asked, throwing the question over my shoulder.
"Of course. I said I was, didn't I?"
“You did, but girls lie." I winked at her. "You looked like you had a fun day ahead of you, not an appointment to get a shot."
Her mouth tightened. "It was supposed to be fun. We were going to go to the park next."
"You were, huh? So the doctor's was a lie?"
“Maybe."
"I'm not sure your mom would be happy to think of you cutting school to hang out with your friends, Cyan, do you?"
She shrugged. "Mom doesn't care about me. All she cares about is work."
I snorted at that bullshit, because no woman left a Sinner like Storm without reason. And that reason? Self-respect and the need to imbue it into her daughter.
As Storm's woman, Keira wouldn't have had to work a fucking day in her life. Yet, here she was, slogging away at the diner, working hard for little pay, and barely any gratitude from her kid.
My reaction had Cyan scowling. "Are you laughing at me?"
"You bet your ass I am."
"Why?" she snapped, her eyes flaring wide with agitation. "You have no right to laugh at me."
"I have every right, because you just proved to me how young you are because no one, no one, loves working at a damn diner more than they love their daughter. She isn't exactly saving lives, is she? Ain't finding a cure for cancer in the bottom of a pot of coffee... what on earth made you think she cares more about her shitty job than you?"
Tiny shoulders hunched. "She's never around anymore."
"Probably because she's working hard to put food on the table."
"Dad sends money."
"Yeah? Does he also send self-respect?"
That had her peering at me, her eyes round. "What does that mean?"
The Keurig hissed and spat as coffee sputtered from the spout, and I kept my attention on it, rather than her, as I asked, "You know when you ace a test, and it feels good?"
"Yeah."
"If you'd cheated, if someone else had done the hard work, would it feel as good?"
"N-No."
"That's self-respect. Your mom can take your dad's money, or she can work hard to show you that you don't need a man to put food in your belly.
"Sure, it sucks that she isn't seeing you as much, and I'm sure that hurts her as well. But I bet it hurts her more that you're so upset with her when all she's trying to do is prove to you that she's worth more than just the pennies your father lays in her hand.
"What's she supposed to do with the rest of her life? Just let him keep on providing for you both?"
"At least I'd see her," was Cyan's grumbled retort.
"You could go to the diner, you know? You could sit there, it's kind of what you do in a diner. You could do your homework there, and when she's between orders, she could talk to you then."
"It isn't the same."
"Why? Because you don't get all her focus? Grow up, Cyan," I said with a snicker. "You don't even want her full attention, because if you did, then I doubt you'd have been able to skip school to hang out with Martin."
I turned around just in time to see her cheeks burn a bright red. "He's my friend. He's interested in me."
"Yeah? I'm interested in you too. Tell me, what do you and he do together?"
"We just hang out."
I hummed. "That all?" I raised my coffee to my lips and took a sip even though it was scalding hot. Then, deciding to throw whisky onto the flames, I asked, "Does he kiss you? It feels nice when a man kisses you on the lips, doesn't it?"
Eyes widening, she sputtered, "He doesn't do anything like that!"
"No? What do you do then? Does he hold your hand?" I knew he did. I'd seen that on the street.
"No," was the belligerent retort, which meant I couldn't believe a fucking word she said.
At least I could see she had a tell. The more mutinous she was, the closer I was to the truth.
I just hummed. "When I was younger than you, I had someone who showed me a lot of attention. It feels nice, doesn't it?" The lie burned inside me like acid tearing into my organs. "It's strange at first, because, when I was that young, I used to think all boys had cooties, but I liked the way he treated me like I was so grown up.” I cast her a look. "Is