Rooming with the Wicked

42 | can't or won't?

What the hell?

The edge of the paper crumbled under my tight grip as my eyes flew over the first paragraph.

New evidence suggests the disappearance of Irene Pierce may have been planned by none other than the victim herself. Sources close to the family reveal that Mrs. Pierce may have wanted an out. Her infant daughter, however, was not included in her plan. Ambassador Benjamin Pierce, father of the child, allegedly found her left to fend for herself after he returned from a work trip.

Bullshit. Mom would never leave me.

Would she?

The distinct sound of the garage door opening made me flinch.

Haze shut the binder in his hands with a quiet thud and made for the door. This time he only lingered there for a second. Bright crimson eyes snapped to me. "Looks like someone's home after all."

No, no, no. I needed more time. If Dad found out I was onto him now, he would have more than enough time to prepare—to come up with some kind of theory that he could present me with.

Haze must have seen my panicked expression because his fingers closed around the hilt of the sword on his back. I'd almost forgotten he'd insisted on bringing that thing. "I got this," he said.

"No!" I jumped up and grabbed his elbow. "It's just... Just my stepmom."

I think.

"Oh." He lowered his arm and frowned. "So, I don't need this?"

"No. As much as she gets on my nerves, she's harmless."

"Well, if you change your mind..." His lips curled up ever so slightly. "Say the word."

Noted.

"Let's just..." I scrambled for all the loose papers about Mom. "Let's grab what we have and go. If I'm lucky, he won't notice anything is missing. At least not for a while."

He nodded slowly and scooped up the binder once more to tuck it under his arm.

"You found something else?" I asked.

"Think so."

I hated to admit it, but stumbling into him at the park might have been the best thing that could have happened to me today.

We'd just closed Dad's office door behind us when the click of high heels on hardwood sounded from up ahead. She was in the kitchen. Right between us and our exit.

"Ariel, is that you?" my stepmom called, her voice somewhere between a yell and a screech.

Suppressing a curse, I grabbed Haze's arm and pulled him further into the house. The back part of the living room opened in front of us. Except for a new glass table, the sitting area made of two large, beige-colored L-shaped couches and a couple of matching armchairs still looked exactly the same. To the left, wide, carpeted stairs led to the second floor.

I made a beeline for the back of the stairs, still dragging Haze with me. With one hand I opened the storage room door, swiftly but quietly, with the other, I shoved him inside. He opened his mouth to protest, but I raised my index finger to his lips, silencing him.

His eyes widened, but he complied.

Before I could overthink what in the world had driven me to touch him like this, I stepped back and slammed the door in his stunned face.

Smooth.

The feel of his soft lips still lingered on the tip of my finger by the time I retrieved my alchemy notebook from my backpack. I pretended to unzip my pack once more when I saw my stepmom approach out of the corner of my eye.