Page 59 of Fractured

“Care if I join you?”Ambrose asked as he sat down on the steps to my front porch. There were only two, and his legs were so long, he looked a bit odd trying to make himself comfortable.

“You know there’s a chair right there?” I pointed behind me.

“Yes, but that’s not where you are. What are you doing out here anyway?”

His blueish gray eyes were so startling clear today, I felt like I could see inside his soul. Could he see inside mine, and if he could, what would he see?

I broke our locked gazes and glanced to the sky. Kenzo had been gone for about an hour, and the afternoon storm was rolling in. If the weather kept on this spiraling track, we’d have some tropical storms and maybe a hurricane or two before the season ended.

“There’s static in the air. A storm’s coming. Can’t you feel it?” I asked. The clouds were darkening by the minute, and soon, the rain would break. If Ambrose went back inside, I might step out into it, let it wash away my fears.

“I can. I’ve always been mesmerized by storms. You know, it was once thought that the weather was an extension of how God or Mother Earth felt. Like when it rains on sad days, it’s the angels weeping with you?”

“It is very romantic, but I don’t believe that.”

“No? You don’t count yourself a romantic?” Ambrose lay back on the porch and twisted his head to see me while gripping my ankle in a loose hold.

“No, don’t you know? I’m more of a tragedy.” I smiled. At some point, they would get tired of my pessimism. Hell, I was overdone with my pessimism, but I couldn’t help feeling like I was constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Your story isn’t over yet. And anyhow, tragedies are part of my Greek culture. If anyone should know, it’s me. And they’re largely based on myths. What myth are you based on then, if you’re so certain you’re a tragedy?” He always had a comeback. Most times, it entertained me or provoked some kind of deep reflection. But I didn’t like this one.

“How about demonic possession? That was an ancient myth on mental illness, was it not? And I am the mother of all demons after all,” I said sardonically.

He scoffed and sat up. “That’s enough of that.”

Ambrose was steady, the rock for all of us. I’d never seen him angry before, but right now, fire sparked from his eyes as they darkened to the most tempestuous gray.

I blinked at him.

Then he cupped my face in his large hands and sighed, losing some of his sudden fury.

“You have got to stop. You are not what you think your mother is. Just because your mother is mentally ill doesn’t mean you are or will be. Yes, she named you after the mother of all demons, but that means nothing. It was just an ill woman’s delusions, not a prophecy for the future.”

“I—I don’t know what to say.” The way he glared down at me, with disappointment heavy in his gaze, I was cold from the shame of my words. Most people describe shame as burning heat, but all I felt was cold to the bone.

“Say you matter. Say you’re normal. Say you’ll be good to yourself.” He gave me a small shake to drive home his conviction.

“How about I say, I’m a work in progress?” It was a risky compromise with Ambrose, and I wasn’t sure if he would let it go or not. But he simply nodded and slowly lay back down.

“I can accept that. For now.” His gruff voice rasped over my skin, bringing some of the warmth back to the surface. “You never said what you were doing out here?”

What was I doing out here?

Flipping through some old sheet music, even though I was too scared to play my cello. I had this strange feeling like the world would fall apart at my feet if I picked up my bow. Or that my heart would break all over again once I heard the first note. Enough days had passed that I didn’t want to jeopardize the progress I’d made.

“Just passing the time.”

“Then I’m glad I came out.” He reclaimed my ankle, and his touch settled something deep inside me. I almost felt as if I could pick up the bow if he kept touching me…

No, I wasn’t ready for that yet.

“What do you do when you’re not with me? Are you the same person? You’re just too perfect here, and I can’t believe you’re like this all the time.” I leaned back against the chair closest to me and watched the street. An old yellow car drove by, and the passenger waved when we made eye contact.

Ambrose laughed and patted his stomach. “I assure you, Lilith, I’m not perfect at all. I’m a very flawed man, but that I’m perfect for you means the world to me. I’ve never had that before.”

I snorted. “I don’t believe that for a second. You probably have a string of sexy, confident lovers who know exactly who they are and what they want out of life. I can pretend that’s not true. What I really want to know about are the flaws you mentioned.”

He tipped his head back, and his dark loose curls were too tempting. I combed my fingers through the soft, silky strands as he hummed in soft satisfaction.

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