Page 15

Blade

The sky outside is the soft dusky pink of twilight as we ride to my mom’s house in Angelino Heights.

I took the van when I went to pick her up at the hotel, since it has all her bags in it, so no sunset ride for us today.

And not much actual driving either, since the highway is as congested as always at this time in the evenings.

“If you brought your bike, we could be whizzing right past all these standing cars,” Bella muses, looking out her window.

Her skin is aglow with the purplish, dying sunlight, even her eyes a deep violet. It’s my favorite light to look at her by… well, it’s definitely in the top five.

“And next time we will,” I tell her.

She looks at me and grins. “So you will come visit me often. And take me out.”

“I’ll take you out all the time,” I promise her and grin suggestively. “Unless we’d rather stay in.”

“Ugh, doing it at your mom’s house? That’s so cringe,” she says, giggling.

I laugh too. “Hey, anywhere I can get it is just fine.”

She scoots closer and rests her head on my shoulder. “Yeah, anywhere sounds just perfect.”

“Plus, you won’t technically be in the house.”

“I know, I know, the garage,” she says. “Still not sure if that’s the best plan though.”

“It’s the safest place for you.”

She sighs and raises her head, gazing into my eyes. “Do you really think anyone from my old life gives a shit that I’m back? Because I don’t. I think Rogue is just being overly paranoid. Or he’s just trying to chase me away.”

One of these days, we’re all gonna have to have a heart-to-heart about the past and Bella’s role in it.

Rogue especially. If he took back Zane, there’s no reason he should continue holding his grudge against Bella.

She made mistakes. But she was an addict.

And she didn’t mean to hurt anyone, least of all Angel.

Or me. She was trying to save me when she was taken by Ghost… but I can’t think about that.

If I hadn’t let myself get beaten up by her family… if I hadn’t been the pussy that let them take her that night, everything would be different. Everything. I try not to think too much about that either. Staring into her big, sad, vulnerable violet eyes right now, that’s very hard to do.

“The traffic’s starting to move,” she says, averting her eyes and breaking the paralyzing spell of all the things that went wrong and can never be put right.

I drive on, only to come to a standstill a few yards further down the road. That’s how dealing with the past has been… I’ve tried everything, from reading too many books, to meditation, to drink and medication… none of it helped. Hopefully having her back will. I think it’s already starting to.

“I’m sure Rogue’s intel is solid,” I tell her. “It usually is.”

I hope it’s not though. I hope she is in absolutely no danger and that we can finally have the life we always wanted. Together.

“I’ll just call my brother,” she says. “See what’s what.”

“You can’t do that,” I say, but then have no idea how to back it up. Especially after she fixes me with the fiercest look I’ve ever seen in her eyes. And I’ve seen plenty of them.

“He’s my family,” she says. “Don’t tell me I can’t speak to my family. And I want to visit my father’s and Ricardo’s graves. They might not have been the greatest, but they were my family. My blood.”

The traffic finally starts moving for real and I don’t remember the last time I was so relieved about anything. Other than after finding out she still loved me, that is.

“I meant don’t call him yet,” I tell her. “Let’s find out if Dante Moretti really is still looking for you first.”

She scoffs. “He could’ve found me anytime in New York. Thinking he’s still after me is just a fairytale. I’m dead to everyone here. And totally spoiled as a bride.”

“Not to me,” I say quietly, even though I know it’s not nearly enough to make her feel better.

She leans her head on my shoulder again though. “I know. I’m sorry I got worked up. Talking about my family always does that. You were always more than enough for me.”

We don’t speak, just share a silence that’s pleasant and homey despite being filled with so many things that can never be put right. But maybe they can be survived.

My mom’s fancy neighborhood sparkles with all the lit-up mansions lining it.

The cops picked me up no less than four times on my way home here, thinking I’d come to steal or worse.

Being a dark-skinned black kid in a rich neighborhood and all.

My rich and famous white mom took the complaint all the way to the Chief of Police, the second time it happened.

The guy ended up apologizing to me personally.

But it was too late. I’d already learned that this would never be my real home by then.

I park the van by the garage, looking up at the stained-glass windows of the apartment above it.

My mom had them put in to match the main house, had the same guy hand paint them as the originals, but it was all for nothing…

I never spent more than a night or two in that apartment, always preferred to stay at whatever place we were calling our clubhouse at the time.

Mom’s standing at the top of the stairs that lead up to the apartment, holding a spray bottle in one hand, a cloth in the other, her eyes fixed on mine.

Bella sees her too, gives me a look that plainly says, you could’ve told me we’d be meeting your mom tonight , then opens her door and steps out.

“Good evening, Mrs. Steele,” she says, looking up at Mom. “It’s very gracious of you to let me stay here.”

Whatever else Bella might be, she’s also someone who knows exactly what to say and when. Probably her upbringing as a Mafia princess. Or just the fact that she’s always been meant to be a queen.

“You’re always welcome here, Isabella,” Mom says as she descends the stairs. “As long as your intentions are good. And I am always willing to help.”

There’s no animosity in their words, my mom is smiling widely as she pulls Bella into a hug that is returned.

It’s just two queens sizing each other up.

Between them I always wondered how I managed to get a word, or a thought, in edgewise.

I’m probably not going to now, so I leave them to it and start lugging Bella’s suitcases up the stairs.

“I thought we could have supper together, get reacquainted and so on,” Mom says when I come back down for the last time. “Nothing fancy. I just made some sandwiches.”

“Sure,” Bella says. “I’m starving and you always made the best sandwiches.

They spoke while I was toiling with the suitcases, but I only heard their voices not their words. I didn’t want to hear what they were talking about. I already got an earful of Mom’s warnings this morning when I asked her if Bella could stay here for a while.

“Great. I don’t get the chance to make them as often as I used to,” Mom says. “Come.”

We follow her to the main house, past the flower garden that she spends a lot of her time in now, and up the stone steps to the wrap around dark wood porch.

“Should you be leaving your door unlocked if you’re in the garden, Mom?” I ask when it turns out that’s what she did.

She looks at me over her shoulder. “You’re always telling me I’m well protected here and I believe you.”

Mom had been a world-renowned psychologist in her time… she still gets consulted from time to time, and I never could read exactly what she was thinking. It’s never anything bad, I don’t think.

She’s always given me all the love a mother should, ever since she and dad adopted me.

And more. But I’m now also sure she didn’t like me telling her this morning that she’s under surveillance 24/7 because of the work I do.

She also didn’t like being kept in the dark about it all these years.

I’m sure more words are coming my way about that, just hopefully not tonight over sandwiches.

And going by the look Bella is giving me as we follow my mom down the dark foyer to the kitchen, I’m sure I’m getting words from her too once we’re alone.

I shrug, meaning this dinner invitation is a surprise to me too, but I doubt that’s gonna be enough to placate her. Not that I mind. I’m just happy that these two are starting to get along again. Or are at least willing to try.