Page 49 of Amethyst Flame
It rang again. I glanced over. The font that saidMomseemed extra bold and angry.
Well, so was I.No fucking way.
When it rang a third time, I was ready to give her a piece of my mind. “I can’t believe you would let him into our house!”
“Imo—”
“No. Heabandonedus.”
“There is a child at stake here—”
“That child is fine. That child may even be better off without him—didja think of that? Maybe she’s not waiting around for him toseeher. You know, reallyseethat she might be awesome and not some mistake of his?”
“Not everything is about you, Imogen.”
Her cold voice stung, and I was shocked into silence.
“You don’t know everything,” she went on. “It’s time for you to grow up and understand that not everyone is perfect. Not your father. Not me. And when a child hasn’t been home in several days, that’s cause for real concern.”
“She said she’s with her friend. Just like when I ran away.”
“Except I knew where you were the whole time you were gone. You and Swann werenotthat clever about hiding you. The first night Swann’s mother found the sleeping bag. She even stocked the freezer with Hot Pockets.”
Huh. At the time, the Hot Pockets had seemed like a strange, fortuitous discovery.
“But your father doesn’t have any idea where Brianna is. Or how she is. Or what she might do if she feels like she can’t come home.”
I had the sudden, sinking feeling that I might’ve been her last resort. Well, I could still track her.
Knees to the steering wheel, I gave my moths the [search] command. And put my hands back at two and ten while I waited for them to return her location.
“You hate the man,” my mom went on. “Fine. But I’m asking you, for me, to come home and tell him what you know.”
“I don’t want to see him.”
And also, I did. I had wanted to see him every day of my life.
And it suddenly occurred to me that not only could I get my wish, but I didn’t even have to ask for it. Or beg, which at times growing up, I probably would’ve done. In fact,hewas doing the begging.
“Fine. I’m coming.”
Still no return information from my moths. I’d hoped they’d be able to relay data at a distance, at least until they faded. But maybe I’d gotten overconfident. Dammit.
I turned back into my neighborhood. The asshole was still in my parking place, so I parked on the street and walked across the pink landscaping rocks Joe had put in our front yard to where my mom waited on the stoop to our front door.
“I know how hard this is for you, and—”
“Whatever.” I pushed past her and stepped inside.
A tall, thin man, mid-forties, stood up from where he’d been sitting on our sofa. His hair was gray at the temples, steel on top. He had gray-blue eyes, and his brows were drawn into the same slash as Brianna. She was definitely his kid. I couldn’t see myself in him, though.
“Hello, Imogen,” he said gravely. “I’m sorry to meet you under these conditions.”
“I’m sorry to meet you under any conditions.”
He frowned, nodding. “I guess I deserve that.”
I wanted him gone. “Your daughter is fine. I met her today at the mall. I fed her pizza and gave her some cash.”
