Page 37 of We Are the Stars

6

Carsen

“You brought me to a cemetery.”

Stuffing my hands in my pockets, I rock back on my heels. “Yep.”

“Huh.”

That’s all she says, and I like that it’s all she says. I also like that she’s giving me a chance to change her first impression of me.

Sure, I’m a surly asshole now, but I haven’t always been this way. That all came about when my father murdered my mother two years ago.

That kind of shit can change a man.

I glance over at Elliott, mesmerized by the way the last rays of twilight play against her light blonde locks. She looks up at the night sky, her lips parted in a soft sigh. Her presence is the direct opposite of mine: she’s airy and bright, I’m dark and coiled with unreleased fury that lurks beneath my surface.

She sees it—hell, she was on the receiving end of it yesterday—yet she’s still here, standing next to me. Three days ago, I didn’t even know who she was.

Well, that’s technically not true.

I knewofher. Elliott Mathers. Daughter of Nigel Mathers, former best friend of Faith Wheatley, my mother. The way my mother used to talk about him when I was a kid was heartbreaking. She loved him, and it was in more than a friendship sort of way, but it was never their time. Instead, my mother married a monster that coldly took her life in a fit of anger, irrevocably changing my own.

The moment I saw Elliott up close in Vern’s, I knew she was his daughter. I’ve seen enough pictures of Nigel to know those eyes anywhere. They’re an identical match to his. And, from what my mom said of Nigel, she has his spirit too.

I’ve always liked his spirit.

“Want to sit?”

“Is that what this blanket you’re making me carry is for?”

“Yes.” I take it from her and spread it out over the ground on my right. “Here is good.”

“We’re…sitting here?”

I pat the ground next to me. “Come on. The dead don’t bite.”

She slowly sits next to me, scooting closer than I think she realizes. Her eyes dart around the grounds, scanning over the names etched on the headstones. When she finally turns to face the one we’re sitting in front of, she lets out a hesitant breath.

“This is…”

“Yep. Faith Wheatley, meet Elliott Mathers.” I lean in and faux-whisper, “Ma, she kneed me in the nuts.” Elliott pinches my arm. “Fine. I deserved it, Ma, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

“It was supposed to hurt, you ass.”

“Don’t curse in front of my mother. She hates that shit.”

She laughs, and for the first time in two years, I feel a spark of something other than hatred zing through me. It’s fast and vanishes nearly as soon it appeared, but for one whole second, I felt happy.

Because of Elliott.

“So, do you come here often?”

“You talking to me or Faith?”

“Oh my god. That’s a terrible joke, Carsen!”

I lift a shoulder. “Ma would have loved it.”

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