Page 90 of Turn

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“Did Brecken go to bed already?” my mother asked when she found me sitting in the living room alone.

“Yeah.”

She motioned that she wanted to sit down so I shifted over on the couch.

“I like the new reading glasses,” I said.

My mother made a face and took off her glasses, peering at them critically. “All that staring at a computer screen all these years has taken a toll on my eyes.”

I glanced at the closed bedroom door where Brecken was sleeping and kept my voice low. “Thanks for not asking too many questions when I brought him home tonight.”

She nodded. “I understand. Your Uncle Deck called your dad earlier to say he and Curtis needed to take a trip down to Emblem.”

I sighed and picked at a piece of lint on my pajama shorts. “Yes. They went down there because they had a lead on Tristan’s whereabouts.”

My mother said nothing. When I looked up I found her staring at me intently.

“Don’t look at me like that, Mom. I know I shocked you today with all this hideous Parker business but I’ll be fine. I won’t go hiding from the world again. You guys don’t need to worry about me.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she said softly. She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “Parents never stop worrying about their babies, no matter how old they get. It’s the job that never ends.”

I swallowed. “I’m really sorry for what I’ve put you through. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what happened right away. Curtis tried to talk me into telling you. He was right.”

My mother’s lips twitched and I could tell she was fighting a smile. “You seem to be getting very close with Curtis. I see the way you look at him, Cassie. And I’ve noticed the way he looks at you.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re as bad as Cami.”

“Cami’s good at figuring things out.”

“In any case you can both stop fishing for details. Curtis and I are not nearly as close as you’re implying.”

My mother cocked her head and surveyed me. “Is something wrong with your lips, honey? You keep touching them.”

I dropped my hand. Leave it to my mother to notice I kept discreetly running my fingers over my lips because I couldn’t stop thinking about that mind-blowing kiss in the middle of Curtis’s kitchen. He’d caught me by surprise even though I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted to do everything with him. And I could feel how hard he was when he pressed against me. I knew how badly he wanted it too.

There was no more doubt in my mind. Curtis and I couldn’t pretend to be just friends. I think we were always meant to be something else.

“I really hope he’s okay,” I said. “I got the feeling his brother was in some trouble. When Curtis told me he was going down to Emblem I was afraid for him.”

“Your Uncle Deck is with him,” my mother reminded me. “That’s even better than having a king on your side.”

“You’re right,” I said, although I wouldn’t be able to really relax until I knew Curtis was home safe.

My mother stretched. “Well, I’d better get back to my office and try to get some work done. Romance novels don’t write themselves.” She patted my knee before rising from the couch. “Your dad is in the garage working out his rage on his new wood carving hobby. He’d probably appreciate a glass of ice water.”

She had a knack for subtlety. Instead of saying, “Please go talk to your father,” she made it sound a lot less dramatic.

In the kitchen I filled a glass with water and ice before opening the door leading to the garage.

Cordero Gentry was standing beside his corner workbench and frowning down at a block of wood. The garage door was open to allow a slight breeze to filter through but it was still pretty hot out there and I could see he was sweating.

“How’s the art coming along?” I asked, handing over the glass.

He accepted the water and shrugged. “I got this idea in my head to carve a falcon because I keep seeing one perched on top of a light pole close to Scratch.” He swallowed the contents of the glass in a few seconds and set it down. “The execution is proving tougher than I thought. Carving is far different than sketching or inking. The truth is, I’m not sure I know what the hell I’m doing.”

“Who does?” I muttered, taking a seat on a nearby hydraulic work stool.

---