“Don’t try to change the subject. I get it. You like Solana.”
“I do like Solana. She seems like a very nice girl, and I wanted to do something to thank her for staying up all night to help you sleep. I’ve been so worried about you, honey.”
She reaches up and brushes my damp hair out of my eyes, and I notice she has a deep crease pressed between her brows.
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“Are you? Because all I see is you racing off on secret missions and being dragged home unconscious.”
She’s right. That pretty much sums up my last few weeks.
My mom sighs. “I know you didn’t ask for any of this and I know you’re trying to be careful. But I also just want to make sure you’re happy.”
“I am.”
My mom puts bacon she’s been frying on a paper towel to drain. “Can I ask you something?”
I grab a slice and take a bite. “Maybe.”
She doesn’t look at me, focusing on the waffle batter she’s stirring when she asks, “Where’s Audra?”
“I’ve told you I don’t know.”
“I know. But . . . don’t you think you should know—if she means as much to you as I think she does—”
I shush her, glancing down the hall to make sure my parents’ bathroom door is still closed. It is. And I can hear the sink running, so I doubt Solana can hear. But still.
The Gales know my mom knows about Audra. I told them we used the girlfriend thing as a cover and that my mom still doesn’t realize it was an act. I’m pretty sure they bought it. But the last thing I need is to give Solana another reason to feel jealous.
“I just think it says something that she’s not back yet,” my mom says quietly. “And I’d hate you to pass up something that could be great just because you have your heart set on something that might already be over.”
“It’s not over,” I snap.
It’s not.
“And what do you mean, ‘pass up’? What do you know?”
“Nothing,” she insists. But her cheeks are too flushed and her voice is too squeaky.
“The Gales told you, didn’t they?”
I never told my parents about the betrothal—why would I? I ended it. But I always figured my mom would freak if she knew—get all ragey and protective and you can’t control my son! But apparently . . .
“Unbelievable. You talk to her for one night and suddenly you’re Team Solana?”
She spins around to face me. “I’m Team Vane. All I want is to see you smile again. But every day I watch you look more tired and stressed—and I know a big part of that is because she left. And I hate that. I hate seeing her hurt you.”
“She isn’t.”
We both know it’s a lie. But she goes back to making waffles.
A few minutes later Solana enters the room with dripping wet hair and the world’s skimpiest white dress. I think a tube sock might have covered her more—and I grin when I see my mom’s jaw drop.
How you liking Team Solana now?
Solana tugs at the thin fabric, pulling it a fraction of an inch down her suntanned thigh. “It’s because of my gift.”
“What?” my mom and I both ask at the same time.
Solana gestures to her skimpy dress, and I have to force my eyes to not linger.
Again, why does she have to be hot?
“My body can store the wind if I let it. Sort of like a cache. And the Gales think it will help in the next battle, giving them an arsenal the Stormers can’t destroy, so I’m trying to gather as much as I can. Which means I need to have as much of my skin exposed as possible.”
I’m not sure what freaks my mom out more. The idea that wind is swirling around under Solana’s skin or talk of another battle.
Whatever it is, all she does is clear her throat and say, “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Solana mumbles, tucking her hair behind her ear and glancing at me.
I look away.
My mom pulls the first sugarwaffle out of the iron and puts it on a plate. “So how do you like your waffles, Solana?”
“Oh, um.” Solana stares at her feet. “I can’t eat anything either.” My mom’s smile fades and it’s hard not to smirk at her. Strike two for Solana.
“I’ll take everything on mine,” I tell my mom, sitting down at the table.
Solana fidgets for a second before she takes a seat across from me, and my mom says nothing as she hands me a plate heaped with so many berries and so much whipped cream I can barely see the waffle—exactly how I like it.
“I thought the not-eating thing was only for guardians?” I ask Solana before taking an enormous bite. It’s even better than I remember. Sweet and crunchy, but somehow melty like butter, too.
Solana stares hungrily at my waffle. “It is. But anything I eat takes up space that could hold more energy. And right now the Gales need all the extra wind we can get.”
“I guess,” I say, wondering what it feels like for her to have the wind constantly swirling inside her. “But couldn’t you—”