Darksoul (11 page)

“No,” said Mom.

I stopped mid-backward-step. “No?”

“We weren’t…” She closed her eyes for a moment. “I wasn’t done.”

“You, ah…” A nervous laugh bubbled out of me. “You weren’t?”

“No.”

“I think I’ll wait in the kitchen, Soph,” said Allie, her voice thick.

Mom grabbed her han
d before she could turn to go. And in that gesture, I saw everything.

Good morning, Allie. Sorry, darling, I’m watching a movie with Hazel tonight. Hazel, honey, can you wait a
second? I’m going to call someone. Allie, sweetheart, I missed you at work today. Let’s get dinner after Hazel and I go bowling. Good night, Al. Sweet dreams.

Love you, darling.

Love you, Al.

“Mom,” I said.

“Hazel, this is…” She steeled herself and, interlacing her fingers through Allie’s, looked straight into my eyes. “This is Allie. And she’s…” Mom took a deep breath. “She’s my girlfriend.”

Chapter
11

I stared at her.

Mom’s eyes immediately filled with tears. She apologized to me, asked to please find it in me to accept her as she was, and I simply stared. Not because I was stricken. Or shocked. Because even though I was, I appreciated her for having the strength to tell me.

Knowing just what to do, I
said, “Mom.”

She sniffled.
“Y-Yes, sweetheart.”

“
Let me try this again.” I turned toward Allie and extended a hand toward her. “Hi,” I said, and smiled. She hesitated before slipping her fingers in mine. We shook, and Mom blinked. “I’m Hazel. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “It’s…it’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Um, this might be too soon, but I want to make something clear.” I took a step toward Mom, tugged her close, and curled my arm around her shoulders. She looked startled, but relaxed when she realized I wasn’t going to pull away. “This woman,” I said, “means the world to me. You know that, don’t you? You’re taking good care of her, right, Allie?”

Allie smiled even though there were tears in her eyes. “Yes. Of course I
am.”

“I think…” I gave Mom a gentle squeeze. “I think it’s safe to say that
my mom was hesitant to tell me about you. She probably thought I’d reject her or something. And I’m just sitting here, like, are you serious?” Meeting Mom’s gaze, I said, “You feed me, clothe me, give me a bed to sleep on and work your butt off to keep me alive—and you think I’m going to throw a table at you because you like boobs better than that nasty guy thing?”

Allie g
ave a bout of startled laughter. My vocabulary was a little frank—who am I kidding? It was totally inappropriate—but it was what I honestly felt.

“And Allie?” I said
gently, turning back toward her. “I mean it when I say that it’s nice to finally meet you. I’m not freaked out. Promise.”

It took me a moment to realize both of them were crying.

“Oh, no,” I said, looking from Allie to Mom and back. “Oh, no. What’d I do? Mom, I’ll try to be good—I’m sorry—”

Mom
hugged me, sobbing and laughing into my hair.

The three of us had dinner together. Conversation consisted of me asking questions—how long they’d known each othe
r, when and how they’d met,
etc.
They didn’t seem to mind. Oftentimes I caught them sharing glances and smiling at each other. Their hands were interlaced under the table.

After
the meal, I excused myself, clomped upstairs and rushed into my room. I whipped out my phone and dialed Ash’s number. I needed to talk to someone. I loved my mom, and because I didn’t care about sexual orientation that much—straight, bi, gay, queer, trans, be whatever you want to be, I’ll love you anyway—I couldn’t have rejected her. It still didn’t mean I wasn’t shocked. This was huge.

Jamming a hand against my forehead, I pace
d. Then I stopped when I saw that my sketchbook—which I’d left on the bed—was gone.

Ash wasn’t picking up.

Keeping the cell sandwiched between my ear and shoulder, I looked under the covers for the damn thing. The knives made a sharp sliding sound where they rested under the pillow. Io, who’d disappeared for a moment, unfurled under my nose, tilting her head to the side.

“Have you seen my sketchbook?” I asked her, redialing Ash’s n
umber.

Behind me, a smooth
English voice said, “Ah. You’re looking for this.”

My heart stopped.

Slowly, as if I were in a horror movie, I turned around.

Sure enough, Ash stood against
the wall, holding up my sketchpad. His dark boots were crossed at the ankles, as though he were relaxed. The eternal shadow slid around the back of his neck before fluttering away. He wore his usual hoodie, and I stared at it for two seconds longer than I should have. The drawstrings were uneven. Like they’d always been.

Io let out a nervous squeal
at the sight of him and cowered behind my shoulder. “Ash,” I said, “what the hell—?”

“Those kni
ves under your pillow,” he said, the side of his lips tilting up. “Charming.”

“I—” I struggled to get myself together. “Okay. Whatever. I was calling you—”

“And I answered.”

I stopped.

“I think you were looking for this,” he said, tossing me the sketchbook. Still not sure he was there, I caught it. “Cute little drawings you’ve got there. Keep working on it and you might get to old Slade’s level.”

“Nobody
can get to his level.”

“True.”

“You were supposed to say,
no, Hazel, you’ll get there.
God. Where the hell is the encouragement these days?”

“In between my legs.”

“Okay, how in the—” I stared at him, wanting to beat my head against the wall. “My window’s locked, you didn’t knock on the front door, and I didn’t see you when I first came into the room—”

“I fail to see your question
here.”

My breath left me in an incredulous whoosh. “Goodness, Ash, you’re a freak.”

“Depends on the location. Bed? Most definitely. School? Only in the bathrooms. Your room? Well—”

Nasty boy talk. As always. “Shut your dirty mouth and tell me how you got in. Now.”

“Mmm,” he murmured, looking amused. The side of his lips tilted up.

“Well?” I demanded.

Mom knocked on the door. “Hazel?”

Uh-oh. “Co—coming!” I threw
the sketchbook on my bed and looked at Ash.
“Closet,” I hissed, and then walked over to the door, self-consciously smoothing down my hair.

I opened it a crack and said,
“Yeah?”

Mom smiled. “Allie and I are going out. I just wanted to let you know, okay?”

“Cool. Have fun.” But before she turned to go, I grabbed her arm. I had a question. A very important one. I was nervous about asking. We were on delicate ground, after all. So I didn’t want to push it, didn’t want to be too prying.

Mom could tell I had something on my mind. “What is it?”

Swallowing, I stepped out and closed the door behind me. “Mom, when you…had me. Did you not know…that you liked women back then? Back when you were”—I did the math—“seventeen?”

She wouldn’t have been old enough to adopt me. She had to have had me. A mistake. She never told me, never mentioned my dad and never called me an unplanned little shit, but I knew that’s what I was.

Mom’s smile faded.

“Okay, w
rong question,” I said, seeing the look on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply—”

“You didn’t imply anything, honey.”

“I just—I don’t know—”

“You’re fine.” She leaned
in and planted a gentle kiss on my forehead. With a soft thumb, she wiped the smear of lipstick off. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” I murmured, watching as she
walked away, her dark hair swinging behind her. Like me, she always kept it in a ponytail.

Once she was gone
, I stepped back into the room, ready to interrogate some British ass. He was nowhere to be seen. Must’ve gone into my closet like I told him to. Good boy.

But when I opened the door and flipped on the light, there was no one there
. Scrunching up my eyebrows, I walked in. Nothing. Not under my shoes. Not between my clothes.

Behind me. “Looking for someone?”

Startled, I swiveled around. Ash was leaning against the door, head tilted back. He looked as if he were trying not to smile.

“Ash, what the hell—” When he
bit back a smile again, I said, “It’s not funny. Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Popping in and out of nowhere!”

“I was in your room this whole time. You just didn’t see me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “‘This whole time’?”

He said nothing.

“You’ve been here for five minutes,” I said.

“Ah.”

I couldn’t deal with this anymore. “Get out,” I said, but he shifted just as I went for the doorknob, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “I’m getting claustrophobic, what with your skyscraper body crammed in here. It’s killing me.”

“I’ll move. But only if you promise me to go on a date with Hunter next week.”

“What in the—” This had to be a joke. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Why the fuck not? Weren’t you supposed to be madly in love with him by the second time you talked to him?”

“You’re kidding me. Right?”

The
side of his mouth tilted up. “That’s the way it happens in Sumi’s books, you know. Girl meets boy. Boy is, of course, hot. Brooding, the fucked-up type. The girl likes that. Wants to fix him. And he gets to be in her pants by the third day. It’s a brilliant model.”

Yeah. Wow. Talk about disgusting. “Okay, asshole, unlike you and
cool fictional girls, I like to get to know people
before
I let them see my boobs. Now, if you would please—”

“You don’t find him attractive?”
Ash cocked his head at me, raven swaths tumbling across his eyes. “At all?”

No. I mean, yes, but no. Because of—

Not because of you. Not at all.

Damn. Dangerous territory. Must. Retreat. Now. “Yeah, well, I just—” B
ut Ash was still staring at me, and the words caught in my throat. Jerkily, I smoothed down the front of my sweater. “Maybe—maybe I’m just not into the dating thing.”

He
didn’t bat an eye. “So fuck him.”

“I’m into the
marriage
thing,” I said and, not knowing what the hell I was doing, twirled for him. “Commitment, you know. Walking down the aisle, flowers and shit, the whole deal. Scary stuff. Hunter would run away in half a second.”

“Is that…” I
hummed the wedding march song, waltzing toward him in my tippy-toes as if I were in high heels, and he trailed off.

“I wouldn’t trip,” I said, twirling again. “I
’m too sexy for that. I’d be graceful. Like a Victoria’s Secret model. I might even wear a leather dress—”

His
expression glazed over, and I stopped on my tracks. “Ash?” I said, alarmed. His eyes were fixed on me, unseeing and lost, wounded and warm. Were those—tears? “Hey, you…okay?”

He stared at me, looking as though he could
fall over.

“Did I—did I do something wrong?” I asked. “I promise I won’t mention weddings again, okay? I know dudes don’t like those, and—”

Without a word, he spun and opened the door, walking into my room with the ease of someone who’d done it a thousand times before. For a moment, he stood with his back to me. Then he turned toward me and lifted a hand, curling his index finger. I edged toward him, swallowing.

Not close enough. He beckoned me again.

“Listen,” I
said, “I don’t think—”

He pulled me in
to his arms and brought me against his chest. A cool pressure slithered around my waist. Ignoring it, I moved to return his hug, but he stopped me with a soft
shh
.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he whispered. “Just let me hold you.”

I grew still at his words. He tightened his hold and buried his face into my hair. Sometimes, when we hugged, it was like this. My stupid romantic mind always wanted to think it meant something. But on Monday, when we returned to school, I knew it’d be as if this never happened; he’d have his ten girlfriends curled inside his arms, and I’d want to kick him for it. To be honest, it was weirdly fun.

It was also exhausting.

“Zel?” he whispered.

Quietly. “Yeah.”

He pulled away, pressed his thumbs against the hollows of my throat and leaned down, so close that I could taste the sweet trace of Milky Way and cigarettes on his skin. He breathed soft Russian against my mouth. But before I could ask him what he’d said—
Jolt.

—nothingness—

—nothingness—

—nothingness—

My…bedroom…ceiling?

I blinked at it from my sleepy sprawl on the bed.
Something jabbed against the back of my head. The knives I’d left under the pillow. Blearily, I sat up. My sketchbook was lying next to me. Io had been sleeping on top of it, but at the feel of me moving, she woke and fluttered up to my shoulder.

I
frowned, staring at the dark room. Something felt weird. Wrong. Did Ash come over? And…hug me? He’d been here. I swear. The memory was a faint blur, bringing with it the taste of caramel and smoke. But the more I thought about it, the more it faded. Him speaking Russian against my lips. Holding me. And…um…

And…

What was I talking about again?

When I grabbed my
cell and looked at the screen, I saw that it was ten at night. A nap, I guess. I grabbed the knives and, yawning, got to my feet.