Page 109 of Shattered Jewel
“Promise me something,” I state.
He stills without answering.
“Promise me you won’t let them manipulate you into doing something that will break you into pieces that I won’t be able to fit back together.”
He levels his gaze on mine over the SUV’s hood, his irises swirling with honey and earth tones swallowing the sunlight beaming on them.
A beat passes before he speaks again.
“I can’t promise that.” He yanks on the driver’s door. “Because I would do anything for you.”
And his words—those deadly, beautiful words—are a dagger in my chest. I watch him slide back into the driver’s seat and shut the door with an resounding slam before he roars off.
I let my head fall back, willing the sun to dry any tears that try and escape my closed eyes, then turn and trek inside.
The smell hits me almost immediately.
I follow the scent with a wrinkled nose, deftly avoiding all signs of my mother’s evil genius, until I reach the grand, unused living room and spot the figure lounging on the Queen Victorian couch, one leg raised in the air.
I creep in cautiously, stepping over the white sheets she’s cast aside that were acting as dust covers for the furniture. “Sasha?”
“Hello!” Sasha turns her head and grins at me.
“What are you doing? Is your leg okay?”
“My leg is operating as an exclamation point to my hello!”
I blink at her, trying to make sense of her words even as I take in the sight of her languishing with an open bag of gummy worms on her stomach. “You’re stoned.”
“Fuck yes. It’s not like we’re in the best situation right now. Might as well enjoy a good high.”
She waves her leg in a last salute before lowering it.
I can’t stop a genuine laugh from escaping at the sight of her.
“You should try it some time,” she says.
Sasha’s eyes are glazed over and she has this soft smile on her face that almost makes me want to agree with her.
Almost.
“No thanks,” I murmur.
I glance around the room and my gaze falls upon a photo frame settled at one corner of the ornately carved fireplace mantel. The sweet smiles of my innocent youth greet me from behind the glass—me hugging Mom, and Maverick on the other side, all of us smiling too brightly.
Seeing Maverick’s younger self brings that familiar flutter of warmth and the ache of absence in equal measures.
My attention moves to the picture next to it: Mom and Dad’s wedding day.
They looked so happy. Dad, with his wide smile and twinkling eyes, his arm wrapped around Mom’s waist as if he would never let her go. And Mom, radiant in her simple white dress, her cheeks flushed with happiness and awe at who she gets to marry.
The raw emotion captured in that photo slices through me like a knife, and for a moment I let myself sink back into the memory of happier times. I can almost imagine what their laughter would’ve been like that day, weaving through the now haunted halls of our family home.
It’s odd how quick laughter can turn to tears when you realize everything’s a lie.
“Hey,” Sasha calls out softly, jolting me out of my thoughts. Her smile fades as she sits up, replaced by a look of concern. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I lie smoothly.