A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(23)
Author: Suzanne Young

“Interesting point.” He stretches his arms over his head, letting one fall behind me on the couch. “How about I take you to a party with me tonight? As my date. I’ll give you lots of reasons to be with me. I can be very convincing.”

“I’m sure.” Just then my phone vibrates in my purse next to me, and I grab it, happy for the distraction. It’s Lucy. My entire body is on pins and needles right now, the conversation making me uneasy.

“Missed your call,” Lucy says the minute I click the phone on. “What’s up?”

“Your car won’t start,” I say. “Is Dad there?”

She exhales. “That thing is such trash. Yeah, he just got back. Dad!” she yells off the line, and I wince. She could have at least covered the receiver.

When my father gets on the phone, I tell him that I’m at Abe’s and give him directions. He doesn’t sound entirely pleased that I’m at the house of a guy he already assumes I’m dating. But I’m relieved when he says he’s on his way.

When my father arrives and beeps the horn, Abe walks me to the door. He’s been silent during the entire ten-minute wait.

“Thanks for coming over,” he says quietly, as if still self-conscious. “Sorry it wasn’t more exciting.”

Abe seems so disappointed that I impulsively hug him, wrapping my arms around his waist as I rest my head on his chest. I feel him relax, his cheek on the top of my head. Sadness fills me, as if it’s spreading from Abe’s body to mine. But before I say anything, the car horn beeps again, and I pull away.

When I get outside, I tell my father that I was picking up Abe for lunch when Lucy’s car died. I don’t mention the fact that it’s in front of a psychic’s house, hoping he won’t notice. I’m not sure how I’ll explain it if he asks, because Abe’s right—I’m a terrible liar.

Oddly enough, Lucy’s car purrs to life the first time my dad turns the ignition. He shoots me a pointed look, as if asking me what I’ve really been up to all morning.

But just being close to Marceline’s house again has put me on edge. I remember our conversation, the fear and grief I felt. The story she told can’t be real. Because if I believe her, I have to believe that I’m not human. And I just can’t accept that.

After we get home, I take a nap—sleeping off the residual effects of the mint—and then shower for work. As I stand at the bathroom mirror with my hair twisted up in a towel, I notice the dark circles under my eyes. I feel like I haven’t slept in weeks, as if I’m . . . The thought sticks in my head, making tears gather. It’s as if I’m wearing away.

I sniffle back the start of my cry and find Lucy’s makeup bag. I dab on her concealer, even a little eyeliner. Anything I can to look normal. When I’m done, I’m better. Not great—but better.

I walk out and find my dad in the kitchen making an early dinner, a red dish towel hanging over his shoulder. “And the dead have risen,” he says without looking up. He’s been using that same joke for years, but it’s suddenly not very funny. “How was the nap?” he adds.

“Refreshing.” I pull out the pitcher of lemonade and I pour myself a cup, sipping slowly. “So . . .” I start. He side-eyes me.

“What?”

“Abe asked me to a party tonight.”

“I’m not sure I like it, Elise. I knew you’d date eventually, but he just seems too experienced for you.”

“That’s just a rumor. I mean, Lucy doesn’t even know him. I want to go to a party, Dad. And Abe’s a gentleman. Completely, I swear.”

My father looks doubtful.

“What if I bring him to church?” I offer. “If he can sit through your sermon he has to have pure intentions. No one else would subject themselves to that sort of torture.” I smile. My father takes a lot of pride in his sermons, but I can’t help it—they’re boring. So Lucy and I tease him about it sometimes.

“Sunday,” my father says, as if it’s settled. “I’ll expect you and your . . . guy friend in the front row. Paying very close attention.”

“Wow,” I say. “What will you ever do if I get a boyfriend?”

“Fret.”

I sit down and wait for dinner, clicking through the laptop that Lucy left out. The bookmarked page is WebMD and I worry again about her cramping.

My father sets a plate of pasta in front of me before sitting. “Have you or your sister tampered with the security alarm?” he asks.

“Uh, no. Not that I know of.”

“Doesn’t set anymore.”

I widen my eyes as if that’s fascinating and take a bite of food. It sounds to me like the gods of sneaking out have smiled upon Lucy.

“Have you been taking your vitamins?” my father asks.

“Yes,” I mumble, knowing that the vitamins won’t help. I quickly compliment my father on his ever-improving culinary skills, determined to not think about Marceline’s stories.

“They say good cooking keeps teenagers home more often,” my father says. He pauses, staring into his plate. “You know, Elise. I’ve been thinking about what’s happening with you—the out-of-body feeling.”

I look up. My father doesn’t even know half of what’s wrong with me, but he might still have answers. Better and more rational ones than an old psychic’s.

“I think it could be delayed grief from your mother’s passing,” he continues. “Or even this move from Colorado. Maybe it was too sudden. I should have thought it through longer.”

“Dad,” I say, reaching for his hand. “This isn’t your fault. Lucy and I could have dug in our heels and demanded to stay in Colorado, but we didn’t. So if I’m emotionally scarred for life, you’re not the one to blame.” I smile, unable to let him beat himself up. “It’s Lucy’s fault too.”

He chuckles, telling me to finish my dinner. It’s difficult at first, but I swallow it down, along with my fear. I wish I could talk to him about the Forgotten, but I know he’ll be disappointed in me for going to the old woman in the first place. My father grows silent. Thoughtful.

“Elise,” he says after a long moment. “Do you remember what your mother used to say near the end, when she was very sick?”

Pain aches in my heart, reminding me of the loss. “She said life was too short to mourn the dead.”