Crimson (The Silver Series Book 3) (16 page)

“
It does matter, Mom,” I
replied gently, taking her hand in both of mine. “I need you to
know what happened.” I swallowed, then said, “I don’t know what
happened to my body after I died, and I know I died,” I said,
answering the question Dad opened his mouth to ask. He closed it
again and nodded, waiting for me to continue. I let out a breath
slowly. “All I know is I awoke in a lab strapped to a table with a
scientist performing experiments on me.”

Mom’s hand tightened in mine, but I
continued, “I broke free and helped a girl escape who had lost her
eyesight at the labs. She told me later that they had turned me
into a werewolf.”

“
A werewolf?”

I had anticipated the surprise in Dad’s
voice, and the doubt, but the brush of fear that touched Mom’s eyes
gripped my heart in a tight fist. I pushed on. “I’ve found others
like me, and they’ve helped me learn how to control the wolf side.
I can handle it, but the scientists want me back.”

This time it was Mom who spoke. “Were the
others created at the labs, too?”

I shook my head. “They were born
werewolves.”

She let out a small breath, her joy of
having me home warring with the realization that there were other
monsters out there like me. Dad took her other hand and squeezed it
gently. “Kaynan’s home, sweetheart. The rest will work itself
out.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then
opened them again and smiled. She put both of her hands on my
cheeks. “We love you no matter what, Kay. Dad’s right. Everything
will work out.”

“
Colleen should be alive,
not me,” I forced past the knot in my throat.

Dad shook his head. “Kaynan, you're here. By
whatever grace or miracle you've been given, you have a second
chance. We lost both of you. Never regret for a minute that you're
back, because we won't.” He took a small breath. “You're here, and
you are our son no matter what they did to you.”

Mom's gaze became critical. “Werewolves need
to eat, don't they? You're skinny as a twig.” She pulled me to the
table and forced me to sit down. I almost laughed aloud at the
sudden strength and determination that returned to her as though it
had never been absent.

While she pulled food from the refrigerator,
I looked around the kitchen. It was the same as before the
accident, warm, cheery, lit with the soft yellow lights Mom loved
and the brown hues of the cupboards Dad had put in a few years
back. Sitting at the table felt like such a reality check I could
barely remember I had ever been gone.

“
I hope you have a hearty
appetite,” Mom stated, coming back from the kitchen. She slid a
plate loaded with roast and potatoes onto the table in front of
me.

I looked to Dad for help, but he merely
shrugged with a smile, his eyes still on me as though he could
barely believe that I was sitting at the table again. “When it
comes to food, there's no arguing with your mother. You know
that.”

I fought back a smile and took a bite. The
taste of my mother's seasonings and gravy made me feel more real
than anything that had happened so far. “There'll be seconds where
that came from,” Mom stated. She sat down next to me with a second
bowl, ready to swap it for the first. Her hand stole across the
table while I ate to touch my arm. She lifted her gaze to Dad's and
they both smiled with shining eyes.

Chapter 16

When I finished both bowls and a helping of
Mom's homemade potato salad, I was finally able to convince her
that I wasn't starving anymore. I sat on the ottoman and had them
sit on the love seat. They held hands, their fingers intertwined,
and both watched me as though willing to hear what I had to say as
long as I stayed there forever. I told them the details of what had
happened, and appreciated the way they simply nodded at the hard
parts. Their eyes held mine and reminded me what I always treasured
about my parents even though I gave them such a hard time. They
loved me, no matter what I went through or what I did, they truly
loved me.

“
I can't stay,” I said when
I finished the story. Their faces fell. A stab went through my
heart in response, but I forced myself to go on. “It's too
dangerous, at least for now. There's a home in Texas-”

“
Texas?” Mom said. “Why
would you want to live in Texas?”

I fought back a smile at the thought of how
the Texans would respond. “They have a safe home there, a place
where I’m staying with the girl that helped me escape.”

“
Oh, a girl,” Dad said,
nudging Mom with a twinkle in his eyes.

At the mention of a girl, an angry look
swept across Mom’s face. “We saw Renee with Dean Parker’s boy; you
know, that computer genius or something or other. I wanted to say
something because it’s only been a few months since the
funeral-“

I cut her off with a shake of my head. “It’s
okay, Mom. I know about Chad, and I really don’t mind.”

She took my hand and looked me fiercely in
the eyes. “You’re sure? You two were so close and for her to
just-“

“
Mom, it’s alright. I saw
them together; they work. I can’t expect her to accept me for who I
am, especially since my future is so uncertain. I’m really okay
with it.”

“
It’s that girl, isn’t it?”
Dad pressed, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. “That
werewolf girl from the lab.”

“
Dad,” I said,
exasperated.

Mom glanced at Dad. “She did sound special.
Is she waiting in Texas for you?”

I shrugged, but my heart turned over at the
thought. “I’m not sure. Jaze and the Hunters are trying to find her
pack, then she’ll probably go home. She’s been through a lot.”

“
You have, too,” Mom said
softly.

I gave her a small smile and she hugged me
again, her arms full of their normal vigor and strength. “It’s so
good to see you, Kay. You have no idea how much we’ve missed
you.”

“
I think I have some idea,”
I said. A tear escaped even though I thought I had cried them all
out. I wiped it away and stood up. “But I do need to go. There are
too many unanswered questions and I need to protect Grace from the
lab until she gets back to her pack.”

Mom stood too. “Stay tonight, please?” She
looked up at me, her soft eyes pleading. “It’d be so nice to know
one of our children is under our roof again.”

I looked at Dad and he nodded. I sighed, but
inwardly I needed to sleep in my own home again as much as they
needed me there. “I’ll stay.”

Mom let out a happy little laugh and hugged
me again, then bustled off to get my room ready. “It hasn’t been
touched since you left, but also, it hasn’t been touched since you
left,” she called over her shoulder by way of explanation.

Dad just laughed. “You know she’s always
happiest when she’s looking after you kids.” Sorrow flashed through
his eyes and he put an arm around my shoulder. “You and Colleen
were close. I know you miss her as much as we do.”

I nodded, but didn’t trust myself to
speak.

“
The funeral was nice,” he
said quietly, walking me toward my room. “Debra’s family moved away
a few days afterward. I couldn’t blame them. Most of the time we
spend in this house I still think you two are at your friends’ or
school; it hurts like the devil whenever I think about what
happened.” He glanced toward the sound of Mom bustling in the next
room. “I think we both pretend a lot of the time.”

I paused by the door to Colleen’s room. I
couldn’t bring myself to open it, but her scent drifted from
underneath, stopping my steps as surely as if I hit a wall. The
scent was old, faded, and the thought brought tears to my eyes with
such force that I was sobbing before I realized it. Dad put his
arms around me and soon my shirt was wet with his tears as well.
Mom found us there and didn’t say anything. Her familiar arms held
me with the strength of love I had missed so much and knew so well.
We held each other long after we had cried out all of our
tears.

Colleen’s scent stayed with me after Mom and
Dad saw me safely tucked into my bed. It helped to know there were
two others who would never forget her. It was still my fault, all
of it, but sharing the sorrow felt like a salve on the burned edges
of my heart.

***

I couldn't sleep. The strangeness of being
in my old room without the luxury of a buzz or a high to dull the
sharp edges of memory brought by the pictures on the walls and the
memorabilia of my youth made the bedroom uncomfortable with
familiarity. I finally gave up trying and went to the back patio
that overlooked the orange trees Dad cultivated with his green
thumb. Just looking at them reminded me of the first cup of orange
juice each year.

Dad used to parade around the house with his
basket of oranges, cut them carefully in half and juice them by
hand, then pour each of us a glass with a solemnity that had us all
laughing by the time he was done. He drank with a flourish, then
invited us to do the same. No orange juice ever tasted as good as
Dad’s fresh squeezed first batch. My mouth watered at the
memory.

The fresh evening air I was used to had
changed. The crisp scent of the citrus trees was deeper as though
every orange left its mark within the tree. The grass carried the
warmth of summer rain, the flavor of rich soil, and the garden hose
smell of the water with which Dad lovingly watered it when the
season grew dry. I could smell the dogs a few houses down, a cat in
the bushes next door, and the sawdust and vegetable scent of a
mouse hiding under the porch.

The slight breeze brought the sounds of
night, crickets chirruping from the rocks at the corner of the
garden, tree branches rubbing against each other, and leaves
rustling as though shaking off the dust of the day and relishing
the relief of night. The sound of grass crushed softly under a
footstep that would have been soundless to human ears sent a chill
down my spine. I turned slowly and my wolf eyesight made out the
shadow of someone hiding near the trees where I had been earlier.
The wind blew against my back, sending the scent of whoever hid
away from me, but there was something to his stance, something
about the way his hands opened and closed that brought relief to my
chest.

“
Jet?” I
whispered.

He let out a quiet breath and took a step
forward so I could see him more clearly. “Jaze wanted to make sure
you were safe.”

He said it as a half-apology, but only
gratitude filled me at Jaze’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you.” I
hesitated. “Do you want to come in?”

He shook his head and I caught a faint smile
on his lips in the moonlight. “I’m more comfortable outside.”

I nodded, then heard a door open in the
house. Jet disappeared from view and I felt another surge of
gratefulness for the werewolves who had made me a part of their
lives. I tracked footsteps down the hall without turning around,
then fought back a smile when the kitchen door slid open and Dad’s
familiar steps came up behind me. “Looking for a night breeze?”

I nodded without turning. “Just remembering
the orange juice.”

“
I’ve got some in the
fridge. It’s not the first batch, but it tastes like sunshine,” he
offered.

I couldn’t help the smile that came to my
face. “I’ll bet it does.”

He left the porch and I relished the sounds
of Mom’s cups, complete with pictures of oranges on the glasses,
filling with Dad’s liquid gold. He hummed a wordless song that
brought back memories of playing at his feet while he worked on
cars in the garage. One particular memory rose to the
forefront.

“
Your Barbies are too big,”
I argued.

“
They can ride on top,”
Colleen said. She set a Barbie on my favorite monster
truck.

I shook my head. “That’s silly. They don’t
fit and no one would ride on top of a truck like that. They’d
die.”

Colleen stuck out her tongue, her dark blond
hair a mess of curls no one could tame. “They wouldn’t die. They’re
plastic.”

“
Good, then they won’t feel
this.” I ran over her favorite one with my truck.

“
Don’t do that, Kay! You’ll
hurt her!” Colleen snatched the Barbie back and hugged it to her
chest.

“
I thought you said they
can’t get hurt, they’re plastic.”

“
I’m telling Dad,” Colleen
said. She raised her voice, “Dad!”

“
Kaynan, stop running over
your sister’s dolls,” Dad said, his voice muffled from the hood of
the car a few feet away.

“
But they don’t fit in my
cars, and she wants them to ride on top. They look
stupid.”

“
They do not.” Colleen’s
eyes filled with tears and she began to sob. “I don’t have a car
that fits. My Barbies are too big.”

My sister's tears always broke me down. I
looked at her dolls for a minute, then an idea came to me. “Be
right back,” I said. I dashed from the garage and returned a few
minutes later with my dump truck. I set it on the floor next to
Colleen, stacked her Barbies in the back, then fit one of my G.I.
Joes in the driver’s seat.

Colleen sniffed and wiped her nose. “What're
you doing?”

“
Taking them to the
drive-in,” I replied with a grin.

Her eyes lit up and she followed me up the
stairs into the living room where we set up the television as a
movie theater.

I went back in with Dad and began to play
with my trucks again.

“
That was nice,” he said
after a few minutes of tinkering. He started to hum the wordless
song he always did when he was happy. I smiled and drove my trucks
across the cement floor.