Page 18 of The Devil's Reward
I roll mine. “Just lounging in the bath, trying to relax,” I reply. “Any particular reason you’re interrupting the few precious moments I have to myself?”
She grins at me wickedly. “Well, I wondered if you finally tried out that rose I sent you. You can’t tell me that thing doesn’t suck the life right out of your body.”
I know exactly what rose she’s talking about. Though, I use that term very loosely. She means the rose-shaped sex toy she randomly sent me a few weeks ago. I don’t understand why she did, but I won’t lie, I was curious enough to try it out, and it had me seeing stars. Not that I’ll tell her. Still, I can’t help the blush that heats my face, and I pray she’ll think it’s just the heat from the water. “No, I’m not using that,” I say primly.
She rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t be a prude, Quinnie,” she admonishes.
Sometimes I wonder how the two of us are related. I’m simple and plain, while my sister is the exact opposite. She’s dyed her hair a dark purple color, styled it long on top and shaved on the sides and back, and got a nose stud a couple years ago. She always wears edgy clothes and makeup, while I prefer low key and comfortable. Still, she’s my sister and best friend.
“Was there a point to your call?” I ask her, changing the subject.
“You mean other than you and I planning an amazing girls’ night out? I’m talking clubs, drinks, and some hot men to dance with. Maybe even to take home.” She gives me a suggestive wink.
I groan. “Peyton,” I whine. “Why can’t a girl’s night be a spa and a movie or something? You know that’s not my kind of scene.”
“It’s not, but it should be,” she shrugs. “And you’re going. We need to do something fun while I’m there, and I’m going to turn you from wallflower to the belle of the ball.”
I snort. “Those romance books you’ve been reading are seriously going to your head.”
“Or just giving me better ideas,” she laughs. “Trust me, Quinnie, read them like instruction manuals, and men will thank you. I have a few you really need to check out.”
I sigh. “Fine, send them to me, but I make no promises. You know I don’t get a lot of time to read.”
“Trust me, you’ll make time for these.” She fans herself dramatically. I laugh, settling in as she goes into detail about one of the books. These are the times that I desperately miss my sister. I’m glad that she and my parents will be here soon.
When I finally hang up with her, the bath has gone cool, so I grab the shower wand to wash off quickly before climbing out and pull the plug. I dry off and get ready for bed before heading back into my room, my head still whirling from my conversation with Peyton. Not just about the books, but her idea of going out for fun.
I hate to say it, but I’ve let myself become only a mom. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, because motherhood is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but people always say to never forget you’re a woman as well. More than just someone who chases the monsters away, or helps with homework. Or, in Macy’s case, keep her out of trouble.
Still, Macy has been my only focus for the past five years, so much so that my only friend is my sister. I don’t have anyone else to talk to when I’m having a rough day, or when I want to laugh and unwind. I moved us here for my job, and while I made an effort in the beginning, after a while it was just too hard, and honestly, I never really fit in anywhere.
I thought Parker’s mom had potential, but I quickly realized she wasn’t looking for a friend, just someone to watch her son. And I’m okay with that, especially since Parker is an amazing kid. Then there was the mom group, but that didn’t work out, so I stopped trying. I guess I need to try again.
Still, making new friends as an adult is tough. There’s always questions about my past, about Macy. How do you tell people those kinds of things? I look at the nightstand, where I have a picture of myself and Macy. We were having a fun day at the beach, and the sun was setting when I took it. It’s a beautiful photo, but Macy’s father is glaringly absent from it. The only picture of him in the house is in Macy’s room and that says a lot. And I really don’t feel like explaining the whole situation, only to be pitied and made a spectacle. I don’t need that, and neither does Macy. She’s too young to understand, but one day, I’ll have to explain it to her.
Just not now.
So even if I find friends, there are parts of my life I won’t be able to share. That I don’twantto share. So I’ll forget about trying to make friends for now. Instead, I’ll focus on my visit with my family and then worry about the rest later.
I climb into bed, happy with my decision, and I’m out before my head hits the pillow.
TWELVE
SHADOW
The past is gaining on me, and I don’t know what will happen when it finally catches up.
It’s odd being back on base again. Some things are still the same; the guards at the gate checking IDs and ensuring you’re supposed to be where you are. Unfortunately for me, people still know who I am. More than a few snap into a salute when we walk by. I barely restrain myself from saluting in return, the training still ingrained, but I do nod my head at them.
“Damn, that shit is weird after all these years,” I mutter as I follow Crypt to his room. The memories pile on as we walk down the sterile hallways. Of all of us racking out after we got back from a mission to finally get some sleep. Of the times that Sam would tease me not to forget to lock my door so I didn’t accidentally sleepwalk right into her room.
I have to push those thoughts out of my mind as Crypt opens up the door and reveals the sparse room where two duffle bags and a box sit on the bed. “Not much stuff,” I remark, looking around quickly. I note that there are no pictures on the wall, nothing to show that the space belonged to someone.
Not even pictures of his family or his teammates. Though, I suppose he could have them packed away in his bag already.
“Don’t need much,” Crypt answers with a shrug.
“Makes things easier to get you set up at the clubhouse. Alright, well, let’s get out of here.” I grab the box and he grabs the duffle bags. He reaches the door before I do and I drawl, “Sure you don’t want to say one last goodbye? You know, get all those tears out?”
