that I’d been in the passenger seat of this car.
Lucas sat fluidly behind the wheel and within seconds, we were out of the parking lot and halfway down Grant Avenue.
I turned to look at him. Lucas Stratton. Driving my car.
I was starting to feel a little bit dizzy.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I told you. I’m taking you home.”
“You know where I live?”
And my name? And my car?
“I know a lot of things about you, Addy Russell. For one thing, I know that’s not your real name.”
I let out a shocked noise, something between a laugh and a cough.
“Of
course
it’s my real name. What are you talking about?”
He was silent for a good, long minute.
“We’ll see,” he said finally, turning left onto Seventh Street.
He
did
seem to know where I lived; he stopped directly in front of Gran’s house. We both got out of the car and Luc hesitated for a moment at the curb as he took in the overgrown yard and the vine-covered front of the old Victorian.
“It’s not haunted,” I said, suddenly defensive about Gran’s house in a way I never had been before.
He looked over at me and frowned slightly. “I didn’t think it was. Come on.”
He headed for the gate leading to the front walk, but I stepped in front of him before he could reach it.
“Gran doesn’t like houseguests,” I warned him.
But then the front door opened and Gran herself appeared in the doorway.
She looked right past me and stared at Lucas. Lucas stared back.
Gran sighed and shook her head resignedly. “Well, come in,” she said. “There’s no use just standing there gawking at me like a couple of chickens.” She turned and disappeared back inside.
Lucas walked through the gate, up the front steps, and through the front door after her.
Without a single, coherent thought in my head, I followed them both into the house.
——
“So, you’ve finally caught up to us, have you? Took you long enough.”
There was an unmistakable note of pride in Gran’s voice, as she set milk, sugar, and a plate of tea cookies on the table in front of us.
“How do you know each other?” I asked. Gran met my eyes briefly, then looked away as she concentrated on pouring tea. Lucas did not look at me. Instead, he leaned forward and addressed Gran.
“It would have been easier for all concerned,” he began, “if you hadn’t—”
“Hadn’t what?” Gran interrupted sharply, setting the kettledown with such violence the table beneath it shook and tea sloshed over the sides of the delicate porcelain cup in front of me. “If I hadn’t taken her away? Hadn’t kept her safe for all of these years?” She made a scoffing sound deep inside her throat, and I drew in a breath; I’d never heard Gran make such a rude noise in my entire life. “What do you know about it, youngling? You’re not much older than she is.”
“Regardless, it’s important that she be kept safe—”
“What does it look like I’ve been doing?” she demanded. “What does she need your protection for when she has me?”
Lucas sighed and stared down at his steaming teacup without touching it. He didn’t say a word, but I could see the muscles in his jaw beginning to clench. Anger, or maybe it was just frustration, gave his already perfect profile an even sharper, more vivid line than usual.
I didn’t reach for my teacup either; my hands were shaking too badly for me to pick it up without spilling. I wanted to say something. But they both seemed intent on ignoring me.
Gran pursed her lips. When she spoke again, her voice had lost the rough, un-Granlike edge it had had just moments before. Her face was kind as she looked at Lucas. “She’s my responsibility, dear. She always has been. It’s what her mother wanted. I did what I thought was right at the time, and I haven’t ever looked back.”
Lucas raised his eyes to her again. “She doesn’t know, then?”
Gran shook her head, and I suddenly snapped out of whatever it was that had been
Lucas sat fluidly behind the wheel and within seconds, we were out of the parking lot and halfway down Grant Avenue.
I turned to look at him. Lucas Stratton. Driving my car.
I was starting to feel a little bit dizzy.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I told you. I’m taking you home.”
“You know where I live?”
And my name? And my car?
“I know a lot of things about you, Addy Russell. For one thing, I know that’s not your real name.”
I let out a shocked noise, something between a laugh and a cough.
“Of
course
it’s my real name. What are you talking about?”
He was silent for a good, long minute.
“We’ll see,” he said finally, turning left onto Seventh Street.
He
did
seem to know where I lived; he stopped directly in front of Gran’s house. We both got out of the car and Luc hesitated for a moment at the curb as he took in the overgrown yard and the vine-covered front of the old Victorian.
“It’s not haunted,” I said, suddenly defensive about Gran’s house in a way I never had been before.
He looked over at me and frowned slightly. “I didn’t think it was. Come on.”
He headed for the gate leading to the front walk, but I stepped in front of him before he could reach it.
“Gran doesn’t like houseguests,” I warned him.
But then the front door opened and Gran herself appeared in the doorway.
She looked right past me and stared at Lucas. Lucas stared back.
Gran sighed and shook her head resignedly. “Well, come in,” she said. “There’s no use just standing there gawking at me like a couple of chickens.” She turned and disappeared back inside.
Lucas walked through the gate, up the front steps, and through the front door after her.
Without a single, coherent thought in my head, I followed them both into the house.
——
“So, you’ve finally caught up to us, have you? Took you long enough.”
There was an unmistakable note of pride in Gran’s voice, as she set milk, sugar, and a plate of tea cookies on the table in front of us.
“How do you know each other?” I asked. Gran met my eyes briefly, then looked away as she concentrated on pouring tea. Lucas did not look at me. Instead, he leaned forward and addressed Gran.
“It would have been easier for all concerned,” he began, “if you hadn’t—”
“Hadn’t what?” Gran interrupted sharply, setting the kettledown with such violence the table beneath it shook and tea sloshed over the sides of the delicate porcelain cup in front of me. “If I hadn’t taken her away? Hadn’t kept her safe for all of these years?” She made a scoffing sound deep inside her throat, and I drew in a breath; I’d never heard Gran make such a rude noise in my entire life. “What do you know about it, youngling? You’re not much older than she is.”
“Regardless, it’s important that she be kept safe—”
“What does it look like I’ve been doing?” she demanded. “What does she need your protection for when she has me?”
Lucas sighed and stared down at his steaming teacup without touching it. He didn’t say a word, but I could see the muscles in his jaw beginning to clench. Anger, or maybe it was just frustration, gave his already perfect profile an even sharper, more vivid line than usual.
I didn’t reach for my teacup either; my hands were shaking too badly for me to pick it up without spilling. I wanted to say something. But they both seemed intent on ignoring me.
Gran pursed her lips. When she spoke again, her voice had lost the rough, un-Granlike edge it had had just moments before. Her face was kind as she looked at Lucas. “She’s my responsibility, dear. She always has been. It’s what her mother wanted. I did what I thought was right at the time, and I haven’t ever looked back.”
Lucas raised his eyes to her again. “She doesn’t know, then?”
Gran shook her head, and I suddenly snapped out of whatever it was that had been
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