The Skylar Experiment : Dead Ending (second draft)

Chapter Twenty-Three - Dear Old Friend

*long chapter ahead. Almost 3k words with an important author's note to read*

LUC

I TOSSED THE HISSING KETTLE off the burner grate and poured out a rill of boiling tea. Camomile and lavender fumes infused the grand, ivory kitchen. I wasn't partial to tea, but Heather appreciated it for as long as I could remember—for as long as I've been around. The mug was warm in my grip as I stalked towards the living room. 

She accepted the cup, not without an obstinate shake of her head. Her ponytail was slacking from the endless hours she dedicated to her shift. She just returned from the hospital and had barely shed off her coat.

"I can make myself tea, you know?" she said, half-disregarding my offering.

I slumped against the side of a chair, spying her directly from my vantage position. An apparent side-effect of her job was the smudgy ringlets under her eyes, but they seemed to have worsened drastically, and her face was sallow, drained. 

I didn't think I'll ever stop admiring this part of her; the way she saved lives at every turning corner, not realizing how much of a crucial difference she made, her tenacious work ethic. She blended so seamlessly with the humans like she was one of their own. There was never a challenge Heather hadn't overcome, even alone as a busy mother of three. Years later since Lauren and I were brought to Oakwood, it now made sense why Greg entrusted her with us. 

I'd been too short-sighted to see that earlier, like with a lot of other things. In the first year under her roof, I'd raised hell before letting her approach me. I brought tears of desperation in her eyes. Heather had often wondered what to do with me, and I knew that I'd given her endless amounts of shit, but she hadn't given up on me no matter what.

Now, it was my turn not to give up on her.

"I know," I replied, bobbing my head to one side. Riley was currently training with Tony, and I left the cabin to check on her. "I just wanted to visit again."

Heather smiled like whenever a guest showed up, but it was bitter and dull. It was so strange, being in this house without hearing Ethan's running footsteps or breaking, preteen voice. My brain still expected to catch him balancing a soccer ball in the yard or chasing after Maia around the halls. The brutal thought crashed into me, beat my conscience, until it sharpened like a stake to the heart. 

There were people on this Earth who deserved all the furious consequences of their actions, but Heather did not deserve to arrive from the hospital into this empty house, without her son in it, her pride and happiness. It was bad enough that Ethan's father had died a long time ago, way before me and my sister butted into the picture.

"You could ask for some time off from the job," I suggested. "Overworking yourself doesn't help."

"No..." Heather leaned forward, sipped from the mug and set it down on the glass table. "I need the job to get my mind off it for a while. It helps more than it does harm, Lucas. Thank you for the tea, however, and for coming over."

I inched nearer but stopped, unsure how to handle this. I was never clever with feely stuff. No day passed by without sensing the weight of the kid's absence, and if I struggled with it, then she was drowning in it. Finally, I willed myself to sit down on the couch next to her.

"Would you like to go out? We can head downtown."

She exhaled a long, drawn-out sigh. She began to stand. "No, I'm tired. I have house chores to do, so maybe another time. I should start working on laundry."