Page 62 of Rogue Survivor
“I promise—”
“I’m not done. You can’t shut me out, and you can’t sabotage this…thing…with Connor. You should have seen him, Mom. He would have died for me. Forme. And not just because I’m your daughter. Because we’re family.”
How can I be this happy and this overwhelmingly sad at the same time? My seventeen-year-old daughter just went through hell, and she’s comforting me. Looking out for me.
“You love him, Mom. I knew that way before tonight. And he loves you back. So promise me you won’t shut him out either.”
So much for not crying any more tonight. Veronica squeezes my pinky with hers, and I swipe at my cheeks with my free hand. “I promise.”
The series of beeps from the front door snap me out of my memories. “Mom? Pizza’s hot! Come on!”
In the kitchen, Veronica tucks a glass of pop in the crook of her arm and balances a plate loaded with not one, not two, butthreeslices of pizza on her cast. But she catches her foot on the edge of the tile, and her eyes go wide.
“Easy now, lil’ bit.” Connor steadies the plate—and V’s arm—like it’s the most natural thing in the world. For him, I think it is. He understands her. And she loves him for it.
The moment passes, the near miss already forgotten. At least in Veronica’s mind. But Connor doesn’t move until she’s safely sitting at the table. “Hey.” Winding my arms around his waist, I breathe in his scent.
“How’s Leah?” he asks, leaning down so his lips brush my ear.
“Coping. Mostly.” Later tonight, I’ll tell him everything. Veronica too. Because we don’t keep secrets in this family. Not anymore.
“What about you, darlin’? How are you?” Connor nudges my chin up, and I meet his gaze.
I want to deflect. To focus on the exhaustion in his eyes. The dark circles under them. But I made a promise. “I’m okay.”
“Isabel.”
“That’s the truth, stud.” Cupping his cheek, I offer him a smile. “I’m okay. Not good. Not bad. Just okay.”
“I don’t like leaving you,” he says. His voice takes on a rough edge, need and desire battling in his gaze.
“I don’t much care for it either. But you’re home now.”
Connor dips his head and kisses me. Backing me up against the counter, he holds me close, and the bulge in his Wranglers sends a thrill straight to my core.
“Get a room,” Veronica says with a groan. “Or…y’know…use the one you have?”
Knowing she’s feeling enough like herself to sass us? It settles something deep inside me.
“So,” Connor says when we’re all sitting around the table with pizza, pop, and the good napkins. “Who wants to go first tonight?”
“Me.” Veronica chews on her lip for a moment, her eyes fixed on her plate. “I told Dr. Daphne I wish I could just start college now.”
“Now?” I ask.
“Yeah.” She shrugs. “I miss school, but going back to the Academy like nothing happened? It’s gonna be so hard. What if everyone stares at us? Or asks questions we can’t—or don’t want to—answer?”
“Did Dr. Daphne have any advice?” The three of us do this every night. Talk about something good. Something bad. Something that’s bothering us.
V pulls a single piece of pepperoni off her last slice and stares at it for a second. “To practice saying, ‘I can’t talk about that.’ Or, ‘I don’t want to talk about that. Can we change the subject?’” With a sigh, she flops back in the chair. “I’m done. Connor can go now.”
I want to give her a hug. Tell her she never has to go back to the Academy. Offer to home school her for the rest of the year. Or the rest of herlife.But our first night out of the hospital, when Veronica asked if we could do this, she set the rules.
No judgement. No advice. And when someone says they’re done, they’re done.
So I just nudge the pizza box closer to her and trust that what we’re building here—this new family we’ve made—is strong enough to weather any storm.
Standingat the door with Connor, I wave as Leah pulls away from the curb. It took a full month for Veronica to ask if she could stay at Mitzi’s for the night, and I’m both nervous and excited for my first night trulyalonewith Connor.
