Chapter 20
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I’m not really aconfrontationkinda girlie.
Clara
Mom:what’s your address
“No capitalization. No punctuation,” Lukas mutters over the sound of his blow drier.
Since I’m trying not to panic, I’m focusing fully on Lukas’s hair. Freshly-showered Lukas smells nice, and his long dark hair goesfwooshpretty. And after the several showers he’s taken since I drew on him a few nights ago, he is no longer glittery.
I should ask for brush pens.
I bet the nibs would feel cool and nice on his body—and mine for that matter.
I bet he’d shiver for me while begging me to torture him.
I should ask Zakery to tattoo more coloring pages on his brother once I’m bored of the firebird and dragon…but first I’m going to paint both pink and purple, condemning him to wear shirts forever. He really shouldn’t be walking around with everything justoutin public for the sake of a stupid brand, anyway.
It’s indecent.
He belongs to his future wife’s eyes only.
Lukas hands me back my phone while I’m gleefully getting lost in the idea of becominghis wife. “Leave her on read. She can’t reach you without permission. Trying to is trespassing. You’re safe.”
Safe.
Turning off the blow drier, Lukas shakes out his hair, then reaches for his shaving cream.
My poor smitten heart stutters, and I don’t wake up from the trance until a strong whiff of aftershave hits me like smelling salts.
Smiling knowingly, Lukas watches me, taps his cheek, and says, “Kiss.”
I tip up on my toes and peck his nice soft cheek, happy, until I remember I am still holding an unanswered message from my mother. My happiness shrivels up. “I feel like I should reply.”
“Any reply that isn’t our address won’t go over well, and telling her our address would mean inviting her to drive hours to a town she can’t enter without my all-clear at several checkpoints.”
Managing a labored breath, I murmur, “I’ve been thinking about my family…about cutting them off. But it seems cruel to let things end like this.”
“You don’t owe them an explanation.”
“Still.”
“No matter how much you explain yourself, it won’t go over well. They will take it as blame and react defensively.”
“Still.”
“There is no way to protect against them making you out to be the monster who left.”
I find his eyes. “Still…” I want to give them the honest last chance to be…different. To choose better. That’s my character. That is a reflection of who I am confidently becoming.
He slips my phone from my fingers, types something out, and puts the device directly into my pant pocket, lingering with his hand on my thigh. “What are we making for your family on Saturday?” he asks.
My back straightens. “What did you reply?”
“I sent our address. You want closure. I understand. Let your old family meet your new one. Let’s see the contrast in high definition.” He strides from his bathroom, stopping in the archway and glancing over his shoulder. “But…you should know…I am not like you. I will not be kind, and if they successfully guilt you into agreeing to go back with them, I will not let you. You will need to make that choice again when they are gone and when you can tell me it is what youwant; otherwise, I will never let it happen.”
