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“Oh, it’s so good to hear your voice. We’ve been so worried! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Mrs. Ringwald.”
Her laughter is tinged with relief. “I told you, call me Doris.”
“Doris…is she there?”
“Of course. Hold on.”
The phone clatters softly, then it’s picked up again.
“Elyse?”
My heart leaps and tears burn. “Petra. How…how’s things?”
“Good. Well, good with a heavy dose of boring,” she amends.
I laugh. And it feels so good. “The farm not keeping you busy?”
“I love the horses. The home-schooling, not so much.” She lowers her voice. “Doris likes to repeat the same lesson over and over, like I’m thick or something.”
I grin at the eye roll in her words, then I sober up.
“Don’t give her a hard time, okay? This is all new to her, too.”
Petra sighs. “I know. I think her and Paul are thinking of swapping. Hopefully he’s better at the teaching thing.” She pauses for a few heartbeats. “Am I going to see you soon?”
My heart lurches. “I won’t lie to you, Petra. I don’t know. For now, it’s best I stay away.”
I’ve met my beautiful baby sister only once. A year ago when Clayton started asking questions, I took steps to track her down and warn her adoptive parents about the threat he posed. Paul and Doris Ringwald took the warning seriously and relocated from Nevada to Idaho. My second warning call two months ago forced them to head north to a farmhouse outside Vancouver. It helps me sleep better at night to know they’re as invested in her safety as I am.
“Are you sure we can come back when I turn eighteen?” Petra presses.
“Yes.” Clayton would no longer have any rights to claim her then. “So please hold on a little longer, okay?”
Another sigh. “Okay.”
“I’ll call when I can. I promise.”
She passes me back to her adoptive parents and I reassure them that everything’s okay before I hang up.
Once my heart resettles, my thoughts return to Quinn.
What exactly does leave your mood to me, mean? And where is he taking me this time?
I take a long scented bath, puzzle over the questions a little more, then abandon them. Quinn is electrifyingly cryptic. And autocratically hard-headed.
Almost as much as—
The sponge I’m running over my arm pauses. I frown.
Am I in danger of blurring the lines by comparing the two men in my life? They aren’t that alike. Both are seriously alpha, sure. But Q doesn’t ask. He takes. Whereas Quinn asks persistently until he gets what he wants.
My frown clears for a minute, then returns.
But they both set me on fire, and I fear more exposure will only make things worse. Except I’m not in a hurry to walk away from either.
I try to shut my thoughts off as I zip up my sleeveless black jumpsuit and strappy heels. On a self-comforting whim, I dig into my backpack and bring out a small jewelry box. Inside nestles a delicate silver chain with a heart locket given to Ma by her father for her sweet sixteenth. It’s the only thing I kept from Ma’s belongings beside the picture and I intend to give it to Petra. But I can’t resist wearing it now, to feel closer to the mother I lost and the sister I’ve turned my life inside out to protect.