“I’m going to be fine,” she said, knowing he really cared, but realizing having people care about her came with a price. Like her ex-boyfriend. Like her dad.
She met Steve’s gaze. He looked upset again, his jaw muscles tightening. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
She’d expected him to be upset, but not this much. “Since when do I have to get permission from you to—”
“I didn’t say get permission, I just meant—”
“I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “Look, I…” She tried to stop the swarm of emotions zipping through her brain. But after everything that was happening, the funeral, her father’s little drop-in visit, learning Chan might be involved with a gang, she was on edge. “I probably would have told you when we were talking, but you were summoned by … Jessie and—”
“What? Summoned by Jessie?” he asked, obviously picking up on her pent-up emotion about the big-boobed girl with the big smile.
“We were interrupted on the phone by her,” Della explained, trying not to let her emotions leak out. When you didn’t have your shirt on, by the way, and she made sure to comment about it, too! Right then, Della wondered if Jessie had known that Steve had been talking to Della. Had Jessie made the comment on purpose? Damn it, Della hadn’t even thought about that angle, and now it made it even worse.
Steve stood there with a funny expression on his face as if trying to follow the conversation. “There was a patient,” he said. “It’s not like it was something personal.”
“You’re right. You didn’t do anything wrong.” At least Della hoped not. “It doesn’t matter.” She looked out the window, really wanting to leave before she said something else. Something like: Forget me ever meeting your parents. It’s not happening. Anyway, I’ll bet they’d like the doctor’s daughter better. “Look, the reason I came here was to tell you I was leaving. Kylie’s mom should be here anytime. I should go.”
“Damn it, Della! Why are you acting this way? Are you mad because I’m working with Dr. Whitman? This is my education. It’s important.”
“So is finding my family,” she said.
She turned to leave through the window.
He caught her. “Wait.” She could hear in his voice that he was trying to hold back his frustration.
“Wait for what?” she asked, and his eyes tightened with anger.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this earlier,” he blurted out, his tone now tighter, deeper.
“Well, if you’d told me about your parents coming, I would have told you a lot sooner that I couldn’t do it.” Wouldn’t have done it even if I hadn’t been leaving.
He let go of her arm and laced his fingers together behind his neck. His soft brown eyes brightened to an amber color. “I’m not just talking about that. I’m talking about the whole uncle thing. And the funeral-home thing. And someone mentioned that you went to that murdered girl’s funeral. And you were already talking to Derek about your uncle, asking him for help, and you hadn’t even told me. You don’t tell me things. Don’t you trust me?”
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you because you were busy.”
“So you are mad that I’m working with Dr. Whitman?”
It’s the doctor’s daughter I have problems with. “I’m just saying you weren’t here.”
“Don’t give me that, Della. I was here all day Sunday and Monday morning. I saw you at the clinic, and we’ve talked on the phone most nights.” He made a low growling sound and stared up at the ceiling. Then he looked back at her. “It’s happening again, just like it always does. Whenever I get a little bit closer to you, you start pulling back. Why the hell is that?”
She felt her throat tighten. She opened her mouth, but no words would form.
Her phone rang. She yanked it out of her pocket, thankful for a reason to look away from the hurt in Steve’s expression. Kylie’s name filled her phone’s screen, and then she saw the time. It was five minutes after four. She was late.
“I have to go,” she said.
“Fine, go!” he snapped.
She got one leg out the window and looked back. “I’m sorry,” she said. Then she took off before he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.
But what the hell was she apologizing for? Pushing him away? Not wanting to push him away? For going to Kylie’s? For not wanting to meet his parents? For being afraid to love? Damn it! She was so screwed up!
“Are you okay?” Kylie asked Della thirty minutes into their drive.
“Yeah,” Della lied. Later, she might tell her and Miranda the truth. Though she wasn’t sure what the truth really was, except that she and Steve had their first fight. Sure, they’d bickered before, but this felt different. It felt … it felt like it could be the end.
“Are you still upset about your dad? Or is it about you and Steve?” Kylie asked.
“I’m okay,” she insisted, thinking Miranda’s pushiness was rubbing off on Kylie. Couldn’t she just drop it? Couldn’t she see it hurt too much to talk about?
The pain sitting like a lump of dough in her chest was a not-so-subtle reminder of why she shouldn’t have let her and Steve’s little “thing” go this far. Why she shouldn’t let it go any farther.
Maybe it was best that it ended. Her chest gripped and a big “hell no” seemed to come from her heart. She didn’t want it to end. But she didn’t want it to go further either, did she? She didn’t want to meet his parents, or let herself completely start relying on him.
She tightened her hands in her lap. Confusion bounced around her sore heart and aching head.
Swallowing the tears before they crawled up her nose and filled her eyes, she glanced forward at Miranda, sitting shotgun in the front seat, jabbering away with Kylie’s mom about being a witch. Kylie’s mom had just learned about Kylie’s supernatural talents—about supernaturals in general—and it was clear the woman was still processing the details of her daughter’s life.
“We don’t actually fly around on brooms,” Miranda said to Ms. Galen, “that is such an old wives’ tale. And the first rule we learn is to do no harm. Not that all witches follow that rule. But if they get caught … well, let’s just say it’s not pretty. And if you screw up really bad, the death angels will torch your butt.”