Page 49 of Harbinger

“I don’t want to go, mom.”

“He’s a good man! Has lots of connections. His father is very wealthy.”

That doesn’t mean anything to me.

“You know, one day you’re going to regret all of this attitude,” my mother tells me, brushing her beautiful red hair. “Someday, you’re going to wish that you had listened to us. Do you hear me?”

I roll my eyes.

I don’t want a husband anytime soon. If it were up to my parents, I would be married the very second I turned sixteen. A child bride. I would be wedded off to an older man. Someone who would most definitely creep me out.

He would be polite at first. Nice even. But over the years, he would turn wicked.

I’ve seen it happen to my own parents, and even then, they were well into that process by the time I was able to form memories.

I don’t want that for myself.

What I picture is Prince Charming. Like from one of my books. A man who looks at me like the moon hangs above my head. Like I have everything to offer.

Like he thinks that I’m powerful. Like he believes I am powerful.

That’s the kind of man I want. Someone who will love me and shower me with affection.

I want that more than anything.

But I’m not going to get it here. No. Here, I’m going to get a wrinkly old man who smells and wants me to wash his feet.

No, there’s nothing for me here. Nothing to keep me here, either.

And I can’t wait for the day I can leave.

FIFTEEN

RONAN

The first thingI think when I wake up is that someone is in my bed. I’ve never woken up with someone before. A jolt of panic runs through me before I see the mess of red hair and remind myself that Sydney is here.

My arm is draped over her small frame, my face practically in her neck. As I move over, a small moan exits her mouth as she sprawls out, scaring Shiloh in the process. He sends a glare my way, like it’s my fault his mother nudged him.

I almost want to wake her up, but I don’t. Why don’t I?

Maybe because she looks so peaceful. I’ve never looked at her like this. Never noticed the light sprinkling of freckles across her cheek or the way her blond eyelashes curl naturally.

The spicy scent of whatever perfume she wears wraps me in a gentle haze, sucking me in. Is it perfume, or is it just her? Did she bring it from her apartment? Does she keep it in her bag? I make a mental note to check at some point. I tell myself it’s not because ofherbut simply because I like it.

Sometimes, we can get so wrapped up in what we know that we forget that other people exist outside of our bubble. My entire life has been my job. Has been sacrificing myself for the greater good. Letting myself be taken advantage of. I’ve been okay with that.

But with that comes forgetting that some people are just human. They’re doing the best they can, and that should be enough.

Sydney holds the sins of her parents close to her heart. That much is blatantly obvious. But her decision to run from it, to turn her back on what she cannot control, is natural.

Her soft curls frame her face like the sun, and suddenly, all I want to do is run my fingers through it.

I don’t know what’s coming over me.

Maybe I simply don’t want to wake her up because I know the second she does, she won’t shut up.

Yeah, that’s the reason.

---