long ride back to Vegas should start with an empty bladder.
And a fully thermos cup of water, just in case.
And maybe a leftover pancake wrapped in a napkins.
Again, just in case. I can’t imagine that the car Sting called for us would have any sort of danger attached to it.
But after the past twenty-four house, I refuse to be bamboozled by anything or anyone.
It reminds me of us at twelve and thirteen, moving between foster homes, trying to figure out what we could bring with us…just in case. That was right before we met our forever family. Right before we found safety, peace, and love that wouldn’t end.
Perhaps, I muse, as I wrap the two pancakes in a napkin, this is a sign that there is more “forever” love waiting for me.
I touch my lips, swollen from being kissed and devoured.
Even after having Jenni and Matt love us forever, be our parents, friends, guides through teenagerhood and into adulthood, my trust in the institution of love and relationships is low—if existent at all.
It was just a kiss. It doesn’t mean anything.
I tell myself as I fill my cup and head to the waiting car outside.
It’s black and sleek, but thankfully not a limo.
I don’t think I could get into another limo.
Not after yesterday. Lily leans against the door, waiting for me, looking care-free and easy.
Even though that’s been her personal most of our lives, it strikes me like a slap in the face.
Like I’ve over-reacted to being stranded in the desert.
I’m being overly emotional or suspicious about Patrick and his intentions.
It makes me angry.
We stand there. Two sisters who need each other, and also who can’t see what the other is seeing from two feet away.
“Look, I know you don’t trust Patrick. You might be right.” I snort derisively. She puts up a placating hand. “You’re probably right. But I have to see him face to face and figure it out. I can’t just walk away without knowing one thousand percent in my heart that he doesn’t love me.”
“What if he loves you, but in a twisted way? A way that leaves you injured, hurt, or worse?” At that, she jerks her head back as if I’ve slapped her. As if this is the first time a thought such as this has entered her head. Even after last night.
“Well, I know that isn’t healthy. I’m not a dummy. Really!” she says when I raise an eyebrow at her. Arms out, I step into her hug. Forgiveness. Trust. Loyalty. My sister and I are going to be okay.
“I want you to be happy. And safe,” I say as we let go of each other.
“Okay. I will be. Let’s go.” She opens the door. I scrunch up my face, feet planted to the rocky soil beneath me. When she looks up out of the open door at me, mimicking my scrunched face, I know what I need to do. “You coming?”
Sighing, I say, “I am. It’s just…I like it here.
” Biting my lip, I don’t want to admit too much too soon.
” Lily’s eyes are wide, honest. She nods, encouraging me.
It isn’t often the tables switch. I take a deep breath and plow forward.
“I don’t want to see Patrick. This Vegas weekend party thing is not my jam. ”
Her eyes narrow back to the Lily I know as she steps out of the car, into my space. “So you don’t want to talk to my fiancé that I’ve known for two years, but you want to stay here? In the middle of nowhere. With no wheels of your own?”
When she puts it like that, it doesn’t sound very smart. “I didn’t say I was going to stay. Go, get in the car.” I shoo her forward with my hands. She gives me her signature eye roll and hops into the car.
One foot in the car, I pause, letting myself soak in the sight of the adobe house, the outbuilding filled with adorable baby foxes, the desert landscape in hues of pinks and browns—inviting and deadly at the same time—and sigh.
Am I hoping for one last glimpse of Sting?
One look of longing? One more chance to feel his lips on mine?
No, of course not.
I slide into the cool car and shut the door. The driver asks if we’re ready, then slowly proceeds to drive us down the gravel driveway to the paved highway, taking us back to bright lights, civilization, and idiot men who seemingly do not have our best interest at heart.
If nothing else, I’m protecting my sister, the way I’ve always done.