Page 105 of Ruling Scar
But I can’t.
“What are you doing?” Elijah asks when I sit up.
As much as I love Elijah’s, a sudden swell of homesickness hits me. It’s a thirty-minute train ride away, but I need my house. I need to eat snacks prepared by my mom, do some laundry, and check in on Dad.
“I’m going to go home.” I scoot to the edge of the bed and search for my socks. “I think this afternoon turned into a much more serious day than it meant to.”
“Home?” Elijah asks.
Adeline’s conversation weighs heavily on me.
I pause my dressing and stand there for a second, fidgeting with a sock. “I need to go home and talk to my mom.”
“I should go with you.”
“No,” I snort. Best to tackle it by myself first. Especially considering Elijah’s not welcome in my house in the first place. I hop as I put on my remaining sock and then smack a kiss on his forehead.
He tries to grab my waist but I dodge. “Text me when you get home safe,” he requests.
I shoot him a cheeky grin, hoping the false confidence will linger. “As if Ivan doesn’t keep you updated on my whereabouts?”
“He’s lucky I didn’t fire him after he let you run off to a sex club with your friends.”
“Please,” I call over my shoulder. “You and I both know you love Ivan too much to ever let him leave.”
CHAPTER 24
Lennie
Iget an entire train ride to imagine what I’m going to say. Most of the speeches in my head sound great. Half I’ll probably never have the courage to say and the rest fall somewhere between the lines of ‘I’m twenty-six and dating who I wish’ and ‘Please for the love of God don’t kill my boyfriend’.
Home is warmer than I expected it to be. Mom’s style is traditional but it’s just as peaceful as Elijah’s open and airy space. The rugs and dark hardwood floor give the place a warmth and the lights are a soft yellow. Spices fill the air and I shake off my shoes in the mudroom and pad along until I’m in Mom’s favorite spot—the kitchen.
She’s chopping vegetables with a vengeance. Dark, caramel-highlighted hair shakes as she moves rapidly. Gold bracelets jingle on her wrist and she’s wearing a pretty blue sweater. Believe it or not, she and Elijah share a similarity—an aversion to sweatpants.
Mom glances up, doing a double-take at the sight of me. She lifts the chopping board, vegetables plopping into a pot on the stove. “My darling daughter. You grace us with your presence.”
“Mom.” I stop from rolling my eyes. If she had her way, all three daughters would live with her.
“I never see you these days,” she chides, grabbing more carrots. “Even Nat thinks you’re too busy. Can we expect to see you at the baby shower?”
Passive aggressive much.
“The one Ads and I are helping you plan.” I step further into her domain with its warm brown backsplash and smell of garlic bread. “Yes, of course, I’m going to be there.”
Nat won’t tell us if the baby is a boy or a girl and it’s driving Mom mad.
Her knife whacks into the carrots. “Lennie. . . I want to talk to you about something.”
I gear up for my speech. “Actually, Mom I was hoping?—”
“I want you to invite this Leopold to dinner.”
Everything I want to say mysteriously disappears. My head for one full second is nothing but a record scratch.
Mom peeks up, her hands still rapidly cutting veggies. Her face is serious, her mouth firm.
“Mom.” I struggle with the word.
