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Chapter Nineteen
Kayla
“How’s Allie?” I’m tossing my Tarot cards around, not doing a proper spread for once. For some reason, I’m not in the mood. “She hasn’t moved back with that asshole, has she?”
“No, she hasn’t,” Wyatt says. “Not yet, anyway.”
“Crap. Do you think she’ll go back?”
“It’s possible.” I can practically hear him shrug. “That’s Allie, after all. Pig-headed like all girls.”
“Screw you,” I say without heat, my mind on Allie. “She said Mom would never find it acceptable if she left her fiancé. Do you think that’s true?”
A beat of silence. “Look, Mom’s not a sadistic bitch or anything, okay? I know you two don’t get along, but if Mom knew that guy beat Allie… He really beat her, right?”
“Wyatt, she’s covered in bruises.”
“But are you sure it’s him?”
“You seriously asking me this? She was crying. She was afraid if he came back he’d hurt us both. And he tried.”
“Okay. Then… yeah, I don’t think Mom would be in favor of that.”
“Good to know her daughter’s life is worth more than the neighbors’ speculation.”
“Damn, Kay, why do you hate Mom and Dad so much?” He gives a teenager-y long sigh. “I honestly don’t get it. They’re good people. She’s a good cook. She wasn’t happy with you studying fashion but didn’t lock you up in the basement, either, did she?”
I swallow. “No, Wyatt, they didn’t lock me up in the basement. Because I left home.”
He mutters something I don’t hear as I flip over a card. Temperance. Transformation. Reconciliation. Hope.
Is that for Allie? For me?
For Ocean?
He’s been in my thoughts more than ever, if that’s possible. He filled my mind before, and now it’s as if it’s overflowing with his face, his body, his voice, his past and his present.
“Kay, are you listening to me?” Wyatt barks in the phone.
“Yeah, of course.” I flip another card. It’s become a habit, an unconscious move. Knight of Cups. Romance. Affection.
Huh.
“You weren’t listening. I said, when will you visit? I want you to meet someone.”
“Don’t tell me! The girl from the Iranian family down the street? The one Allie has been talking my ears off about?”
“Has she now?” He sounds amused. “I don’t care what Allie thinks of her. But if you feel the same way…”
“No! I mean, really, no. I don’t feel that way, Wyatt.”
“Good,” he says quietly. “She’s awesome. I want you to meet her.”
“I’d love to.” I bite my fingernail, thinking. “I’m glad you didn’t let our parents influence how you see the world. I was afraid…” I swallow hard. “That you thought like them.”
He’s quiet for a few beats. “Is that why you left? Because they have these ideas?”
“Yeah. I mean, Jesus, Wyatt, they keep commenting on how terrible it is to have a different skin color, or religion. Or culture. Like being different is a disease, and they hate anyone who isn’t just like them, in every way. I hated how they were trying to change me, to force these ideas into me. Plus…” I sigh. “I know this isn’t as serious, but they also disliked any fashion statement of any kind, and fashion, style, means a lot to me. It’s an expression of your personality, you know? Of your beliefs. This stifled me. It killed me. It made me ashamed to be living with them, and fighting them every day of my life on everything was exhausting. That’s why I left. And I’m glad I did, although I miss you.”
