“Well, Michael’s at home. He’s a master chef—at least he thinks he is. Really, he’s lousy in front of anything but an open flame, and even that’s iffy. He’s doing burgers. I hope that’s okay?”
Bex nodded. Her head was an absolute mess, the events of the last twenty-four hours humming in her brain like the whir of the plane’s engine. Since Tuesday, everything had been new. The first time she had dyed her hair. The first time she had cut it more than an inch. The first time she had been on a plane. The first time she ever had real hope that she could put her past behind her and never again be the Wife Collector’s daughter.
She swallowed hard when Denise aimed her car between the two huge, brick fences of the Kill Devil Hills beachfront neighborhood. Brush grass and trees lined the sidewalks, yawning into the night and softening the edges of the comfortable, cookie-cutter homes on either side of the street. Denise reached out and gingerly patted Bex’s knee. “Home, sweet home, hon. You ready?”
Bex didn’t know how to answer.
? ? ?
Denise was right. Michael wasn’t much of a cook, but he piled Bex’s burger with three kinds of cheese to make up for the half-charred puck of ground beef and talked relentlessly about the university where he worked as a professor of anthropology, and Bex kind of liked him. He was funny and animated, and by the time Bex’s burger was reduced to crumbs, she and Denise were holding their stomachs and wiping tears from their eyes.
When Bex’s eyes flicked to the clock on the stove—it was nearly nine by then—she realized that the last two hours of her new life had been just that: brand-new. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten a terrible burger, laughed so hard it hurt, and not ached inside, missing her grandmother. She couldn’t remember the last time she was this carefree, this happy.
“Can I help with the dishes?” Bex asked, standing.
Michael looked taken aback, his eyes going to Denise and then back to Bex. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”
Heat burned the tops of Bex’s ears and her chest tightened. “Tell me what?”
“You’re a teenager. You’re supposed to hate us, refuse to do anything, then stomp up the stairs screaming, ‘You’re ruining my life!’” He broke into a grin so wide it made his brown eyes crinkle at the corners. Denise swatted at him.
“Michael, leave her alone. It’s only her first night. She’ll have plenty of time to scorn your terrible dad jokes and be that teenager later. Come on, Bex. I know you must be exhausted. Let’s get you settled into your room, and we can deal with chores and school and all that boring stuff in the morning. Okay?”
Bex followed Denise up the stairs, hugging her purse to her chest. Michael had already dropped her luggage into a room right off the hall, and when Denise opened the door, Bex sucked in a sharp breath.
“This is for me?”
Denise nodded silently.
The bedroom was enormous—at least twice the size of the one at her grandmother’s house and a dozen times bigger than the four walls she shared with three other girls at the interim home. The walls were painted a soft green that matched the chevron stripes on the bedspread that matched the curtains fluttering lazily in the evening breeze. From where she stood, Bex could see that her room had its own bathroom, and the cool green continued there in fluffy towels and a funky pattern on the shower curtain.
“I hope it’s okay.”
Bex turned to Denise, who stood in the doorway, nervously wringing her hands.
“Are you kidding? It’s amazing. I didn’t expect—well, I didn’t know what to expect. I mean…”
Denise batted at the air. “It’s your home now, Bex. We just want you to be comfortable, to know that you belong here. We’re so happy to have you.” She avoided Bex’s eyes as she started opening drawers and showing off the enormous, empty closet. “You’re—you’re our daughter.” She looked up, her eyes soft, almost pleading. “We want you to be happy.”
Bex nodded, too choked up to answer.
“And if you hate the color, you can blame Michael.” Denise’s grin was big but shy. She paused in the doorway for an extra second, her teeth working her plump lower lip. “If you can’t sleep or if you just want to hang out, Michael and I will be up for a while watching TV. And eating ice cream. Kind of a nighttime ritual.” Denise turned and shot another smile, her blue eyes bright. She was tall and naturally slim, and even with her shy grin, she had an easy confidence and grace that Bex instantly admired. She looked at home in her skin.