Page 17 of The Temptation of Truth
“Yeah.”
“Not your parents?”
She arches a playful brow. “We getting personal already, Aurora?”
My eyes widen before I whip them back to my lap. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to?—”
“It’s fine. I’m kidding. No apologies necessary.” She bumps my shoulder with hers. “I wasn’t raised by my parents. I grew up in the system.”
The system.
Foster care.
“Oh. That’s nice.” When she laughs, I cringe. “I didn’t mean nice. I meant...Fine...Good? I don’t know. I’m sor—” I catch myself before I apologizeagainand blow out a slow breath,willing the fuzz in my head to clear. “I’m not usually like this. I’m overwhelmed and tired, and the seats on the bus I took to Los Angeles made my neck sore, so I have a bit of a headache. And I think I’m hungry. And I’m overwhelmed. And tired. And, well, it’s all making me more awkward than normal.”
Not to mention her proximity and all the weird thingsthatseems to be doing to me, too.
“Understandable. Luckily, these seats are much more comfortable than a bus, and they recline into beds.” Mabel stands and steps into the aisle. “Get some rest. If you need anything, just ask. I’m right behind you.”
She gives me one last smile, and then she disappears. When I take my first full breath since she sat down, I notice a floral scent lingering in her absence. I don’t know how I missed it before.Gardenia. I inhale again, deeper this time, filling my lungs with the familiar scent. Gardenias love the Mediterranean climate out here, but they can be temperamental. They need specific conditions to thrive, so they’re one of my favorite plants to grow. Every bloom feels like a reward.
My eyes fall to my orchid, and my stomach does another little flip. There are no blooms, but Mabel still knew what it was.
I know a bit about orchids.
My lips fight to curve into a small, strange smile. I shift in my seat. She didn’t interrupt me when I started to ramble, either. And her touch was soft. Her skin was warm. She called me babe. She was so...so...
“Here.”
I jump with a gasp, and Mabel laughs, holding something out to me.
“I didn’t mean to scare you. I brought you these since meal service isn’t for another hour.”
I focus my attention on her outstretched hand. “Shortbread cookies?”
“Do you not like shortbread?”
“No, I do. Sorr?—”
She arches her eyebrow again, halting the word before I can finish saying it. I bite my tongue, then fold my lips between my teeth before altering my response.
“I do like shortbread.”
“Much better,” she teases, then wiggles the package.
“Thank you.”
I take the cookies, and when I look back to her face, that curious smile is back, and her caramel eyes sparkle in the soft cabin lighting. They look like amber gemstones. When my skin starts to tingle, I look away.
“You’re welcome,” she says finally. “There should be a blanket and pillow under the seat if you’d like to sleep.”
Then she leaves me once again.
My exhale is audible as I drop my head back to my seat. I need to get it together before I make a fool of myself. I have no idea what’s going on in my head, but whatever it is, it feels too obvious.
I stare at the ceiling for several breaths before I’m ready to move again. Gently, I place my orchid in the seat beside me, and then I open the cookies. They’re just cookies, but for some reason, that weird smile returns as I bring one to my mouth. I take a bite, the corners of my lips twitching with the need to grin wider, and I let out a quiet laugh.
My anxiety is nearly gone, but the nerves swirling in my stomach persist. They feel different, though. Now they almost tickle instead of ache.
