“And your mom?”
We make it to the end of the cul-de-sac, and I frown. Throwing my gaze around, confused and conflicted, I slow to a halt and turn toward Siân. Before I can ask her anything, she points straight ahead. It takes me a second to recognize the driveway and mailbox, but all that’s behind it is a slit between rows of trees.
“Keep straight.”
I press the gas, and the car rocks over the uneven payment.
“My mom was there, but we weren’t close. She never really spoke to me or played with me. But I had Cynthia. She’s been in my life since the day I was born and, in a way, took the place of my absentee mother.”
“Um,” I mutter.
“Anyway, Cynthia snuck me away and brought me to America, and we’ve lived here since. There have been different places and cities over the years, but this time around, we settled in here.”
“Why here?” I continue to follow the pathway for what feels like forever. It has to be a mile long at least, and just when I’m about to ask how much farther, a mid-sized home comes into view.
“It had been quite a while. The stalker had seemed to disappear, and I finally felt like I could start a life. It took some convincing, but since I’m twenty-five now and getting my master’s, I pled with Cynthia to let me live in the city. The drive to and from school every day was taxing, so it made sense. After a while, she agreed as long as I got a roommate and come home twice a month for family dinner.”
Pulling the car next to the black SUV, I kill the engine and peer through the window at the home. Every light is on that I can see, and a second later, the front screen door flies open. A moment after, the top of a woman’s head pokes out above the row of bushes that lines the porch. This is more of what I would expect for a person on the run, unlike where Siân lived with Kyla. It’s off the beaten path, and unless you know it’s here, you’d miss it. The thick greenery along the front provides not just curb appeal but added privacy.
Cynthia reaches the top step, a smile plastered to her aging face. She waves at us, and I realize she looks exactly how I remember. I was only fourteen at the time, but this woman hasn’t changed a bit. She’s older, obviously, with gray streaks flowing through her long flowing hair, but she’s still just as pretty as she was all those years ago.
“You two look alike,” I mutter.
“Yeah. It’s kind of crazy, really. I guess what they say about starting to look like the person you spend every day with is true. People always assume she’s my mother.” Siân stares at Cynthia for a second, and without turning back to me, she adds, “You know, I’ve never told anyone any of that. Not even Kyla.”
I reach for her hand and bring it to my mouth. “Thanks for trusting me with your story.”
She gives me a soft, tight-lipped smile. “Come on, let’s get inside. I’m starving.”
I release her, and we climb out of the car at the same time.
“You made it,” Cynthia beams.
Siân runs up the stairs to meet her, wrapping her into a tight hug. “We did. I’ve missed you.”
The woman plants a kiss on Siân’s cheek while squeezing her tight. “I’ve missed you, too.” Cynthia takes Siân’s hands and steps back to observe her ward. “Let me get a look at you,” she chimes.
Siân spins, and the two laugh. Their bond is wholesome, something I’ve never experienced before, and a part of me is grateful Siân had that growing up. The only world I know is mayhem, but to see that she’s lived differently warms me. And it almost makes me second-guess my plans—almost.
“Who do we have here?” Cynthia asks and cranes her neck to get a look at me. It’s dark everywhere but on the porch, so it’s not until I step up on the porch does she see what I look like. No sooner than her eyes land on me, her face turns pale, and her breath catches in her throat. Cynthia stumbles backward, but Siân’s hold on her waist keeps her still.
“Cynthia, this is Christian, my new boyfriend.” Siân beams with an arm outstretched toward me.
I force a grin on my face, keeping my eyes locked on Cynthia. She remembers me after all. The wide eyes and now ghostly complexion give it all away. I hold out a hand, and she accepts it.
“Nice to finally meet. I’ve heard so many great things,” I add, gripping her hand tightly, silently daring her to say anything.
She’s smart, and instead of screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs, she sucks in a breath and puts on the best fucking performance I’ve seen in my life. “Boy, you’re handsome. Good job, Siân.” Cynthia swats at Siân. “Come on in before the food gets cold.” She spins on her heels and stalks inside her home.