Hotbloods (Hotbloods #1)

My parents. My real parents.

My stomach twisted into knots at the sight of them, and a wave of sickness surged up in my throat. I took a step back, bumping into Navan and Jean who were right behind me, and I felt Jean’s hand squeeze my shoulder, her guard immediately up when she realized who it was.

“Sasha, George. Can…Can I help you?” she asked.

Their eyes flickered over Navan with some confusion and they barely even looked at Jean, before their eyes zoned in on me.

My mother wore a white and blue floral summer dress which clung to her bony frame in a most unflattering way. Her blue eyes looked bloodshot, her face pale and sagging, and her wispy gray hair was tied up in a limp ponytail. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen her in a dress, and the irregularity disturbed me, as I realized this was probably her way of dressing up to see me. My father wore his usual attire—a pair of jeans one size too big for him, and a loose, crinkled shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows in the heat. His mustached face was as ragged as my mother’s, his hair balding at the crown of his head.

Why were they here? How did they know to come?

“We wanted to check in to see that Riley was definitely okay,” my mother said, her voice like nails grating against cement.

Jean shuffled next to me and gave them a forced smile. “Excuse us for a minute.” She didn’t give them a chance to respond as she gripped my hand and pulled me back into the house, pushing the door until it was mostly closed, so that we could have a somewhat private conversation.

“How are they here?” I whispered.

Jean gave me an apologetic look. “By coincidence, they called me last night—before you called to tell me you were okay. Your mother called wanting to verify the date of your return from Texas and, well, I was feeling extremely worried about your absence and it seemed only right for me to mention that you had gone missing from Elmcreek. Then you called me, so I called her back after I spoke to you just to let her know you had been located and were fine, and would even be stopping by to see me today at noon. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have told her the time—it slipped my mind, but I honestly didn’t expect them to show up uninvited like this.” She paused, sucking in a breath. “Look, you don’t have to deal with them. I can simply tell them you’re not ready for this—”

She trailed off as I slowly shook my head. As unpleasant a surprise as this was, something told me that I couldn’t keep running forever, that I had to get this over and done with. They had been trying to see me for weeks, and they were here now, right on my doorstep. I had to find some kind of closure with them, for my own sake more than theirs, no matter how painful it might be.

I met Navan’s eyes briefly as I turned around, and I couldn’t help but note the concern there. I shook the thought aside as I pulled open the door again and reemerged on the doorstep.

They stood there on the lower step, gazing up at me with expectant eyes, my mother especially. Her expression was so wide eyed with anticipation, it made me feel raw inside.

I steeled myself against it, and met their gaze head on.

“Mom, Dad,” I said, the terms spilling coldly from my tongue. “How can I help you?”

“Oh, don’t be so formal, Riley,” my mother chided in her scratchy voice. She reached out to squeeze my arm, but I flinched. I was willing to talk to them, but that was going one step too far.

My mother looked crestfallen, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel much sympathy.

“But we have good news,” she said. “And we wanted to tell you in person.”

“What?” I asked warily.

My birth parents exchanged a glance. “We’ve been saved.”

“Excuse me?” I said.

“Saved?” Navan asked from behind me.

They both nodded vehemently. “There’s this church we go by almost every day,” my father said. “Always walked by it, barely even noticed it, if you want to know the truth.”

“It does have the most beautiful stained glass,” my mother said. “I did always notice that.”

“Right, well, aside from the stained glass then. Other than that, it was just this structure that we walked by. Until recently, your mother and I were going by and we both felt pulled to go in there. Just felt that it was what we had to do. So we went right in, and we sat in one of the pews. We just sat there for quite some time, and we were both filled with . . . with . . . well, I don’t really know how to describe it. We were both filled—”

“With the love of God,” my mother interjected. “And that has changed everything.”

“We’ve realized the true error of our ways.”

“We want to repent for everything that we’ve done.”

“We have found our way back to the path of righteousness.”

I stared at them, my mouth hanging open.

“George, Sasha,” Jean said. “That’s . . . that’s wonderful news.”

“I know we shouldn’t have just stopped over like this,” my mother said. “But we wanted to share our news with you in person, Riley.”

“Did you like the birthday gift?” my father asked.

“I-I… I haven’t opened it yet.”

They both sighed. “Riley,” my mother said. “What we’ve been trying to communicate to you is that we are sorry. We are truly sorry for everything and if we could go back in time, we would take it all back. We would treat you the way…”— here her voice cracked—“the way a beautiful little girl like you deserved to be treated.”

I glanced away, a muscle in my jaw throbbing as I tried to maintain a stoic expression. “Okay,” I said. “Is that all you wanted to say? Aside from this good news of your newfound belief in God?”

“We have something for you.”

My father’s hand dipped into the plastic bag he was carrying, and drew out an envelope. I glanced at it, suspicious and hesitant, immediately assuming that it was going to be more stupid photographs. I took the envelope and turned it over, realizing that it was too light to be photos. It couldn’t hold more than a thin piece of paper…

“It’s… a little something to help you along with your college,” my mother explained, looking at me through her rheumy, doleful eyes. “We saved up, and I know it’s not much but we hope it’ll be helpful.”

As soon as it hit me that they’d handed me a check, my instinct was to drop it. No, I realized. I wasn’t ready for this. Photographs were one thing, money was entirely another.

I pressed the envelope back into my father’s hands.

“I appreciate it,” I said, “but you can keep it.”