Page 126 of Poison Aches

Angel has indeed grown a spine, that’s true. But for what she’s about to do, that spine won’t do her any good unless it’s tempered the right way.

“Fine, let’s be frank,” I start, clearing my throat a bit. “You have been breaking all sorts of laws, hacking into systems, trying to track down your father, haven’t you?”

She stares at me with a bit of shock.

“I guess your brother assumes you’ve been looking for your mother,” I state, noticing the obvious.

At that, she looks away.

I already know the siblings had a fight.

“Not only that, but Spider refused to bank roll your pipe dreams. He thinks you’re going to NYC for your mother. Which means not only are you broke and stranded, you’re broke, alone, stranded, and in over your head.”

At this, Angel’s shoulders drop as if the weight of the world is suddenly too much for her.

“I didn’t mean to make Samuel angry. It’s just… I need to do this.”

“Then do it,” I tell her to which she finally looks at me head-on.

“Emmett, what do you want?”

“I want to help you.”

She pulls back and deadpans, “Excuse you?”

“I want to help you.”

“Wow,” she says slowly. “I thought The Twilight Zone was a thing of fiction. You’re telling me that after putting on an elaborate show of threatening me, all you want to do is help me?”

Yes. Because by helping you, I’m helping myself.

Angel studies me.

“What does ‘helping me’entail?” she questions curiously.

“And here I thought you wouldn’t ask,” I mutter, then reach behind me to the envelope I stashed there, then hand it over to Angel.

“What’s this?” She looks at me suspiciously as she moves to sit up straight on my lap.

“A reminder.”

“Of?”

“Open it.”

She eyes me, then opens the black envelope slowly, as if she’s expecting a bomb. I wait, watching her.

As she starts reading, her body goes rigid.

Her eyes widen.

Then she turns back to look at me, but her hair gets in her face, so I reach up and gently tuck the soft curls behind her ear.

This girl, her face, her eyes, her lips…everything about her is like a punch to the gut but here I am, willing to punish myself over and over again.

“Is this… is this…?” she stutters.

“Yes.”

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