Wildfire

Chapter 43

43. Shock

Diego didn't take my decision to stay in Brainerd for another night well. I called him while I got ready for bed, my head aching with exhaustion. I could almost hear the clock ticking away in my brain, eating at my thoughts, and I knew he had to be feeling it too.

The strain of the last few days was starting to catch up on me and a part of me wanted to crawl under the covers and just stay there. There were too many unanswered questions and not enough time to solve them all, from Adalia's killer to the truth about my father — and then there was Diego's impending death.

I huffed in frustration as I climbed into bed, that constant feeling of helplessness weighing down on me. I felt like I was watching an old movie in my head, my eyes scanning each grainy scene for their true meaning. Each affectionate gesture exchanged between my mother and I was analysed and examined, until I found myself wondering if she had ever loved me, at any point in her life.

I tried not to cry myself to sleep, but the memories kept coming and eventually, I was swallowed by the force of my emotions. I buried my head in my pillow to muffle my sobs.

_______________

The next day was easier. I felt nervous when he came to pick me up but my earlier animosity had given way to curiosity. I was a little on edge, my brain still suspicious of every word that came out of his mouth, but he kept the conversation light in the car on the way to the restaurant.

"Louisa told me you were at university. What are you studying?"

"Anthropology," I told him. "I took a few classes on the spur of the moment but I actually quite like them."

"Any career ideas?"

"No, not yet." I shrugged. "I'll figure it out."

He didn't say anything to that, and I wondered if he disapproved of my lack of plans. I used to have plans; I used to have everything decided right down to the outfit I was going to wear the next day, but the last few weeks had thrown my habits off kilter. My only plan was to stay alive at this point.

He chose one of the more upscale restaurants in town and I followed him inside, a little apprehensive. The hostess showed us to a seat near the window and I sat opposite him, reaching automatically for the menu. I pretended to read it while I thought of something to say, but there was only one question that came to mind: Did you drug my mother with a supernatural powder?

The words never made it to my lips, however. I wasn't sure that I truly wanted to know the answer to that question.

Not yet, at least.

"Are you taking any extra classes?" he asked after a few minutes.

I looked up from my menu, grateful that he'd spoken first. "Not with the university. I take kickboxing classes at a local gym, though."

Interest flared in his eyes and he leaned his arms on the table. "Do you like it?"

"I like knowing that I can protect myself," I said honestly. I didn't add that it had been him — or rather my idea of him — that drove me to it in the first place.

"Good." He nodded approvingly. "It's important that you can."

I smiled hesitantly. "You taught me that, you know."

"Did I?" He seemed amused for a moment; it was just a slight curl of his lips, but I caught it nonetheless.

"The trips you used to take me on. Camping, hiking. There was always some sort of lesson involved," I explained.