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“Blue’s my favorite color. Mom, can I dye my hair blue?”
Rosemary chuckled. “I don’t think so, kiddo.”
“But, Mom,” Darla whined.
“Maybe we’ll get you some clip-on strands,” Rosemary countered.
Byte straightened her posture and left the comfort of the pillar and walked to the glass door.
Darla placed her palm against the glass. Never in a million years would Byte think to do something so cliché, but she did. She placed her hand over Darla’s through the glass. She’d seen apes do it on TV and wondered if she looked as lost as the apes did. It was like they were seeking human interaction. They needed validation that they were worth someone’s time and attention, even with something as basic as matching their handprint.
“I think clips would look good on you,” Byte said, then turned and walked off the porch. She didn’t look back; she couldn’t.
Instead, she clasped the buckle on her helmet, started the motorcycle, and left the neighborhood.
Too many raw emotions for her to sort through on her own.
She had a choice to make.
Go to Hunter or go to Ivy for comfort.
CHAPTERFORTY-ONE
Byte stood outside the door, wondering if she’d chosen the right person to lean on. Would it have been better to go to see the other person? She wasn’t able to ponder her question once the door opened and two strong arms enveloped her.
“You’re here,” Hunter whispered.
“I’m here.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d come or call when you were done.”
“I wasn’t either. It was horrible. I wanted to slap her, but instead, I sat on the porch and listened to everything she had to say.”
“Come on, let’s go into the family room. Want something to drink?”
“You got any Red Bull?”
“Sorry. I don’t. I guess I’ll need to stock some for you.”
“Probably. Anything with caffeine and cold.”
“Not a coffee drinker?”
“Nope. Although, I’ve never tried it cold. It just doesn’t sound good. Why would people complain when their coffee cooled down, and then later order a cold coffee at Starbucks? I just don’t get people sometimes.”
“Just sometimes?”
“Yeah, you’re right. I just plain don’t get people.”
“I think I have some soda from when Kyle was here. Hang on.”
Byte sat on the large sectional and again thought his place felt homey. The colors were neutral, with shades of blue and gray in several rooms. Of course, she hadn’t taken the grand tour, but she wouldn’t be surprised if his bedroom was navy or gray. It just seemed to fit the decor.
“Here you go. Do you want to talk?”
“What’s my other option?”
“Make out?”
