“What does that mean?
“I already have one reason to kick your ass,” I say. “Don’t give me another.”
And with that, I’m gone. She may have forgiven him.
But that’s one thing I’ll never do.
Icalled her my girlfriend for the first time, and it was in a fit of rage. I mean, we haven’t even discussed what we are.
I know I shouldn’t call her. Because Cam could find out… he could hear us. But I do it anyway.
She answers on the first ring.
“Please come save me.” She sighs.
“That bad, huh?” I fight a smile. Not because she was having a bad time just like I am, but because she answered so fast, like she was waiting for me to call.
“We couldn’t even make it through dinner without my mom telling me I need to come home,” she continues. “That I don’t have any friends and that the world’s out to get me and—”
“And you didn’t tell her you were seeing a super-hot and charming hockey player?”
“Oh yeah, that was the first argument I made.” She laughs, and I wish more than anything I was hearing in person. “Cam was sitting right next to me, and I said, ‘You know what, Mom, Declan Sanderson doesn’t seem to mind what I look like.’”
Her scar is my favorite thing about her despite it being her least favorite feature. And it’s not just because it’s what makes her Ember, but because I love how she’s no longer aware of it around me. And how she’s slowly becoming less aware of it in public. I love how her finger travels the sliver across her forehead when she thinks… or how goosebumps pop up on her arms when my thumb brushes the piece along her cheek every time I kiss her.
“What happened when you told her you weren’t coming home?”
“Who said I told her no?”
“Because you don’t do anything you don’t want to,” I respond. “For example, meemailingyou for almost two months before you gave me your number.”
“I kind of blew up on her,” she whispers.
“Blew up, how?”
“I don’t know. All of the pent-up anger just kind of came out.” She pauses. “And I said the only person who’s ever been ashamed of me, besides myself, is her. I don’t know. It was mean, and I shouldn’t have said it.”
“Did you say anything that wasn’t true?”
Silence.
“Then you have nothing to be sorry for,” I add.
“What about you?” she wonders. “How was Thanksgiving in the Sanderson household?”
“Let’s just say I’m happy to be out of here first thing tomorrow.” I sigh.
“That bad, huh?” She mimics my earlier words.
“Let’s just say you’re not the only one who went off on a parent tonight.”
“You told me you never fight with your mom.” Her voice is soft, sad even.
“I didn’t.”
“He was there?” I can hear her bed shifting as she sits up. “She invited him?”
“She forgave him.”
