Along the Indigo
Page 29
“About us moving from the boardinghouse, remember? We still need more money.”
“Actually, Nina’s going to give me a raise, so that’ll help a lot.” And we also have an extra four thousand dollars. That’ll help a lot, too.
Shine would still fight them leaving, Marsden knew. Maybe she would even threaten to turn her back to them if they didn’t stay, her love for her daughters as volatile as a storm over the Indigo.
But things had changed. Brom was over, no longer her mother’s prince. And Nina would be more than happy to see them gone from the house, considering what Marsden knew about her. Which meant except for her daughters, Shine would be alone. How far would she go to prove her desperation was greater than theirs?
That was something Marsden didn’t know. But she was no longer going to pay for her parents’ decisions—or be the excuse for their failures.
Wynn went to lie down again. “And Jude can still be your boyfriend, wherever we end up living in Glory.”
In the shadows, Marsden had to smile. It was hearing it stated so naturally, how Jude Ambrose was very much her boyfriend. She liked how it sounded, those words put together in just that way. She liked it a lot.
“Okay, I should go, or Jude’s going to start throwing more rocks at the window.” She slid off the bed and stood up. “Don’t tell anyone about him showing up here so late, all right?”
“Only if you make waffles for breakfast.”
“With chocolate chips, I know. Hey, we should try something new next time, okay?”
“Like what?” Wynn said through a yawn.
“I don’t know. Banana anise muffins.” Marsden shook her sister’s foot through the blanket. “Rice porridge. Steamed buns.”
“What’s all that?”
“You’ll see, runt. Now, good night.”
Downstairs, she flicked on the light above the stove before quietly opening the back door.
Jude closed the gap within seconds. His mouth was hot, the thrill of his tongue against hers both primal and sweet. He still tasted like cinnamon. She didn’t give an inch, pushing back even as she felt she was barely holding on.
Then his stomach growled, and they both laughed, their lips still tangled together.
He pressed his mouth to her neck, making her ache. “Christ, it’s late, but I’m not sorry at all for coming over.”
She pulled back and did a onceover of his injuries.
Beneath the porch light, he was a palette of colors, from pink to red to purple, his bad eye at the dark end of the spectrum. Cuts everywhere that were properly scabbing now. She thought he looked like he’d challenged an entire gang—a gang made up of his father, his fists, and bottles of alcohol—to a fight and was lucky to have walked away in the end. She had a hard time connecting the image of that man to the one she’d met, the one with the cool blue eyes and cultured accent who barely looked at her as she stood in his kitchen beside his son.
Marsden held the door open, and Jude was about to step inside when he suddenly stopped.
“Wait a second, I almost forgot him out there.” He stepped back out and lifted something from the floor of the porch.
Him?
He held a water-filled glass bowl, and inside, Peeve swam in circles. In the half-lit kitchen, the beta’s fins were minute flashes of deep color, glowing and winking.
“I was thinking your sister could adopt Peeve.” Jude shut the door with his foot. His cheeks had taken on a hint of blush. “You said she’s always wanted a pet, and he’ll just be sitting in a bowl in her room, so she can’t get into trouble for that.”
“But Peeve was Rigby’s.” Her pulse in her throat hurt. She knew how much it all meant, him bringing Peeve.
“I keep worrying I’m going to forget to feed the poor sucker.” He placed the fish bowl on the table. “I’d feel guilty forever. And Rig—I bet he would have gotten a kick out of Wynn. I was going to give her all his Shindiggs tapes, too, but I figured you guys already had that covered.”
He said all of this with a new kind of ease, the acceptance of his brother being gone, of Rigby being an imperfect person. Jude had been anger that had nowhere to go, a bird smashing its own wings as it battered at an unbreakable cage. But even the worst of cages had its weak spots, bars that could be bent away to lead to escape.
Marsden had escaped with him. She could never leave the covert entirely behind, but it was no longer all she saw ahead. She’d bent bars of her own.
She leaned up and kissed him, more gently this time, thinking of his cuts and bruises. “She’ll love Peeve. Thank you.”
Jude pulled her close. “More.” The word was soft, rough, and desperate against her mouth. “I won’t break.”
“But you’re hurt.”
His eyes said he thought she was, with everything they now had between them that would never be simple or go away completely. “You’d tell me if you weren’t okay, wouldn’t you?”
Marsden ran her hands through his hair, touched his lucky scar. “I won’t break.”
“So, then, more. Please.”
Acknowledgments
I wrote the book, but Along the Indigo wouldn’t exist without every single person on this page. My thanks to all of you.
My brilliant, passionate, and tireless agent, Victoria Marini. I’m so very lucky to have you in my corner, and I wouldn’t be here doing any of this without you.
My wonderful editor, Anne Heltzel, who believed in this book from the start. You saw all the things I couldn’t, and that’s why you’re a genius.
The rest of my team at Abrams—my copy editors, proofreaders, and publicists—and your endless enthusiasm and support for this book. I will always be grateful.
Author and writer friends Ellen Oh, Mindy McGinnis, Caroline Tung Richmond, Dhonielle Clayton, Mark O’Brien, Bethany Morrow, and Camryn Garrett. For helping me get this book on track and for sharing with me all your talent and wisdom. I owe you guys so very much.
Bak and Hing, Wendy, Ray and Peggy, Heather and Terry, Ashley and Steven, Dallas. Your constant encouragement means the world.
And, of course, Jesse, Matthew, and Gillian. I once thought dedications were a kind of thank you. But I was mistaken, because I can never say it enough. So thank you, for every single thing.