Page 62 of Where We Began

“Potentially,” he says, hesitating.

I read between the lines. “Go. Talk. It's why we arranged this event, after all.”

Dominic separates from me. I watch him go, lamenting that I'm now going to have to make polite conversation alone.

It's a large crowd that only grows, and I notice a pattern quickly. The men are older, sometimes with multitudes of wrinkles and graying hair. There are a few younger guys, like Dominic, but not many. The women, however, areallyoung and beautiful. Their dresses sparkle, like their job is to be an expensive handbag for the men to wear on their arms.

It sickens me, and mingling becomes a chore.

“Ah, you must be her,” a voice says. I prepare my false smile, turning towards the speaker. He seems to be Silas's age. They don't look alike, but there's still something familiar about him that I can't place.

Black, piercing eyes focus on me. His hands are shoved in his jacket pockets. I get the odd feeling that he's resisting the urge to touch me—if it's to harm, or to show affection, I can't tell. I'm busy waiting for him to speak while being held in place by his burning stare.

He rakes his eyes down my face, to my long hair. “Did you know they call you the Wild Girl in our circle?”

“Excuse me,” I say, gathering myself. “I didn't catch your name.”

He hasn't blinked. It creates a grim energy, and the longer he looks at me, the more damage I recognize in his expression. Those furrows in his forehead are exaggerated by his widow's peak. I'm getting used to recognizing trauma. I wonder what his is.

I wet my lips, noticing they're dry. I wish he'd just blink. “How do you know the Bradleys?” I ask, trying to force conversation, or find a way to exit.

His attention doesn't leave me. “I'm Vahn, Annie's brother.”

I see it the second he spills her name. They share a similar shape to their chins, their hair the same reddish brown, like a fox's fur. My lips twitch, unable to hold my smile. Anyone associated with that woman is bad news. “Oh.”

“Yes,” he whispers.“Oh.”He sneers as he repeats me. “She's told me a little about you. The rest I learned myself.”

My pulse is racing. I wipe my clammy hands on my dress. “Did you need something from me?” I fight to keep my tone polite. If Vahn is Annie's brother, anything I do will get back to her. Any words I speak, any poor behavior.

Finally he breaks his stare, and I breathe a hair easier. He's glancing over my head at something. I'm tempted to look, but I control the urge. “No. I hope I never do. I just wanted to look you in the eye for myself, and see how similar you were.”

“Similar to who?” I ask, baffled.

He doesn't respond. Vahn pushes past me, acting like I'm as interesting as a coat rack. With him gone, my adrenaline hits me hard. My spine feels like a length of ice cubes strung through me, my dress sticks to my sweaty stomach.

Queasy, I hurry towards the sidelines. I fall into a chair and close my eyes. The darkness spins, so I quickly stare at the bright ceiling instead.What the hell was that about?

Dominic replaces my view of the chandeliers. He towers over me, his eyebrows knotted with concern. “Are you okay?” he asks. “You look pale.”

“I'm fine.” It's a white lie. I don't want him to worry about me. “Just... I met your uncle a minute ago.”

His nostrils flare. “You met Vahn?”

“Dominic, what's wrong?” I ask warily.

He keeps staring. “What did he tell you?”

“Nothing. Not really.” I run the conversation back through my mind. “He said he wanted to see if I was similar to someone. Do you know what that's about?”

Ignoring me, he obsessively scans the ballroom. I catch the ripple of pain that creates wrinkles in his forehead. His eyes are an oil slick, moving around, unable to rest on anyone or anything as he searches. Is he looking for his uncle right now, or someone else? “Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yes.” He snatches the last champagne flute off of a table, swallows it in one gulp. “I'll go get more—for both of us.” He wades through the packed crowd without giving me a chance to figure out what's got him so edgy. Left alone, I get to my feet. I don't want to leave without Dominic, especially if he's coming back with drinks. He'll expect me to be here. Looking for a way to kill time, I start studying the party-goers.

I make a game of counting the dress colors. Five red ones, ten blue... seven white. I'm enjoying this. It’s like bird watching, in a way. I'm happy to be doing something that keeps my mind busy.

The next dress I see is more interesting than the others. Transparent sheets with little crescent moons stitched in gold are draped over creamy silk that swallow the woman's legs. Heels that glitter like a thousand falling stars peek out beneath the hem. She's someone who doesn't care about movement, comfortable in her confinement.

I could never be that at ease. But I still admire her from behind, thinking she's a real beauty. Short, perfectly even hair tickles her earlobes. It's a glistening brunette cap on her head. I'm waiting for her to turn, painfully curious if her face could be as elegant as the rest of her.

---