Bridges Burned (Entangled Teen) (Going Down in Flames)

by Chris Cannon

  Jaxon grabbed Bryn’s arm, holding her in place while Lillith kept walking. “Leave. Now.”

  “I can’t just run off.” She jerked her arm from his grasp. “Pretend you’re sick or something.”

  “Westgates never run from a conflict.”

  “But it’s okay if I scurry off.”

  “You have no family reputation to uphold,” Jaxon shot back.

  “Now I’m staying, just to spite you.” She moved faster and caught up with Lillith.

  “That’s wonderful, Marie. We’ll see you soon.” Lillith tucked her cell phone back into her pocket. “Your grandmother will meet us at the restaurant.”

  “That’s great.” She tried to sound happy. “This will give me a chance to finalize our plans for Christmas Eve.”

  When they reached the restaurant, Bryn scanned the room for Valmont. He appeared from the kitchen wiping his hands on a white-and-red checked towel. His eyes focused on her within seconds. He smiled like she was the best thing he’d seen all day.

  Happy warmth filled her chest as he crossed the room to meet her. His gaze took in Jaxon and Lillith. When he reached her, he put his arm around her shoulders in a proprietary manner, which gave her a warm fuzzy feeling.

  “I’m off work in an hour. Want to go Christmas shopping?” Valmont asked, like Jaxon and his mother weren’t standing there.

  “Sure. I’m having lunch with Jaxon, Lillith, and my grandmother. After that I don’t have any plans.”

  Valmont squeezed her shoulders and then removed his arm. “You’ll need a table for four. Would you like to sit by the windows up front or would you prefer a quiet table in the back?”

  Jaxon said, “In the back,” at the same time his mom said, “By the windows, please.”

  Valmont made a show of looking back and forth between Jaxon and his mother. “Sorry, I think she outranks you.”

  Lillith grinned like a Cheshire cat as Valmont led them to a table by the front windows. “Is this to your liking?” he asked.

  “This is perfect.” Lillith sat when Valmont pulled out her chair. “How do you know Bryn?”

  “I’m her knight,” Valmont stated, like it was the most common thing in the world.

  Lillith’s eyebrows shot up. “How did this come to be?”

  “An obnoxious individual threatened Bryn, and I interceded,” Valmont said as he passed out menus.

  Thank God he didn’t go into details. Today was supposed to be about forgetting Zavien, not dredging up old memories.

  “Why don’t I bring a round of iced tea and some toasted ravioli while you wait for the rest of your party?”

  Bryn’s stomach growled. Toasted ravioli sounded wonderful.

  …

  Jaxon sat ramrod straight in his chair, eyeing the front door like he expected Godzilla to come charging in. Given a meeting with Godzilla or her grandmother, Bryn wasn’t sure whom she’d choose. At least Godzilla wasn’t trying to fix her up with Jaxon.

  What would she say when her grandmother walked in? How should she behave? She had no clue. “Lillith, this is awkward, but how should I act when my grandmother comes in? I hug my parents, but my grandmother doesn’t seem like the hugging type.”

  Jaxon snorted.

  Lillith pretended not to hear him. “If you were close, it would be proper to kiss her on the cheek.”

  She’d spent limited time with her grandmother. “Close” wasn’t a word she’d use to describe their relationship. “I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

  “I suggest you follow her lead. If she leans in, kiss her on the cheek. If not, then a light touch on her shoulder would be appropriate.”

  Like she didn’t have enough to be nervous about. When Valmont returned with drinks and two trays of ravioli, she considered kissing him.

  He winked at her. “I knew you’d be hungry.”

  “You’re the best knight ever.” She unrolled the napkin containing her utensils and speared a ravioli with her fork. A quick dunk into marinara sauce, and she popped the ravioli in her mouth. It was crunchy, spicy Italian bliss. She was working her way through her sixth ravioli when conversation died down around them.

  Marie Sinclair entered the establishment and heads turned. Fonzoli’s probably wasn’t on the list of restaurants her grandmother visited on a regular basis. Wearing a crisp dove-gray suit, her grandmother broadcast power and influence. Bryn resisted the urge to apologize for her gray sweatshirt and jeans.

  Jaxon stood to pull out her grandmother’s chair.

  “Mrs. Sinclair, how nice to see you again.”

  “Thank you. It’s lovely to see you and your mother as well.” Her grandmother sat and turned to Bryn. Expectation and challenge clear on her face.

  “Hello, Grandmother.” Hoping for the best, Bryn leaned in and pecked her grandmother on the cheek. “It’s nice to see you.”

  A genuine smile lit the older woman’s face. “Thank you. It’s nice to see you, too.”

  Okay. That went better than expected. Now what?

  Valmont appeared next to Bryn. “Mrs. Sinclair, may I bring you something to drink while you study the menu?”

  “I’ll have a glass of white wine and the pasta primavera.”

  Since she probably shouldn’t eat an entire pizza in front of her grandmother, what was the easiest, least-likely-to-drip-on-her-shirt meal she could order? Best to choose something she could eat with a knife and fork.

  “Bryn?”

  An escape route wasn’t within Valmont’s power, so she decided on two pepperoni calzones.

  After everyone placed their orders, her grandmother said, “We should discuss our plans for Christmas Eve.”

  It was hard to discuss something she knew nothing about. “What time do you usually have dinner?”

  “Dinner is served at eight. Of course the orchestra starts playing at six.”

  Wait. What? “You’re having an orchestra?”

  Her grandmother sighed. “I tried to convince your grandfather we should go with a three-string quartet, but he had other ideas.”

  Three-string quartet? What had she gotten herself into? “When I hear ‘Christmas Eve dinner,’ I imagine sitting down to eat with a few family members. What do you mean when you say it?”

  Her grandmother blinked. “I’m referring to our annual Christmas Eve ball.”

  A ball…as in Cinderella-riding-in-a-horse-drawn-carriage kind of ball? Where is my fairy godmother when I need one? What in the heck would she wear?

  “I’ve never been to a ball,” seemed like the only rational response.

  Jaxon snorted.

  Bryn’s grandmother turned her steely gaze on him. “Did you have something to add to the conversation, young man?”

  “No. Sorry. That was rude of me. I can’t imagine a life where you’ve never been to a Christmas ball.”

  Bryn imagined beaning him in the head with a ravioli, but then she realized this wasn’t about Jaxon. It was about mending fences with her grandparents. Keeping her voice calm and even, she ignored Jaxon and addressed her grandmother. “A ball sounds fun. I assume people dance and eat. What else happens?”

  “After dinner, we adjourn to a separate ballroom where everyone opens one present. The rest are saved for Christmas morning.”

  Okay. Her grandparents had more than one ballroom. Interesting. Did she need to buy presents for her grandparents? What could you buy for people who had two freaking ballrooms?

  “I love watching the little ones open their presents.” Lillith’s hand drifted to her stomach. “It will be a few years before Asher figures out how Christmas works.”

  “Asher?” Bryn’s grandmother asked.

  Lillith practically glowed. “I’m expecting a boy.”

  “Congratulations.” Her grandmother held up her wine in a toast. “I hope he brings you as much joy as Jaxon has.”

  Bryn snorted.

  Jaxon glared at her.

  Bryn tried to look repentant, but ended up laughing. “Sorry. It’s just tha
t I don’t associate you with joy.”

  “He wasn’t always this intense,” Lillith said. “You should have seen him when he was three. He walked around clutching this bear—”

  “Mother.” Jaxon sounded like he was moments from exploding.

  Lillith reached over and ruffled his hair. The mutinous expression on his face almost made Bryn choke on the ravioli she’d popped into her mouth. “Bryn needs to know you’re not always this serious. After all, if the Directorate approves your lineage—”

  “Here’s your food.” Valmont passed out entrées, oblivious to what he’d interrupted.

  “Anything else I can get for you?” he asked.

  “Strychnine, or a noose,” Jaxon muttered.

  “Sorry, you have to call ahead for special orders.” Valmont touched Bryn’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll rescue you if things turn ugly.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her grandmother watched Valmont walk away. “Are you friends with the waiter?”

  “He’s my knight.”

  “You do seem to foster relationships with the most inappropriate people.” Her grandmother’s tone was frosty.

  Fire rose in Bryn’s throat. Concentrating, she pushed it back down. After taking a drink of her ice water, she cut into the calzone. “Valmont is one of the most honorable people I know. If anything bad were to happen, I know I could trust him to be on my side.”

  “And you couldn’t trust me?” Her grandmother’s tone was flat and cold.

  Just like that, lunch went to hell. Bryn set her fork down and gave her grandmother her full attention. “If I played my role according to polite society, this is the part where I’d declare my undying trust in you. However, I was raised to be honest. The truth is, I don’t know you well enough to answer that question. I’m sorry if this starts us out on the wrong foot.”

  Lillith and Jaxon both looked like they were ready to duck and cover. Had she ruined everything?

  “Although my daughter is to blame for your lack of social skills, at least she instilled in you a good moral code. While I don’t like your answer, I appreciate your honesty.”

  Bryn’s shoulders slumped in relief.

  “Do sit up straight, and try to keep your elbows off the table.”

  After adjusting her posture, Bryn tackled the next thorny topic of conversation. “Are my parents invited to dinner Christmas Eve?”

  Sipping her wine, her grandmother stared off into the distance. Was she remembering Christmases past? Had there ever been a happy Christmas Eve at her grandmother’s house? They probably hadn’t stayed up all night eating cookies and stringing popcorn.

  “Your grandfather and I decided it might be best if your parents came for a private visit on a different day.”

  That was convenient. She gripped her fork tighter and tried to keep the snark out of her voice. “Any day in particular?”

  “A day between Christmas and New Year’s would be ideal. You can discuss it with them when you return home for the holidays, and then we’ll make plans.”

  Strain showed around her grandmother’s eyes. Giving this inch must’ve cost her a lot.

  “Thank you for agreeing to see them.”

  Her grandmother nodded. “On to more important business. Do you have an appropriate gown for the ball?”

  She had the copper dress she’d worn to the fall dance. Not a happy memory. God forbid she wear a dress her grandmother deemed inappropriate. Best to ask for help. “What type of gown are we talking about?”

  “We should go shopping together.” Lillith announced like it was a fabulous idea.

  If the woman weren’t with child, Bryn would’ve kicked her.

  “I agree.” Bryn’s grandmother tilted her head and studied Lillith. “Are you feeling well enough to go shopping after lunch, or do you require rest?”

  “I’m fine.” Lillith turned to Bryn. “I know you planned to Christmas shop with your knight. Perhaps you can reschedule?”

  Noooooo. She wanted to spend time with Valmont. Now it appeared she’d have to spend the day with her grandmother and Lillith.

  “I’m sure your friend will understand.” From the set of her grandmother’s jaw, saying no wasn’t an option.

  Bryn pushed her chair back from the table. “Why don’t I go chat with him right now?” She headed for the kitchen door and waited for Valmont to appear. He finished taking an order at a table across the room and then headed her way.

  “In need of a rescue?” he asked.

  “Yes, but I don’t think it would help my relationship with my grandmother. She wants to go shopping after lunch. Could I meet you later?”

  “Sure.” He reached over and brushed a crumb off her chin. “Why don’t you come back after you finish shopping?”

  “Thanks for understanding.”

  “Part understanding. Part fear. Your grandmother is one scary woman.”

  Chapter Twenty

  After lunch, Bryn followed her grandmother, Lillith, and a mutinous Jaxon to a small dress store off the main street.

  “I didn’t know there were stores back here,” Bryn said.

  “It’s not a store, it’s a boutique.” Rather than reach for the door handle, her grandmother pressed what looked like a doorbell. The saleswoman glanced up from the cash register when she heard the bell and flew across the room to unlock the doors.

  “Mrs. Sinclair, how lovely to see you.” Jaxon and his mother walked in. “And the Westgates—it’s always a pleasure when you stop by. What can I help you with today?”

  With all that sucking up, the woman must work on commission.

  “I need a Christmas gown for my granddaughter.”

  The saleswoman glanced at the door, like she was searching for another person. Bryn cleared her throat, and the woman put the puzzle pieces together. “Sorry, I expected someone more…”

  “Blond?” Bryn said with a grin.

  “Yes.” She swallowed and seemed to regain her composure. “Come with me. I’m sure we have something perfect for you.”

  Right.

  The woman whisked her off to a dressing room and then returned with a dozen dresses. Wait. Not dresses. They were gowns…actual ball gowns made of what she knew had to be real silk. Every single one had ruffles or sequins or lace. The bodices were stiff and the skirts were floor length.

  None of them looked like something her grandmother might wear. Was this a test?

  “Excuse me, I need to ask my grandmother a question.” She stuck her head out of the dressing room. “Do the gowns have to be so…frilly?”

  “Frilly?” Her grandmother frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “The dresses are age appropriate,” the saleslady said.

  “I’m sure these dresses would be lovely for someone else. I’d prefer something without ruffles, or lace, or sequins.” She looked at her grandmother. “Unless you disagree. I’ve never been to a ball before, so maybe I don’t understand what’s expected.”

  Her grandmother shot the saleslady a look that would’ve reduced a small child to tears. “Remove those gowns from the dressing room and find Bryn a strapless silk sheath dress in a dignified color.”

  “Of course. My mistake.” The saleslady scurried off to do as her grandmother asked. When she was out of hearing range, Bryn said, “One of the dresses had ruffles and lace and sequins. I think there might have been some feathers mixed in as well.” She shuddered. “It was awful.”

  “Was it lavender?” Lillith asked.

  Bryn nodded.

  “That dress has been here forever. I think they’ve been trying to pawn it off on some poor girl for the last twenty years.”

  The saleslady returned with a handful of dresses. Tight-lipped, she hung them in the dressing room and then retreated to the cash register.

  Bryn examined her choices. This was more like it.

  There was an emerald sleeveless gown that resembled something an actress might wear on the red carpet. Could she pull it off? Only one
way to find out. Stripping out of her clothes, Bryn slid into the whisper soft silk. She checked the three-way mirror and did a small happy dance. The dress fit like a glove. The knee-length slit allowed her to walk without shuffling her feet.

  She stepped out of the dressing room. “What do you think?”

  Lillith clapped her hands together. “It’s lovely.”

  Head tilted to the side, her grandmother scanned Bryn from head to toe. “Turn around.”

  Ignoring the resentment she felt at being ordered around like a puppy, Bryn did as her grandmother asked. When she completed the rotation she expected to find her grandmother nodding in approval. This was not the case.

  “Tell me those tattoos aren’t permanent,” her grandmother said.

  Bryn’s throat grew tight. Zavien had drawn the tattoos with permanent marker. Bryn used her skill with Quintessence to keep them vibrant, thereby avoiding needles. She’d requested the image of the Blue and Red dragons, head to tail in a yin-yang circle, because it represented who she was. Zavien had added a small black dragon on her right shoulder signifying she was an honorary Black dragon. She could remove the black dragon, but the yin-yang dragons representing her mixed parentage stayed.

  “Do you dislike tattoos in general, or mine in particular?”

  “Both.” Shoulders squared, her grandmother appeared ready to do battle.

  Bryn took a deep breath and blew it out. There were going to be bumps in this road to reunion, but in the end it would be worth it. Hopefully. “If you can give a little, I’ll give a little. The yin-yang dragons stay, and I’ll make the smaller one disappear.”

  “I’d prefer it the other way around.” Her grandmother straightened the sleeve of her blouse.

  “It represents who I am.” Bryn smoothed her hands over the skirt of the gown. “Even if I remove the tattoo, people will know who my parents are. I won’t hide my heritage to make others comfortable.”

  Fingers drumming on the armrest of the couch, her grandmother’s lips set in a thin line. “Fine. Now, let’s talk about your hair color, or colors. Perhaps you could pick one?”