"I don't know," Holiday said, and Kylie believed her. "But I do know that the FRU is like any other government organization: they have skeletons in their own closet. Why, years ago, before I was born, most supernaturals considered all werewolves basically animals. They used to hurt them."
"Why?" Kylie asked, completely insulted on behalf of Lucas and the rest of his kind.
"Ignorance. Stupidity. Take your pick. It's the same thing that happened to a lot of minority groups. Supernaturals can act a lot more like humans than you'd think."
Holiday reached for Kylie's right hand and opened her palm. "I heard you caught a fireball that would have hit Miranda."
Kylie nodded and then asked the question she'd been wanting to ask since the night of the party. "Do you think this proves I'm a protector?"
Holiday shrugged as if she didn't think Kylie would like the answer. "Probably."
Holiday was right. She didn't like the answer. Especially when it just brought on more questions. "What does it really mean to be a protector? I've heard some of it. But ... okay, here's the thing. Miranda said that every protector she's ever heard of had been a full-blooded paranormal. And I'm not."
"I know." Holiday looked as confused as Kylie felt.
"What could that mean?"
"I don't know, but I could guess it means what I've known all along. Kylie Galen is special." She held up her hand. "I know you don't like hearing that, Kylie, but I think you better start getting used to the idea."
Fear, insecurity, and probably a dozen other negative emotions all washed over her. "What if I don't measure up?" she asked in a low whisper. "What if I'm too afraid to do what I have to do and I turn out to be one lousy protector?"
Holiday pulled one leg up on the porch, rested her chin on her knee, and gazed at Kylie as if she'd said something really stupid, like calling the earth square. "Were you scared when you caught that fireball?"
"No, but I didn't have time to be scared. If I'd known I was going to catch the fireball and had time to think about it, I'd probably have needed to carry an extra pair of panties with me, because I'd have probably pissed myself."
Holiday smiled. "Maybe, but you'd have still done it."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Kylie said.
"Please. Look at this whole Berta Littlemon/Catherine O'Connell issue. I'm scared for you to continue investigating this. I told you it's dangerous, but you refuse to drop it. You put the welfare of others before yourself."
Kylie hadn't looked at it like that, and she guessed Holiday had a point, but ... "I'm not a saint," she insisted. "I sin all the time."
Holiday lifted one eyebrow. "Say what?"
Kylie stared down at her toes for a second. Her pink nail polish was chipping, and so was her courage. Then she looked back up at Holiday's eyes and decided to confess. "Miranda said that protectors are like saints. Not only am I not a saint, I don't even want to be a saint. I want to live a normal life. I want to have fun." She thought of how it felt to kiss Lucas and blushed. "Maybe even sin a little."
Holiday started to grin.
Kylie frowned. "You know what I mean. I want to live my life like every other sixteen-year-old girl. I want to tell dirty jokes with my friends, maybe drink some cool alcohol drink every now and then-that doesn't taste like dog piss-and get tipsy. Not that I'll drive afterward or anything."
Holiday chuckled and Kylie expected the fae had probably picked up on Kylie's emotions and knew what else she wanted to do.
And with whom she wanted to do it.
"Being a protector doesn't make you a saint," Holiday said. "It makes you a caring person. You don't have to give up boys."
Kylie felt her face burn a little hotter. She put her palms down behind her and leaned back. "Well, that's the best news I've had all day."
Holiday laughed again. "How are things going in the 'boy' department?"
"Better. Not perfect," Kylie answered, and she thought about Lucas's reaction to the ghosts and the whole issue with his pack.
"Better is good," Holiday said. "Derek has already called me since I've been back, asking me how you were. He said he heard about what happened at the cemetery. Have you seen him?"
"Not much." Kylie swallowed. She didn't want to talk about him, because then she'd be tempted to ask about the reason for Derek's sudden overcharged reaction to her emotions. If anyone would know that answer, it would be Holiday. But frankly, Kylie didn't think she should care. Not when Derek didn't care enough to put his pride aside and ask for the guidance himself.
* * *
The next hour rolled past and they just sat there on the porch, enjoying the breeze that wasn't exactly cool, but not terribly hot either, and they talked about everything but Lucas and Derek. Kylie asked if Burnett had told her anything about the Brightens that he hadn't shared with her.
Holiday assured her that Burnett wasn't keeping anything from her.
"Have you spoken with your stepdad?" Holiday asked a few minutes later.
"Not since I've been back," Kylie confessed. "But I have an e-mail from him and I'll bet he's planning on coming for Parents Day."
"But you don't want him to come?"
"I don't know," Kylie admitted. "I was almost ready to forgive him. But when he tried to use me to get to my mom by saying, 'Kylie would love for us all to go out for lunch,' that's when I remembered how mad I still was at him for leaving us."
"So you haven't forgiven him yet?"
"Maybe I've forgiven him, but I just haven't forgotten."
"Thing is, those two sort of go hand in hand. Not that you'll ever really forget, but you accept that it happened and move on. You accept that all people make mistakes. No one is perfect."
"And what if you can't?" Kylie watched a bee buzz past her. "What if I can't ever really forgive him?"
"Then you let go," she said.
Kylie remembered how she'd hugged her father when he'd come to see her and told her he was sorry. While it had been hard, even painful, hugging him had felt right. She wasn't ready to let go of what they'd had. It would hurt too much.
Even more than accepting the truth.
She couldn't help wondering if that was how one made the decision to forgive or not. If letting go hurt more than accepting someone's mistakes. She could only hope that in time, accepting would come easier for her.
"Are you going to e-mail and tell him to come up for Parents Day?"