“I don’t want you to explain or toknowanything,” I snap. “The way I see it, we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, and we have an easy, fun relationship. No big revelations. No emotional sucker punches. Okay?”
“Elle—”
“Okay?”
He squeezes me again. “Okay, Sunshine. Okay.”
I don’t realize I’m panting until he agrees, my chest collapsing then inflating rapidly. My throat hurts from dragging in the ragged breaths. I hug tightly against him, because that night is back.
Mom and Dad and the blackness. And Mira alone during it all.
I wake to sunshine on my face and the smell and sound of frying bacon. Mira’s laughter rings out like a bell. I can just see them there, Dad grinning over at her, pancake batter on his face, Mira’s eyes wide and—and obviously, it’s not Dad. But for a second there, it feels like it.
I sit up, rubbing my eyes.
I know.
The words from last night replay in my mind as I pull on my robe and walk into the living-room-kitchen area. Rhett stands at thestove, winking over at Mira, pancake batter on his face. I blink, drinking in the scene.
The streaks of silver in Rhett’s hair glisten in the morning light. Mira turns to me, bug-eyed and excited. “Look, Sissy!”
I laugh, and Rhett smiles in relief. “Can I have some?” I ask.
He grins. “Sure, Sunshine. You can have extra.”
“Not more thanme!” Mira yells, giggling.
CHAPTER 13
RHETT
As I dish out the pancakes, I watch Elle. She’s all smiles and easy jokes with Mira. Her thin robe clings to her hips, reminding me of last night. The hunger tries to overpower again, but I push it down, ignoring the ache in my groin and the tugging at my heart.
She knows. I know. And now she’s got this Stepford-wife glassiness to her eyes, like she’s silently begging me to avoid reality. Her eyes screampretend. They scream,don’t make me face it.
I sit at the table with them, smiling at her, knowing I’m probably doing more harm than good. Pretending for her sake. I felt it in her last night, the atomic bomb that detonated in her body, then the strange stillness that followed.
“Do you ever draw pictures, Rhett?” Mira asks.
“I like diagrams, maps, things like that,” I tell her. “Measuring a piece of land or building something, draw it out, get an idea of it.”
“I was thinking like unicorns or devils,” Mira says. “But sure, maps are cool too.”
Elle laughs… a little too hard, almost desperately, and it hurts me. Both because I think she’s pretending and also because here I am again, reducing her down to that one event, judging every damn thing through its prism.
She reaches across the table for the syrup, her hand conveniently brushing mine along the way. She smiles, eyes bright, but also afraid. I wish I hadn’t said what I did last night. I smile tightly, and I’m sure she can sense the forced nature of it.
Mira is oblivious, humming a song.
“What’s your favorite subject at school?” I ask.
Mira rolls her eyes. “That sounds like what a grownup reads in a book calledHow to Talk to Kids.”
We all laugh, and it feels real. Believable this time.
Then my cell phone rings. I check it. Marshall.
“I’m sorry,” I say, excusing myself. “I need to take this.”
