I nodded.
“What?” Tabitha asked. My sister tensed in my arms. She never liked Tabitha that much, to be honest. I put Sammy down and looked at Tabitha.
“I’m going to make tea, anyone wants a cup.”
“I’ll help,” Sammy said and followed my mother to our kitchen.
“Yeah, we need to talk.”
She nodded and followed me up the squeaky stairs to my room.
Mom and Sammy’s spirits were still high as they whispered about Elena.
I opened my door, and familiarity welcomed me. It felt good to be surrounded by my belongings. I planted my duffle bag on the bed and went over to the cupboard and put layers on my body.
Mom cleaned up. That night was such a blur of chucking clothes into a duffel bag and creating a mess everywhere.
Mom made my bed and carried clean bedding. A rosy smell replaced the weed that clung to the air. My guitar hung from its hook against the wall.
I found my Cammy on the nightstand, fully charged, but off. I reached for it and switched it on. The dresser, my desk, the carpet with the burn stain, everything was spotless.
I pulled my arms through a shirt as Tabitha flung her arms around my torso from behind and I have to admit, nothing felt normal anymore. Something shifted inside of me.
I rubbed her arm.
“I missed you.”
“Tabitha?” I pulled her arm from me and sat on the edge of my bed, pulling my hands through my hair.
“You don’t have a rider, Blake. You said it yourself—”
My gaze flickered to her. Ice blue irises stared back at me. Her snow white pixie cut hair fitted her oval face. She sure was beautiful. “She is my rider. I felt it the second I saw her. She looks like King Albert.”
Tabita bit on her lower lip as she folded her arms. “So, many dragons and riders don’t have a—”
“You know what we will become.”
“What about me?”
“What about you?” My eyebrows furrowed. “You know how I feel, Tabitha. It was just a scratch.”
“Don’t say that!”
“This is my rider, my salvation.”
“Your salvation?” She chuckled. “Listen to yourself. What the hell happened on the other side of the wall?”
“She did, okay. I’m sorry. I can’t mess this up.”
“She is not your match.”
“She is my match in every single way. I’m sorry. It will not work. I’m tired, so please.” I motioned at the door.
She huffed and rushed to the door, opened it and slammed it with a bang behind her.
I fell onto my bed. I lied about being tired, but what else could I tell her that would not hurt like crap. There was nothing.
She just needed to accept it.
