Phoenix Flame - Sara Holland Page 0,17
thought was Nate’s death—and Mom’s arrest, the press came after Dad hard, even though they’d already been divorced for years at that point. It got so bad that he sold his house and traded it in for one he could put on a truck bed, so that whenever someone sniffed out his address, it was no problem to just up and go. But he hasn’t moved for years now. Not since meeting Marla, not since settling down here and establishing a garden, a routine, a life.
The door opens, and there he is. Dad lights up as soon as he sees me, his weathered lips parting in a big grin. He pulls me into a hug, the familiar smell of home cooking and faint cigarette smoke wrapping around me.
“Maddie.” He steps back and holds my shoulders at arm’s length, like always when I get back from Havenfall, and his eyes widen as he takes me in. “You look …”
I blink, unsure what he’s going to say. I know I haven’t gotten taller since he last saw me. Haven’t gotten a haircut or anything. But I do feel different. I feel like everything that’s happened this summer—the Silver Prince, losing Brekken, the Solarian door opening, Marcus falling ill, becoming the interim Innkeeper, blood and violence at Havenfall, Taya, Nate—has changed me on a molecular level. I didn’t realize the change showed on my face, but somehow I’m not really surprised either.
“I’m okay, Dad.” I smile at him, feeling the weight of everything that’s changed since I last saw him.
The realization hits me with a thud. I can’t tell Dad that Nate might be alive. There’s too much to the story he can’t know, since he doesn’t believe in magic or Havenfall or Realms. But it feels wrong to keep that hope from him. Nate was Dad’s family too. His adopted son.
“How was your trip?” Dad pulls my backpack from me and leads me through the house into the kitchen. “Marla had a shift, but she sends her love. And she got pancakes started for us.”
Sure enough, a mixing bowl and pan sit in the sink, and pancakes are piled on a plate on the counter. The kitchen is clean and flooded with sun, and two glasses of orange juice and mugs of coffee sit on the small, weathered table. A familiar haze, mixed nostalgia and loneliness, settles around me as I sit down at the place settings Dad has laid out.
“How’s Marcus?” Dad asks as he busies himself getting pancakes for both of us. He knows Marcus has been sick, but not more than that. “I know I wouldn’t want to come down with anything in that little town. Does Haven even have a doctor?”
“Unclear,” I say with a laugh. “There is a guy that the people of Haven go to with aches and pains, but I’d be shocked if he actually has a degree. Luckily Graylin took good care of Marcus.”
“And what about you?” From across the counter, Dad’s eyes zero in on me, narrowing in good-natured suspicion. “Have you been studying for your SATs like I asked? Are you still dating that guy Brock?”
“Yes to studying. And his name’s Brekken.” I feel my cheeks redden, not knowing how to answer his other question. It’s not like I could go on normal teenager dates with Brekken, being that he’s a soldier from another world. And there’s no way I’m telling my dad about the kissing. Anxious to change the subject, I ask Dad, “How’s Marla?”
Marla is one of Dad’s favorite subjects, so the question is enough to set him off on a long, adoring tangent about how Marla is up for a promotion at the hospital. And just like that, things feel normal again. Well, almost normal.
The thing with Dad is, I once tried to tell him about Havenfall’s magic and the Adjacent Realms. It was when I was a little kid, and he nodded along with me, asked questions, seemed to take me seriously. But then I overheard him on the phone with Grandma Ellen later, laughing. You should hear the stories she tells, Ma. The imagination on her, I can’t believe it sometimes.
He didn’t really believe me. He was just pretending.
While I know Dad didn’t mean anything bad by it, the wounded betrayal I felt at that moment is still burned into my mind. Yet even so, I still find myself wanting to tell him what’s going on with me, or at least as close to the truth as