She didn’t deserve his sympathy.
She didn’t deserve anyone’s forgiveness.
Least of all this Breed’s.
Or her parents’.
Even Mark’s.
“It was my fault,” she told Jonas, staring into the back of the shadowed cavern now, her gaze unfocused, her need to escape threatening to overwhelm her. “It’s all my fault.”
“No, sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault.” From the corner of her eyes she could see him wiping his hand over his head, the short strands of his black hair gleaming in the low light of the cave. “None of this was your fault.”
Oh, but how very wrong he was. It was all her fault.
She was childish, and her temper had done far more than just get her in trouble this time. This time, it had destroyed the person she loved more than anything.
“I wanted to go to the party,” she tried to explain, but even to her own ears, the excuse was so stupid. So immature.
Why had that party been so important?
“Gypsy, what happened here wasn’t your fault.” His deep voice was rough, and she bet he managed to convince a whole lot of people of a whole lot of lies.
But he couldn’t convince her of that lie.
“I slipped out of the house. My friend Khileen was picking me up. She lives in the desert.” Khileen Langer was from England.
She and her family were staying in New Mexico on her stepfather’s desert estate, where they were visiting for the summer. She liked Khileen. Liked the way the other girl was always laughing and daring her to have fun. To not be so serious.
She couldn’t ever let anyone convince her of that again.
“There was this party,” she continued, forcing herself to speak. “And a band and everything that some college boys were having in the desert. I just wanted to go see my friends, and the band.”
And maybe drink a little.
Maybe flirt with some of the boys from school.
“So you left for the party?” he asked her.
Her breathing hitched and she shuddered.
It was like her soul was crying, but she couldn’t cry herself because Mark had asked her not to.
“He was angry at me for some reason.” Her fists clenched in the material of the shirt as her lips trembled and she hugged her knees closer to her br**sts. “We had a deal.” She rocked against the agony burning brighter inside her. “I would always tell him if I was going to a party and he would make sure he was there, so he could . . .” The whimper that escaped her surprised her. “So he could make sure I didn’t get in trouble or get hurt.”
“But you didn’t tell him you were going?” he asked then.
Gypsy frowned. “I did. I tried, but he yelled at me.” Why had Mark yelled at her? “He told me to just go away, that I was irritating him.” She stared into the darkness intently. Why hadn’t Mark ever told her that she irritated him? She would have tried to stop. She really would have. “Mark has never yelled at me before.”
He had always loved her, always been patient with her.
“Were you aware your brother was in trouble?” he asked her then. “Did he tell you there were Coyotes searching for him? That the Genetics Council had identified him and sent a team to ensure that he couldn’t steal the information he was hacking into anymore? That they were looking for him tonight?”
She turned to him slowly, blinking back in confusion. “I swear I didn’t know. Mark was just acting so weird. He wanted me to stay in my bedroom and he wouldn’t talk to me. He was being sharp and didn’t want to be bothered. And he wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to tell him I just wanted to go to the party. He wouldn’t let me tell him anything.”
She was going to throw up. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to have to find a place to throw up in privacy. Mark hadn’t acted frightened or scared or worried. He’d been very, very angry, though, and he was snapping at her whenever he caught her out of her bedroom and ordering her back into it.
He’d hurt her feelings and made her angry at him. She’d decided to just go without telling him. He wasn’t talking to her, why should she talk to him?