Page 2 of Burning Embers

That’s one word that has never been associated with me. I’ve had places I slept in, places I lived in, and places I survived in. None of them could be considered a “home,” and I doubt this will be any different.

I nibble on my lower lip as the front door opens, and a tall, broad-shouldered man steps out. He’s handsome for an older guy, with dark hair peppered religiously with gray streaks. A few wrinkles bracket his eyes, but I have the distinct impression they’re not from old age. When he smiles, unveiling sparkling white teeth, those creases deepen even further.

“Hale!” A smile I’ve never seen before on Amanda’s face—at least not directed at me—makes an unexpected appearance as she strides forward with her hand extended. “Where’s Gerry?”

“He’s away for a few days doing some business,” Hale explains, though he doesn’t take his gaze off of me, even ashe shakes her hand. His eyes ignite with an excited gleam that immediately sets me on edge.

Because that gleam? It’s not a malicious or cruel one.

And I don’t know what to do with people who are genuinely nice.

In my world, they don’t survive long.

I resist the urge to palm the blade I always keep hidden up my sleeve.

The longer Hale stares at me, the more unnerved I feel. Ice fuses my joints together until I’m unable to move a muscle, even if I wanted to.

“You must be Isabella.” Another wide, beguiling smile unfurls on his face as he takes a few steps away from Amanda to stand in front of me.

He doesn’t move to hug or even touch me, something I appreciate immensely. I don’t allow my gratitude to show on my face as I give him a slow once-over, searching for any indication he’s not what he seems.

When he allows my perusal of him, not flinching or even seeming offended, I shift my duffel bag to my opposite shoulder and say, “Izzy.”

“Excuse me?”

“Most people call me Izzy.” I shuffle from foot to foot as I wait for him to respond.

His beatific smile broadens. “Izzy.”

He says the name reverently, and a pang of self-consciousness reverberates through me. I love my name—it’s one I chose for myself—but I can’t help but think it’s almost childish. Isabella is a woman. Izzy is a scared child, a street rat, an orphan. And Bella? She's just an idiotic girl obsessed with a sparkly, virgin vampire who watches her sleep.

We continue to stare at each other for what feels like an obscenely long amount of time.

Finally, Hale clears his throat and nods towards the car. “Can I get your other luggage?”

“I don’t have any other luggage.” I once again shift my weight, suddenly unable to meet his penetrating stare.

The ground… The ground is definitely more alluring. Ohhh. What a pretty pebble. It’s all…gray and boring and pebbly.

“What do you mean?” There’s a tightness in Hale’s voice that has me jerking my head up. His lips are compressed in a grim line, and his eyes are flinty. It’s so unlike his kind demeanor from only a few minutes earlier that I resist the urge to gape like a lunatic.

Oh fuck.

Is he pissed that he may have to buy me new supplies? I should tell him that he needn’t bother. I’ve made do with what I possess for the last ten years. I don’t need any handouts.

The state may provide these foster houses with a generous sum of cash each month to take care of their charges, but I’m not an idiot. I know the system can, and will, be abused.

I’ve experienced the world’s wickedness firsthand.

“It’s fine,” I rush to say, desperately trying to quell the anger brewing in his eyes, wanting him to direct it anywhere but at me. “You don’t need to?—”

“As soon as you’re settled in, we can head to the mall,” Hale interrupts, his tone succinct and firm.

The hardness in his eyes tells me that arguing will be futile. He turns the force of his glare onto Amanda, and I find myself breathing easier now that I’m no longer suffocating under the weight of his stare.

“How can these types of things happen? Why isn’t the system protecting these kids better?” Anger infuses every word—anger…on my behalf.

An odd, fluttering sensation unfurls in my chest.

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