“Maybe there’s hope for you,” she said with a decisive nod.
Maybe there actually was, because of her, but I downplayed it.
“Unlikely, but don’t be a bitch.” My lips curved as the warmth from her kiss spread to the rest of me. The cold ashes inside my black heart began to glow.
• • •
Lace
“I think we both need hope,” I whispered, skimming my fingers over War’s skin. I understood him, understood how it messed you up having a mother like he did, like we both did.
He leaned into my caress. “I agree.”
Suddenly, I felt more mature than him. Stroking the unyielding line of his jaw with my thumb, I noted the roughness of his stubble. It scraped my nerve endings in a pleasurable way. Everything he’d shared, everything he’d shown me tonight, it all resonated deeply.
I swallowed to moisten my dry throat, and I gave him raw truth, like I used to do with Bryan. “I haven’t had a lot of hope in my life.”
“I’m sorry. I wish life treated you different. You deserve hope.” War’s eyes softened to the color of chocolate—warm, melted milk chocolate.
“I think I . . .” I stopped and restarted. It felt like that kind of night, like a new beginning. “I believe we have to make our own hope in this world.”
“Yes, we do. Though my methods and the lengths I’d go to make hope happen might be more drastic than yours.” He studied me a long beat, then asked softly, “What happened with your parents, Lace? Why aren’t you living with them?”
Ice water flooded my veins. I dropped my hand and lowered my head.
“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He captured my hand and brought it to his face, pressing his lips into the center of my cold palm. Warmth pooled in my skin and spread through the rest of me, like ripples on a pond. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. I guess I better get you back home.”
“It’s not my home,” I blurted, lifting my chin, and his eyes widened. “I mean, I live there, at my uncle’s house, but he doesn’t really want me or Dizzy there.”
“That’s shitty.”
Because War didn’t push me, because I knew he would understand, truth that I’d buried deep came out. All of it. “My mother’s a drug addict. She sleeps around to pay for her next fix. She never even told Dizzy or me who our father is. I’m not sure she knows.”
“Oh, Lace.” War reached for my hand, closed his fingers around mine, and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”
Because I knew his reaction wasn’t pity, I continued. “She’s been an addict ever since I can remember. Alcohol, pills, coke, but her preference is heroin.” I let out a mirthless laugh. “She prefers it over everything, her own dignity, even above my brother and me. She offered me to her dealer in exchange for a fix when I was eleven.” The night of the Metallica concert, the dark memory tried to surface, but I quashed it before it could fully form.
His brows dipped. “I don’t know what to say. That’s—”
“Horrifying,” I said, pressing my lips together for a moment so I wouldn’t cry.
I hadn’t shed a single tear since that night, but it wasn’t denial. It was an act of defiance. That event and being my mother’s daughter didn’t define me.
“Bryan’s mom called the cops before anything too terrible happened. CPS intervened and placed us with our uncle. But it’s only a temporary arrangement.” I took a breath, then exhaled before giving him the rest of it. “Uncle Bruce reminds me nearly every day how much taking care of us puts him out. He says his life is on hold because of Dizzy and me. Once we graduate, we have to move out.”
“I understand. My old lady gives me ultimatums all the time.” War’s eyes flashed, the copper filaments in them suddenly on fire. “It sucks that all the grown-ups in our lives are assholes.”
I nodded. War’s anger was my anger, though I expressed mine with attitude. His was outright confrontation. “I hate being in that house with him.” And I hated that I was weak and tried so hard to please him.
“I hate being at my place too.” War’s brows drew together, forming a determined line between his eyes. “Once I graduate, I’m gone. Sooner if the band breaks out.”