“You know I always have a hard time saying no to you,” Savanna said.
“I know,” Lyric said, smiling fondly.
“But you always ask me,” Savanna said, putting her hand to Lyric’s cheek. “And that’s what I love about you.”
“That I always ask?” Lyric queried.
“That you always think enough of me to ask,” Savanna replied.
“Always babe,” Lyric said. “Always.”
In her own master suite in her mothers’ house, Cody took a shower, washing off the makeup and washing her hair to get the green color out of it. Her hair was white blond with the black roots, like Lyric’s. Unlike Lyric’s longer hair, Cody wore it in a sort of long fade, the top longer, with shaved sides and back. Cody then focused on washing her body, with the soap skimming over the tattoo on her thigh, the letters SUR. A slight grimace flickered quickly across her face. Gritting her teeth she continued her shower.
Lyric found Cody later in the backyard, smoking and drinking a Smirnoff Ice. She was tossing balls for her two pit bulls, rescues from the local shelter. Lyric grinned; this was Cody’s way of dealing with things, she’d take in strays to fix them. Lyric and Savanna had insisted she limit it to two dogs at a time, but Cody was forever getting them to the point of being so sweet that she easily adopted them out and was able to go back and adopt more. The local shelter loved her for that. Cody focused on pit bulls, saying, “Nobody wants them, I know how that feels.”
“So, Mom says you want a new bike…” Lyric said, moving to sit across from her daughter.
Cody nodded. “And she thinks it’s too fast.”
“She does,” Lyric said.
“And what do you think?” Cody asked, her hazel eyes looking over at Lyric, expressionless.
“I think that you’re gonna do what you want to do anyway,” Lyric said. “But that’s not a bike you can afford to lay down,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “So you’d damned well better be careful, or there won’t be any skin left for a skin graft. You got me?”
Cody pressed her lips together seriously, nodding.
“Your mother loves you, so do I. We just don’t want you to get hurt, Code,” Lyric said, knowing that even though Cody wasn’t her biological child, Cody was just like her at that age; wild and itching to push the envelope to the max.
“I know, Mom,” Cody said. “But sometimes I just gotta go fast…”
“The demons’ll still be there, Code, ’cause they’re in here,” Lyric said, leaning forward touching the center of Cody’s chest.
Cody nodded, looking circumspect.
“Just be safe,” Lyric said then, knowing that Cody would take in what she wanted and discard what she didn’t want to hear or feel.
Lyric went into the house a few minutes later, and she and Savanna both heard Cody’s phone playing music. Savanna looked sharply over at Lyric when she heard the song they heard far too often. The song, “Crawling” by Linkin Park, had lyrics sent chills up Savanna’s spine every time she heard their daughter listening to it. What was worse, was that Cody always sang the words with conviction. Lyric stepped over to Savanna, hugging her as the song played outside. The lyrics talked about wounds that wouldn’t heal and that it was so hard to control how she was feeling. They were very dark, very deep lyrics and spoke to all of Cody’s inner demons.
“I hate that damned song…” Savanna gritted out, as the song ended.
“I know, babe,” Lyric said, rubbing Savanna’s back. “We can’t fix everything. You of all people know that.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier to take,” Savanna sighed.
“I know,” Lyric said, glancing out the kitchen window at their headstrong daughter, knowing that Cody had a long way to go. “She’ll get there, babe.”
“Before or after she manages to kill herself?” Savanna asked.
Lyric looked back at her wife, grimacing and shaking her head. “I wish I knew.”
They both stared out the kitchen window, watching Cody play with the dogs and both hoping that she could work through a short but traumatic lifetime of issues. They would be there for her every step, but there were some steps they couldn’t take for her…
Also in the WeHo series:
When Love Wins
When Angels Fall
Break in the Storm
Turning Tables
Marking Time
Jet Blue
Water under the Bridge Page 21