Page 23 of Iris
It’s the moments like this I wish I could keep with me forever.
When I get home, the happiness evaporates.
Violet and Pen aren’t with us. It’s just Heath who wants to speak to me again. Alone.
I take a step toward Dad’s—I mean, Heath’s—office and stop.
Something isn’t right, even though no one else seems to notice.
Mari’s walking down the hallway, and I catch her eyes. She gestures with her chin to the drawing room. Voices drift from there—Heath’s and someone else’s.
“Visitors?” Rue appears out of the kitchen and starts to rush that way, but Mari grabs her and pushes her up the stairs. Rue whines, “But I wanna see.”
“Too bad,” Mari says. “Chore time.”
As I creep closer to the doorway, I hear something about servants being said. A door slams, and I hover, unsure if I should follow my sisters up or go in.
But I push out my displeasure in a heavy sigh, then walk inside.
My brother stops mid-sentence, giving me a fierce warning wrapped in a smile. I skim over to him to the man on the sofa. Seeing me, he rises up to his feet.
Sandy blond. Handsome, if you like his sort of thing, which I don’t.
The stranger clears his throat. “So pleased to?—”
“Who’s the simpering fool, Heath?”
My brother looks ready to commit murder. “Manners, Iris. Remember, some people don’t get our sense of humor.”
I turn from Heath to the man. He holds out his hand for me to shake, but I only cross my arms.
“And you are?” I demand.
“Mason.”
“Go home, Mason. I’m not interested. Not now, not ever.”
With that, I turn and stomp to the door. Heath’s voice stops me. “Iris.”
I whirl around. “I don’t want to…whatever it is you want me to do with him.”
“I’m sorry my sister is being so offensive,” Heath says, giving me a death stare.
Mason looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and that makes two of us, really. “I’m not offended.”
“Pussy.”
“Iris,” Heath thunders. “Go to your room. Now.”
I open my mouth and then shake my head. “Fine. But only because I’m done with this performative bullshit.”
I know the curse is just the icing on the cake, and I’ll likely be reamed out for it later, but whatever. It’s not a lie.
I shove through the door and run up the stairs. I hate Heath, I hate what I am, and I hate the world I’ve been born into. None of this is Mason’s fault. He’s just out doing what he’s told to, but I don’t have to like it.
What I want, more than anything, is freedom from this stupid society, freedom to make my own future and to be my own person.
Why is that too much to ask?
