“I suppose you have x-ray vision too?” I scoffed.
“Not quite—close enough, though.” When I didn’t respond, as if I didn’t know he was joking, he explained, “Shelley told me.”
“Good to see I’m the talk of the town,” I muttered, staring out the window at the cathedral of green. “Feel free to add in something juicy.”
He laughed and the sound rumbled softly through the car. Through me. “You can’t move to a place this size and expect that everyone won’t know your name and talk about the beautiful new girl.”
I stifled a groan.
“Will your boyfriend be joining you?” he asked, tone casual.
“No,” I replied bluntly.
“Oh, girlfriend?”
“What? No.”
“Ex-boyfriend you separated from but are hoping you will get back with?”
I didn’t want to think about Tom. Maybe it was because the armor I deluded myself to thinking I had was only a shadow, and shadows needed light to remain. And the thought of Tom only spread more darkness—more armor—in theory, but I was too fragile to carry it right now.
“Yes, an ex-boyfriend,” I snapped. “But no, I’m not hoping to get back with him. I really couldn’t think of anything more nauseating than being with any man who cheats on his girlfriend or sleeps around.”
Ethan’s eyes stayed on the road. “You wear a ring on your engagement finger, so I just assumed.”
“You assumed wrong.”
“A gift from your ex-boyfriend then?”
“Really, Ethan, you don’t give up, do you.”
A little smile played on his face. “Nope. I always go for what I want, Amy.”
His inference didn’t escape me. I sighed. “If you really must know, the ring was a gift from my mother.”
“Well, your mother has good taste.”
“Hadgood taste,” I murmured. Unexpectedly, pain stung my heart. I sought refuge toward the window, away from his gaze. The memories always came back in fragments, like broken shards of glass, glinting against a black abyss.
A horrible pain flared in my head; the side of my face was wet and warm. For a moment there was no sound, the world had gone silent. Cold air brushed against my cheeks. My vision swum with shades of black and red. I turned my head, and the sound came rushing in like two sharply clashing cymbals. I blinked trying to clear my vision.
I went to a theatre once. It had giant red velvet curtains, and a fan blew across the stage, making the black ties swish in front of it. That’s what it looked like now.
It took me a moment to realize that it was my mother’s hair swaying in front of her bloody face.
It took me another long moment to register we were hanging upside down.
Her lips were parted. I cried out her name as I stared at her, my heart feeling like it was being torn in half, waiting for her to blink, waiting for her lips to move, waiting for her to draw a breath. Blood slithered over her forehead like the curtain dropping on some horror stage show.
The smell of gas burned up my nose.
The darkness swarmed in, and mind shut down as if it didn’t want to remember anymore.
When I woke again, my head throbbed, my neck was in a brace, and tubes ran out of my arms. Dad was sitting by my bed, his head down, his shoulders slumped. I murmured his name. He lifted his head, his skin so white it was almost gray. He was barely breathing, his hands clenched so tight hisknuckles were white, and his eyes were bloodshot and swollen. He made a whimpering sound of pure pain as he tried to speak. He didn’t need to tell me she was dead. The look of agony in his eyes told me well before he spoke. My hearing must have revolted because as he spoke the sound got lost among the screaming in my head.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Ethan said softly, shunting me back to the car. The empathy in his voice was surprising, since I hadn’t expected any type of depth beneath his perfectly curated surface.
“It was a car accident. We were T-boned by a drunk driver at an intersection. I walked out—she didn’t.”
