Page 81 of Wicked Games (Fallen Royals 2)

Lenora glares at me.

“But, you should feel safe and secure in this house,” she continues. “You’re not going anywhere. I wanted to reiterate that.”

Margo sniffs. “Thank you.”

“Now, it’s late. And a school night. Caleb, I think it’s time for you to head out.” Lenora stands, brushing off invisible dust from her thighs.

Adults always do that, like a nervous habit.

I say adults, like Margo and I aren’t on the cusp of adulthood.

“Sure thing, Mrs. Jenkins.” I go to Margo and lift her hand. I ignore Lenora’s burning stare and press my lips to Margo’s knuckles.

Margo sucks in a breath, and it’s the last sound I hold in my mind as I walk back to my car. Even through the pain in my back and the heaviness in my chest. She’s worth it.

18

Margo

Lenora smiles at me, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “You forgive him, don’t you?”

“I don’t know when it happened, but yeah. I think so.”

She grimaces. “He looks at you how I always hoped someone would look at Josie. But he hasn’t always treated you well, has he?”

I shake my head. “Our relationship is complicated. But… I’m done letting him try to walk all over me.”

“Robert and I just want to be a good example for you.”

“You are.” I manage to give her a smile, but my heart is pounding out of my chest.

Caleb only just left—the distinct sound of his engine revving is unmistakable—but loneliness stretches out in front of me. Being dependent on him isn’t what I had in mind when I told him I wasn’t going anywhere.

She touches my cheek. “Okay, I’ll leave you alone. Get some rest.”

She rises and goes to the door, and something makes me stand, too.

“Wait,” I say. “What did the note say? Are you okay?”

“She apologized.” Lenora’s voice is faint. “And she said that the note was hidden in that picture because she was sure we’d try to erase her memory soon after her death—and then we’d get answers. Silly girl.”

“I’m sorry.” I bite my lip. It’s easy to feel like an intruder in a foster home. There are kids who came before me and after me, and each one leaves their mark. In a way, it’s comforting to know that I’m not the only one. That I won’t be the only one.

Here, there’s no echo of past children. There was only one foster child before me, and they aged out. Lenora and Robert never talk about them.

Just another mystery.

“It’s all right, honey,” she says. “Sleep well.”

Except sleep doesn’t come easily. I toss and turn all night, wondering about the marks on Caleb’s back. If someone changed his bandage—Eli, maybe—and if he’s hurting because of it. And when I do sleep, I have insane dreams.

My mom, half erased by time, stands at the foot of my bed. She eyes me with suspicion.

My dad in an orange jumpsuit, frowning at me.

I can’t move from the bed.

Caleb’s dad. He walks up to me and ruffles my hair. Crouches until we’re eye level. “Leave my son alone,” he says, and it echoes.

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