Page 47 of Conflicted Fate
“I love her.”
It was all he said. For him, it was enough.
“Me, too,” I said softly as my mom came into the main room, hanging back to give me space.
I slipped away from my dad and walked over to her. There were a lot of words I could say. Things that probably stillneededto be said, to be worked out.
But knowing what was coming, the dangers of the path I walked, meant those things could wait. At the moment, what was important was family and loved ones. My anger would fade in time. Eventually, so would she. When that time came, I knew I would hate myself forever if I didn’t try to move past it.
So, I put my arms out and gave my mom a hug. Both of us were crying. It was ugly. My dad stood nearby, twiddling his thumbs and trying not to make a very “Dad” remark.
It was perfect.
Eventually, my mom pulled back, though she kept her grip on my shoulders. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and my shirt was definitely damp in places. So was hers, for that matter.
“You’re leaving again,” she said.
“Yes,” I told her. “Tonight. We … Well, it’s the next stage of our plan.”
Biting her lip, she nodded and glanced past me at my dad.
“It’s dangerous, isn’t it?” he asked.
“Nothing is safe these days,” I answered. “But doing nothing would be the most dangerous of all. If we do that, they win.”
My mom chewed on her lip, then nodded, pulling me back into a hug.
“Be safe, my Jada,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Mom. I always will.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Stop pouting.”
I glared at Clint. “I’m not pouting. I’m pacing. There’s a huge difference. Pouting would mean I’m upset and mad for no good reason. Pacing is a thing I do to burn off nervous energy.”
Clint mimed falling asleep. “Thank you, teacher.”
I slugged him in the arm. Hard. He pulled away with a sour look.
“Now who’s pouting?” I said, lifting a finger in his direction.
“Children,” Andi muttered from a nearby log, which served as a backrest to her seated position. “I’m fighting a war with children.”
Clive and I looked at each other, then as one, we plopped ourselves in front of her cross-legged, putting on our most eager expressions.
“Please, old and wizened one,” I pleaded innocently, “tell us the stories of the old days. Oh, you of advanced age and serious senility, please, enlighten us to the journeys we will face as we slowly but surely descend into the crippling pain of turningtwenty-five.”
Andi’s glare had been fixed on me the entire time, but at the very end, it shot to my left as Clint snickered. There was a very audiblegulpas he sat up straight at her look, his laughter dying.
Which, of course, set me off, clamping both hands over my face as I giggled at the byplay. Although the two hadn’t said a single word—or even hinted at it—the change between them was obvious. I wasn’t sure if it was a physical arrangement of convenience or something more. But until they brought it out into the open, I’d sworn to myself I wouldn’t bring it up.
But watching the “oh, shit” look cross his face was more than I could take. I’d never seen Clive succumb to a woman before. Knowing Andi, however, I suspected I would enjoy it.
We weren’t the only ones blowing off steam as we waited, either. Little groups of men and women had clustered together. Our voices were pitched low, although there was no real danger of being detected. We were over five miles north of the battle line, tucked deep into the forest in a small ravine. All of which meant any sound would be hard-pressed to carry far.
But there was still risk, so we talked in whispers.
