Page 64 of Up In Flames

He shrugs and lets the squirming cat down to the ground. Mr. Mittens races off to less stressful pastures. “Probably my mom. She always knows everything.”

“Not arguing that one.”

He nods. “Plus, before my father left, I heard him say that he won’t go near my mom when she’s on the rag. That means when she’s screaming.”

It’s a big point in my favor that I don’t snort.

“How’s your mom’s job going?” I ask, trying to distract him, and maybe myself.

He sinks down onto the bed again and lifts the old laptop onto the pillow I make him place between his folded legs and the device. I don’t know. It’s the best I can do to shield him from radiation.

“She said to say thank you for watching me until she can find care. I don’t need care, though. I’m big enough to watch myself. Plus, I told her I don’t bother you.”

“You don’t. In fact, you’re great company.”

And the only person I haven’t chased away. I’m almost happy that Mari just started her job with O.G.R.E., Ltd. I’m not sure what they manufacture, but I swear she’s got the hots for her boss. Every time she brings him up, which is often, she blushes.

At least someone’s finding love. Good thing the Board of Education rejected her in favor of Mrs. Lovelace. Talk about closed door, open window. The job she applied for two days later fits her perfectly.

“Got any suggestions on finding Sampson and making him talk to me?” I ask, since Nicholas is being so wise and helpful.

He just shrugs, already lost in building his empire again.

With a sigh, I pick up my empty glass. “I’m going downstairs for some more tea. Want anything?”

He waves his hand, so engrossed, he can’t speak.

I putter around, cleaning up a little since I haven’t touched the place in weeks and weeks, ever since I precipitously left to go live with Sampson. Everything seems so small. I used to think my home was cozy and warm, but now it just looks ridiculous. I’ve decorated like I’m a ten-year-old girl. It’s all too innocent, and a world away from where I need to be. I’m trapped in a bubble of unreality.

All of a sudden, Nicholas comes pounding down the stairs. “Did you look outside? Look outside! Quick!” And he races past me to the front door, which he slams open.

Great babysitter that I am, I take a few moments to lay my head in my hands while I try to work up the energy to care about whatever might be happening on the street. I’m sure it’s something riveting, like a parade. Or a saber-tooth tiger. Or one of those dire wolves everyone is talking about lately.

But when I walk out the door, I find Nicholas standing at the foot of the large tree from which Sampson rescued me a month ago. And standing next to him is Sampson, wearing his MFD uniform. Both are looking up high into the branches. Parked on the street with the engine idling is the MFD truck. Pete sees me and waves before circling his hand so the truck pulls out.

Sampson, alerted by the sound, turns around to stare at the departing vehicle, his mouth open with disbelief—until he rotates again and sees me. Unbelievable agony scrunches all his features. He begins to shake.

His hands come up as if to ward me off, but then he falls to his knees and hides his face in his hands. And I’m there… except I’m not quite there, not yet. I’ve got some things to say, and he’s got some come-to-enlightenment moments to assimilate. So I stop about ten feet away.

“I thought you quit?”

He heaves a shuddering sigh before looking at me again. Even on his knees, he’s taller than I am. “I took a leave of absence. Pete called me at the hotel I was staying at in Charlotte and told me there was a huge emergency, so I came back. Then he dropped me off here, and I was so in my own world, I didn’t...” His gaze drinks me in like he’s been in the desert for weeks without water and I’m a flowing clean spring. “There’s no emergency, is there?”

“I don’t know. I think there is. And I think the emergency is that you’re a fucking idiot,” I snap.

Nicholas covers his ears and begins to sing before walking past me and back into my house.

The kid is smart. He really is.

“I know,” Sampson agrees. “Look, I can’t do this. I can’t. Let me just...”

But I don’t let him do anything. “First, tell me you lied. Tell me you love me.” Because until he admits that, there’s really no point in talking.

He covers his face again, takes another deep, shuddering breath, before he manages to straighten his spine. From there, he angles onto his feet, his hands dropping to his side. “Fine. I lied,” he admits in a voice devoid of emotion, except for a little wobble on his words. “But admitting that I love you doesn’t change anything. Yes, you were right, and yes, I was spiraling, but my instincts were good.” He straightens even further. “We don’t have a future, Nina, because I love you too much to trap you in whatever world those bastards have cooked up for me. I won’t do it, and there’s nothing you can say that will make me sacrifice you to that life.”

Something about the way he calls them bastards gives me pause. First, that’s definitely using a curse word, which he doesn’t do—most of the time, unless he’s deeply upset by Xy. Second, he’s intimating they’ve got a plan for him, which is disturbing. “Did they contact you?”

“Followed me right to the hotel. Long talks. I visited The Council headquarters in the Tennessee mountains, got interrogated, and did some interrogation of my own. Bastards. Fucking bastards, the whole lot of them.”