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For the first time since she came back into the apartment to tell us about the fires, Bryony blanches a little. “I mean, she’s been through some shit,” she says. “I don’t know a lot of it, she keeps it to herself, and anyway, it isn’t my story to tell. If you want to know, you should ask her.”
“I don’t want to ask her anything. I want to know what you’re talking about.”
Bryony rolls her eyes. “Nice try,” she says. “I’m not going to tell you my best friend’s secrets just because you’re cute.”
Malon wrinkles his nose. “But you have put a good word in for me, right?”
She rolls her eyes again. “You don’t want to hear my opinion about you,” she says.
“Why is that?”
“I think it might make you like me less,” she says.
“And you’re worried about how much I like you?”
“Not particularly,” she replies. “I’m worried that Trine will get annoyed if she knows I’m giving you shit.”
“Are you giving him shit?” I ask. I can’t help but smile at the expression on her face.
“No, but if he keeps this up, I will be.”
I’m about to ask her what exactly she plans to do when the car stops in front of a gated mansion. I can only see trees surrounding it. There’s no way to see inside the property from where we are. All I know for a fact is that it’s extremely large, flanked by yellowing trees that look like they don’t belong in Florida.
“Here?” the driver asks.
“Yes,” Bryony says. She hands him a wad of cash and thanks him under her breath. “I appreciate it.”
She says something else, but it’s a mumble, and I don’t quite catch it.
We get out of the car together. Malon lags behind us. It’s hot as fuck outside, which surprises me considering how overcast it is. A warm breeze blows past us, the trees swaying in our direction. They’re very tall, and they look like they’re about to fall on us. They sway so close that Bryony actually takes a step back, muttering something under her breath.
But I’m barely focusing on her.
I look past her, at Trine. She’s flanked by Rei and Misha, and they’re both very close to her. She’s still wearing what she was when we left the apartment, tiny shorts that cling to her shapely legs, the flimsy fabric of her shirt moving with the breeze.
Even from here, I can see her cross her arms in front of her chest, holding herself. Misha approaches her, his arm draped around her. He pulls her close. Rei doesn’t do anything, he just tilts his head down to look at her, as if he’s waiting for her to do or say something.
I’m just watching, wondering what they’re both saying to each other. I barely notice that Malon comes up to me and stands over my shoulder. “Don’t you get jealous, Father?”
“Of you? No.”
He laughs, no humor in his voice. “No,” he says. “Not of me. Of them.”
I turn to look at him. His eyes are narrow, his cheeks red from the wind. He’s a little taller than me. He obviously works out a lot, his muscles bulging under the fabric of his white shirt.
I’ve noticed his tattoos before–they look a bit like Misha’s, but they’re thicker, darker, more intricate. I know some of it is in latin, I can tell that just from a glance, but I don’t know exactly what any of the ink says. I don’t think he’s going to show me and I don’t particularly want him to.
“Aren’t you going to answer me?” he asks. “That’s not very kind of you.”
“I don’t know what you expect me to say,” I reply, shrugging my shoulders. “Trine does whatever she wants. Obviously.”
He scoffs. “And that doesn’t upset you?”
I’m not sure what to say. I don’t think it upsets me, but in truth, I haven’t really thought about it. “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging my shoulders. “I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?” he echoes, laughter in his voice. “You don’t sound particularly certain, Father.”
“Honestly, I haven’t thought about it,” I reply.
