“Honey, you don’t have to. We’ll take this one day at a time. Let’s get your dad up and get you home,” Dr. Churchill reasoned. “One of us will call you tomorrow. We might have the vaccine by then.”
I shifted back to look at them. He had his arm wrapped around Deb and she looked... happy.
My mouth pressed. I was glad someone was.
***
We woke my dad up and gave him some lame excuse that he had fainted, but really a Lydent came in a mindswept him. At least that is what the good doc called it. June appeared and fussed over him a bit. She wanted to know if she could bring us dinner tonight. I promptly agreed before Dad could. He twisted my way with a strange stare. I just shrugged. I could put up with June coming over in order to keep my dad's attention elsewhere.
We left the clinic with the promise to see June around six tonight. Dad was quiet on the way home, and I wondered if there were any lingering effects from whatever that Lydent person did to him. He did seem to be off, even for him.
When we arrived at home, there was a package at the door. I went to pick it up, but Dad beat me to it. "No, I got it." He gestured to the door. "Just get that open."
I pulled the keys from his fingers and unlocked the door. "What is it?"
"Just something I ordered online," he replied vaguely, entering the house and heading down the hallway to his office.
I pursed my lips and shut the door, leaving his keys on the side table. What was my dad hiding?
Dismissing my worries, I moved into the kitchen and set my bag on the counter. I went to the fridge and drew out the pitcher of lavender lemonade and a stick of pepper-jack cheese. My snack before dinner. I poured my drink and munched on the cheese, going over everything I remembered.
They had said something about memories in objects. I paused and turned in the direction of my room. Was that what my mom's wedding ring was? A place to store her memories?
My snack forgotten, I hurried down the hallway to my room before throwing open my closet door. My gaze met my dresser. It wasn't there. My shoulders sagged. Where did I put it?
I riffled through my drawers, trying to remember where I had put it after I fell. I had it when I went to... Pivoting around, I strode over to my bed and dropped down, looking underneath. There it was, a shadow of the gold ring.
I reached for it and grabbed it between two fingers. A memory flashed.
It was a younger version of my mother and she was shaking her head, so upset. The feelings of my mom's anger, frustration, and a desperation for freedom overwhelmed me. There was also the feeling of betrayal. Betrayal by her people.
"I'm sick of being who you want me to be when you’re pretending yourself! Why, mother?"
My mom wasn't hurt on the outside, but on the inside she was in turmoil. She hated her mother.
"You don't have a choice. Neither do I," a haunting voice replied. It came from the woman who remained at my mom’s bedroom door. It was her mother. "We are better; we should act as such. One day you'll understand."
“I will never understand,” my mom spat. “You’re a fraud. One day others will see that.”
The woman's expression became frosty as she shot daggers at her daughter. “Pray dearest” - her voice dripped with scorn - “that that day never comes.” Then she slammed the door to my mom’s room, leaving her inside.
As quickly as the memory surfaced, it dissipated, leaving me laying on the carpet floor with the ring no longer in my hand.
"Shit."
I laid there staring at the ring, wondering if I should try and pick it up again, before spying a dirty sock. I muttered, "Might as well."
I grasped the dirty sock and picked up the ring with it, sighing in relief when I didn't pass out again. I dragged myself out from under the bed. "No skin contact, no memories," I surmised as I walked back to my closet and placed the ring in the top drawer of my dresser, tucked in with my socks. It was as good as any place and one where I could quickly grab something to pick it up with.
What were my mom and grandmother talking about? From the feelings I sensed from the memory, Mom did not like her mother at all. I studied the ring that held my answers. "But why did my mom not like her?" I lifted my hand to touch it once more but paused when my dad called out.
"Hannah!"
I snapped the drawer shut and replied, "Coming!" I'd have time later to figure things out.
I dashed out of my room and into the kitchen to see what Dad was calling me for, and he held out my cell phone. "You have guys calling you?"
I took it from him and muttered something witty as I spun away and headed back to my room.
"Hello?"
The strong, sure voice of Jamison came over the line. "Hannah. You doing okay?"
I wondered how he got my number but realized that Win must have passed it along.
I threw myself onto my bed and sighed. "As good as I can be. What's up?"
"The guys and I were told about you going to the Lydent council."
I shifted. "Yeah, why did the good doctor change his mind about that? I thought they wanted to protect me, and after he saw my mark, it was like he couldn’t get there fast enough."
"You - you don't know?" He sounded... shocked.
“My mark means I'm Snowden and Win’s mate or something? That we can be kick ass together."
“And me,” he said quietly.
I sobered. "Oh. Well, don't worry about that. I won't hold you to it. I think it was just a way for the council to not deny the doc keeping me or something? Like protection." I shrugged, then remembered he couldn’t see me. "So, we're good. You're good. I won't hold you to anything."
I waited for him to answer, but Jamison stayed silent. "Hey, you still there?"
"You don't understand. It’s not just the three of us. Quinn and Drex are a part of it, too. It won't be that easy to brush us off. Not for us. Would you" - he cleared his throat - "would you date someone else?"
Shocked by all of them being my mate, I hesitated. We had been hanging around one another for weeks. Did they know then? If so, how?
I approached the subject of “mates” carefully. “Jamison, did you all know from the very beginning who I was to you?”
“No. Not until Win and Snowden’s dad said that you were his sons’ mate. It was then that we knew.”
I was confused. “How?”
He sighed. “Like your mark, all five of us have the same one. We’re in a mating group. So when their dad announced it, we knew you were ours too.”
I scrunched up my nose. "Mating group? Really? Couldn’t they have come up with something better to call it? And I'm not even sure I'm going to live long enough to get that serious with someone. I know your uncle says that Elixer shot will cure me, but don't blame me for being skeptical."
“It will,” he said with confidence. “It has to.”
“Why? How are you so sure it will work?” I was curious as to what his answer would be.
“I'm not sure who was talking to you about your mark, but they didn’t explain it well. Do you think we could meet up? Maybe I can answer some of your questions.”
I sat up, thinking about it. Dad did have June coming over, and I wondered if he would mind if I ditched dinner. “I'll talk to my dad. We have someone coming for dinner, but maybe I can get out of it. Where do you want to meet?”
“Don't worry about meeting me, I'll come by and pick you up. Just shoot me a text.”
“Okay. Is this the number that you want me to text?”
“Yep. Program it into your phone. It's mine. Call me anytime.”
“Alright, I'll talk to my dad and get back to you.”
I hung up with him and went to search out my dad. Passing through the kitchen, I noticed he had put away the pitcher of lavender lemonade and left my cup out on the counter. In the family room, I found him sitting down on the couch watching television, probably trying to get his mind off of everything. When his gaze caught mine, he patted the seat beside him. “Come and sit down. I�
�m just watching the game.” He gestured to the television.
I sat down beside him and curled my feet beneath me. “Hey, since June is coming over for dinner, do you mind if I go out?”
Dad’s attention swiveled my way. “You’re going out with that boy?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Well, I want to meet him. Copy his driver's license before you guys go.”
Rolling my eyes, I replied, “It's not my first date, Dad.”
“It is with him,” he countered. “And you know this isn't my first rodeo either. You know what happens when you go out on a date. His license needs to be copied, but I'm allowing him to get away with not having a copy of his car registration. Just because it's a small town.”
I sighed, patted his knee, and got up . “Yeah-yeah I got it. I'll tell him.”
“Good.”
I walked away as he continued to watch his game and went back into my bedroom to send Jamison a text, letting him know to have his license ready to be copied.
Jamison: What does that mean?
Hannah: Just how my dad rolls.
***
My dad called it a date, but I knew what it really was: an information drop. Where I would ask a million questions, and Jamison would answer them. I was tired of only having bits and pieces of the bigger picture.
I knew what he was talking about when he mentioned ‘mates,’ but this wasn't a fairytale, and falling in lust with a girl just because of a shared mark seemed antiquated. It didn't mean I didn't feel the attraction. I'd lied when I said I was okay with them not pursuing me. I wanted to give them options. I mean, come on, I’m awesome! But I wanted them to choose me because they genuinely liked me. Not because someone told them to or some magical mark. At first sight I fell into to lust with them, you'd have to be an idiot not to, but then when the good doc said they were my mates, that threw me.
I mean, two guys, I could deal with, but was it wrong to want the others too? I knew I was being selfish, changing my mind and wanting to push everyone away, then completely flipping by wanting to keep them. I was so confused.
Jamison came an hour later and my dad did his thing with his driver's license before we left. Like a good guy, Jamison raced around his humble tan sedan and opened the door for me. I glanced back to my house where Dad stood with a grim expression. I bet he was rethinking Jamison using his car to drive his only child around in.
Then Dad called out, embarrassing me further, "Are you sure you wouldn't like to take my daughter’s car, son?"
The car wasn’t that bad. Jamison held the door open as I slid into the passenger seat, then closed it before answering him, "Nope, we got it."
Jamison shot me a rueful grin as he got in. He inserted the key and turned over the engine. It purred. "Your dad's funny."
My lips tilted up. "He wasn't trying to be."
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jamison merged carefully on to the road then picked up the pace. "We don't usually drive around in cars because we shim everywhere, but there are occasionally places we've never been which require a picture or a vehicle to get to. That's why my car looks rough, because I don't use her as much.”
“Makes sense.”
Jamison drove through my neighborhood to the highway and merged on. We headed back toward Blackfoot and to the same neighborhood that Win and Snowden lived in.
“Why are we coming here?” I questioned, recognizing where we were. We passed Burke street and turned onto Maple.
“This is where I live,” he replied. “Is it okay if we eat dinner at my house? I know that you have a certain diet, so I figured we could make something there. I’m a pretty good cook; trust me.” He turned to give me a grin, his eyes shining. He was happy. “My uncle's going to be gone getting your vaccine. Instead of having the council do it, he offered.”
I smirked back. “That was nice of him. And I’m fine with eating at your place.”
Jamison pulled into the driveway of a regular-sized house. It must be one of the smaller homes in the area. The garage door raised and he parked inside. “We’ll be alone for a bit until the guys try to find you. They’re at Warrior Training. Snowden loves that stuff.”
Warrior Training?
He was speaking so fast, like he was afraid I was going to say no or never mind, that I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
“I'll make some dinner first,” he suggested, getting out of the car. He circled to my side, and before I could even reach out for the handle, he opened my door.
Swinging my legs out, I peered up at him with a teasing smile. “Who knew you were so nice?”
Jamison's cheeks turned pink. Was he blushing?
“Um, thanks,” he answered, embarrassed and most likely not certain what else to say.
“I’m teasing you,” I assured him, climbing out of the car.
He shut the door. “Yeah, I knew that.”
Catching hold of my hand, he tugged me through the door that led inside. I followed him through a dark hallway past a laundry room and into the living room and kitchen area. But this wasn't just any living room and kitchen; the open concept rooms took up a large amount of space.
While Win and Snowden’s house seemed homey and full of life, Jamison's house was sleek and more refined with clean lines and neutral color palette. A modern masculine meets model home. There obviously weren't young kids that lived here.
“Just you and your uncle?”
“Mm-hm.”
Jamison led me into the kitchen, which had cream cabinets with silver knobs and an island in the center with light grey granite that had beautiful earth tone colors swirled in it. He guided me to a bar stool at the island and had me sit down. "Just a second."
He hurried over to the cupboard and pulled out two glasses. Setting them on the island across from me, he gave me a wink before making his way to the stainless steel fridge.
He pulled out a purple glass pitcher with delicate cracks that were embedded inside the glass on purpose. It was handmade; I could tell due to the technique that had been used. It was gorgeous.
“Who made the pitcher? It's glass blown, right?”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise as he poured some purple juice into each cup. “Yeah, it is actually. How did you know?”
It was my turn to blush. “I saw some tutorial on television about glass blowing. Some show talking about how things are made. I remember them saying one of their techniques leaves crackles in the glass. And there’s the obvious special touches like the handle twist.”
Jamison nodded and pushed the purple drink to me. "Yeah, I wouldn't know very much about it; you’d have to ask Quinn. He's the one that made it."
I caught the drink as my mouth popped open."Quinn? He made that?"
Jamison's smiling eyes met mine as he nodded. “Yeah. He makes all sorts of stuff."
I glanced down to my drink. "Is that his talent or gift? Glass making?"
Jamison took a sip of his drink. "No, he just does that for fun. His Lydent talent is enpochent. He has the ability to freeze time, but only for humans.”
“I can see that.” I bit my lip, ducking my head to stare at my drink, thinking back to those times I felt like I was moving slowly. I felt it with Quinn but also with Win.
I glanced back to him. “Anyone else have that talent?”
He grinned, moving to another cabinet to pull out a sauce pan. “You tell me.”
I watched him go back to the fridge and pull out several items to make dinner. I answered cheekily, “Winnie-Win-Winter?”
Jamison busted out laughing as he set the items on the counter between us. He pointed to me and gave me a serious look. “I want to be around when you call him that.”
My cheeks bunched up and my mood lifted. “I’ll do my best. So... is it him?”
He was getting out a cutting board and knife when I asked and waited until he was back across from me at the island to answer. “Yes.”
“Wait, back to Quinn, you can have more than one tale
nt?”
He nodded, grabbed a tomato, and started cutting. “Yeah, but that only happens when your parents are mates.”
“Win mentioned something like that.”
“Hmm, well, the Lydent council encourages mated couples to have as many kids as they can, hopeful that they’d get a girl.”
“He didn’t say anything about that.”
Amused, Jamison went on, “The twins have two sisters. Miles Luxton, the guy that you met me with and sits with us at lunch sometimes, is Beth’s brother.”
“Ugh, Beth.”
“Yes. She can be... unmanageable. Don’t expect a warm welcome from them, even being Lydent. Those two were the newest ones for a long while; they’ve become spoiled. Even their mates have gotten caught under their demands. Try the juice. You might be surprised.”
I glanced down to it. "What is it?"
"Just try it."
I picked up the glass and sipped from it. The bittersweet taste burst across my taste buds, leaving me wanting more. "Mmm, lavender mint lemonade?" I wasn't sure. It tasted different, more bittersweet.
He grinned. "Good, right? It’s lavender, mint limeade with a splash of lemon, and heated honey to sweeten."
My brows lifted in surprise and I grinned. "Honey? You did do your homework."
He grinned. "Of course."
I shifted on my stool as I watched him scoop up the cut tomatoes and put them into a bowl along with the onions and garlic he had cut up.
“What are you making? Will I be able to eat it?”
He shot me a grin as he went back to the silver fridge to pull out a packet of raw chicken. “I hope so; I did my homework, remember? I’m also making extra since I know the guys will be swinging by.”
I placed my elbow on the counter and propped my chin in my palm, watching him. “So what is it?”
He opened the chicken and dumped it into the pot of water he had heating. “Chicken taquitos.”
“Are you using whole wheat tortillas? White ones typically have more carbs, which turn into sugars. Not so good for me.”
He didn’t answer me but finished what he was doing and then washed his hands, again giving me a grin.
The Bridge Over Snake Creek Page 18