Page 22 of Bewitched By the Djinn
“Yes,” he agrees, though his gaze lingers on me a moment too long.
I turn sharply on my heel. “Right. Food.”
Pull yourself together, woman.
One touch of his hand and a charged look and suddenly my brain cells run off and I can only speak in caveman sentences.
“I’ll get you some clothes.”
I head over to Mom and Dad’s room.
I’ve avoided this space for the better part of three years. Most of it is still exactly the way they left it. Mom’s favorite throw folded neatly on the chair by the window, Dad’s reading glassestucked beside the bed. There’s no dust. Mimi must be keeping it clean, like part of her believes they’ll walk through the door any day now.
The air smells like lavender and cedar. Familiar. It shoots me right in the chest.
I move quickly, avoiding their bed, their pictures, the memories. Straight to the closet. Jeans, shirt, an old pair of sweats, sneakers that look like they’ve barely been worn. I don’t think. I just grab and go.
I leave the clothes at the bathroom door before heading downstairs. My mind tries to take me back, to when my parents were here, to what they would do about this situation, but I shake the thoughts away. They aren’t here. They aren’t coming back. I’m on my own, and I need to figure this out myself.
We need to find his sister, and soon.
I reach the kitchen right as Mimi and Kevin are getting ready to leave.
“I’ll be back in a bit.” Mimi slings her purse over her shoulder.
Kevin frowns at his shoelaces, struggling with a stubborn knot. “Ugh, come on,” he mutters.
I crouch to help, making quick work of it before squeezing his shoulder. “All set, kiddo.”
“Thanks.” He straightens, grabbing his backpack from the floor. “Bye, Jackie!”
Jackie doesn’t even glance up from the table. “Bye.”
Mimi glances between us like she has more to say, but instead, she waves. “See you later.”
Then they’re gone.
Bennet strides into the kitchen, dressed in a white T-shirt and a pair of Dad’s jeans that are a couple inches too short. He should look ridiculous, but somehow he’s still hot.
Drat.
“Good morning, Miss Jackie.”
She lifts a hand from where she’s sitting at the table, idly pushing scrambled eggs around her plate with her fork. Her wrists are as delicate as bird wings, and her cheekbones are sharper than they should be.
My stomach tightens. She needs to eat, but I know better than to push too hard.
“Have a seat,” I tell Bennet, gesturing toward an empty chair before heading to the stove where the food is keeping warm. “Do you like pancakes?”
“Cakes?”
“Pancakes,” Jackie corrects. “They aren’t actual cake.”
His brow furrows. “I am not familiar with this pan-cake.”
Jackie lets out a soft laugh. “What do you eat in your world?”
Mimi must have given her some of the details of last night’s conversation. I grab a plate and fill it with a couple of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and leftover beans before setting it in front of him.
