My stomach in knots, I slowly returned downstairs and to the kitchen. Pausing before I entered, out of sight, I listened to Declan’s happy chatter and laughter, Jacy’s warm responses. I clenched my fists, my jaw tight. I’d have to leave this house, and Jacy, behind. What did I owe her? Nothing. If I abandoned her, she’d be stuck without a job.
“I can’t make that my problem,” I grumbled, my voice low. “She’s good for us, but I can find someone just as good as she is somewhere else.”
Stepping into the kitchen, I brought the happy talk to an abrupt halt. Both Declan and Jacy obviously saw my grim expression and tight jaw before I arranged my expression into a more pleasant demeanor.
“Can I help?” I asked, forcing lightness into my voice, my face.
“Uh, no,” Jacy replied. “We’re about to make a salad, weren’t we, kiddo?”
Declan, ever aware of the fine nuances of people’s emotions, studied me for a long moment before finally returning his attention to meal preparation. “Yeah.”
He stood on a stool to break lettuce into a bowl while Jacy brandished a paring knife to good effect. I sat at the table, half my mind on escape with the other half listening to Jacy explain the nutritional merits of tomatoes, carrots, onions, and cucumber.
“I don’t like onions,” Declan declared.
“Too bad,” Jacy commented. “Around here, you eat what you’re given. Got it?”
I chuckled inwardly at the stern mother-like tone Jacy offered and the face that Declan made in response.
“I’ll pick ‘em out,” he said.
“You can picksomeout,” Jacy replied. “But you have to eat a few. Who knows, you might find you like onions after all.”
“Blech.” Declan stuck his tongue out as Jacy cut green onions into the salad.
“Cover the onions with salad dressing and you’ll never know they’re there.”
“Why do I hafta eat ‘em, anyway?”
“They’re good for you. You want to grow up to be as big as your dad, don’t you?”
Declan eyed me over his shoulder. “No. So I don’t need onions.”
“Too bad, so sad, sucks to be you.”
I couldn’t control the burst of laughter that Jacy’s statement brought. I tried to cover it with my hand, but Declan’s brows lowered in disapproval. I snickered and earned for myself a scowl. His young, cherubic face wasn’t meant for such expressions, and seeing it only made me laugh harder.
“Daaad.”
“You’ll eat your onions, child.”
“Don’t call me a child.”
“That’s what you are,” Jacy said, eyeing him sidelong. “Or are you a thirty-year-old dwarf?”
“Dad’s making fun of me.”
“Dads are entitled to do that. Eat your onions, grow up to be bigger than he is, and you can get your revenge by beating him in an arm-wrestling contest.”
Her meal wasn’t just excellent. Just seeing her beautiful face across the table had me thinking twice about running away again. Leave her behind? Take her with us? Neither was a good option. As we ate, making light conversation, I realized I couldn’t run. Not again.
I’m not leaving Jacy. Whatever happens, I’ll protect them both from the council’s wrath.
Chapter Three
Jacy
Hey, Beth, here’s your daily e-mail. I’m fine. Better than fine. I don’t work for a narcissistic rapist, nor do I think he’s a sociopath. Avery’s emotions are real, not faked. He did come home the other day with a weird look on his face, like he’s worried about something. Since then, he’s been sweet, kind, cheerful, even though I can sense something bothering him under the surface. No, it’s not a plan to skin me alive and make lampshades.
