Page 131 of Touch the Sky

I’m not sure my stomach can handle caffeine today, and she looks way too cozy to get up anyway, so I shake my head.

“Oh, that’s fine,” I tell her. “Thank you, though.”

She blows on her tea and takes a slow sip before fixing me in a thoughtful stare.

She doesn’t have Jacinthe’s eyes. Hers are a deep sea green, but their features are similar enough that I can only hold her gaze for a few seconds before I have to look away.

I keep seeing Jacinthe’s face from last night, a few tears still gleaming in her eyes as she knelt down in front of Shel and promised her she belongs here.

I want to stay mad at her for making a promise she can’t keep, but guilt and indecision have spent the whole night dousing my anger.

Maybe she really meant it.

Maybe I’m the one who can’t promise to stay.

“Are you all right,ma belle?”

I lace my hands together in my lap and consider lying, but all I can do is huff a bitter laugh.

“I could say yes, but would you believe me?”

The corner of Gabrielle’s mouth lifts. “Pas du tout.”

My stomach flips. That’s exactly what Jacinthe would say too.

“How is Shel?” she asks.

I latch onto the subject change like it’s a lifeline.

“Snoring like an old man,” I answer. “At least someone around here is getting some sleep.”

Gabrielle’s posture loosens, and she lets out a relieved sigh.

“She was not hurt at all last night, I hope?”

“No, just shook up and scared.”

Gabrielle tilts her head, hesitating for a moment before she asks, “Jacinthe said you and Shel had an argument?”

A rush of gratitude floods my chest. I hadn’t even thought about a cover story until now, but Jacinthe must have handled everything.

“Um, yeah. Something like that,” I answer. “Then she bolted. She’s never done that before.”

I can’t hide the guilt in my voice. I was so careless. I should have realized Shel could get home early last night. I should have put a stop to things with Jacinthe before we took it that far.

“Jacinthe used to hide in the hayloft.”

Gabrielle’s tone takes on a faraway note as she stares at the lengthening orange streaks in the sky.

“When her father would go away, back before he went away for good,” she adds. “I should have known to check there too.”

“It’s not your fault,” I assure her.

She takes another sip of her tea.

“I’m, um, sorry,” I blurt. “About her father. It sounds like it was a really tough time.”

She shrugs and sighs again before giving me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.