Flash Burned (Burned 2)

“Ari, sit,” my dad commanded in a stern tone uncharacteristic of him. I’d sufficiently freaked him out.

Because I was feeling rather drained, I collapsed on the sofa, curling against the pile of pillows in one corner. He brought my tea and I sipped as he spread the throw over my bare feet and legs. I wore the long nightgown and robe, so I didn’t feel much of a chill. I didn’t feel much of anything.

Kyle searched for the switch on the gas fireplace anyway. He found it, but before he flipped it on, I said, “No flames.”

This time, neither of them could call my reasoning crazy. They’d witnessed the mile-high flames at the Lux, too.

“I’m warm enough,” I assured them. “The tea helps. Thanks, Dad.”

“Sure.” He was back to that tentative voice. Not certain what to make of me. I’d never been the destructive type. That had been my mother’s role. Maybe I’d inherited some of her irrational, violent tendencies after all.

Though I didn’t feel irrational. I felt justified to be this hollow inside while I buried my rage, my pain.

“Are you hungry?” Kyle asked, also a bit hesitant.

“Not really.”

He gave me a slightly exasperated sigh. “You do have to eat, Ari. I mean, think of the—” He groaned, apparently not the least bit happy with where his train of thought led him. “Think of the baby.”

That was the ultimate in reticence.

“Don’t hate the innocent,” I snapped.

“I’m not a hater,” he insisted, his blue eyes clouding. “I’m thinking of the kid as much as I am of you.”

“Thank you.” I tried a smile, despite the sudden turmoil making my stomach twist at the mention of what grew inside it. My gaze narrowed and I asked, “Do you really cook?”

He scoffed. Leaving the room, I presumed he was off to explore the gourmet kitchen.

My dad sat on the couch with me, at my feet. “How do you feel?”

“Empty.” I sighed. “Which is weird, because I’m clearly not. There is actually another human being sharing this body.”

“Yes. There is.” He grinned the tiniest grin that almost warmed my cold heart.

“You’re a total sucker, aren’t you?” I asked.

“Well, it’s just that … I know how hard things were on you growing up. Because of your mother and me. And then at the end of this summer, suddenly—out of the blue—you were dating Dane, moving in with him, marrying him, and now you’re having his child. Not ideally…,” my father added, his logical side getting the best of him. “It’s really unfortunate the kid will never know—”

“God, more genetics,” I grumbled miserably. “Dane never knew his parents. They died a month after he was born. His aunt raised him.”

My dad grimaced. “Sometimes, it’s difficult to dislike him.”

“You did your best. He’s just sort of … infectious.” My eyes squeezed shut and I mumbled, “Was.”

“Ah, sweets.” He rested a hand on my leg, stroked soothingly. “I really am sorry.”

“I know.” I choked on a sob. “And I appreciate that. Just let me adjust on my own time, Dad. Don’t expect too much. Don’t expect anything.”

“I’d say yes to that, Ari, and let you hide under the covers for the next month, but…” He shifted on the cushion and pinned me with a serious look. “This isn’t just about you. It’s not even about your grief anymore. It’s about that baby you both conceived, which you are now committed to—for its sake, and for yours and Dane’s. He might not be here, sweets, but you know you have to be extremely careful, atten

tive, healthy, as though it were the best-case scenario. Just because it’s not … Well, that’s no reason to—”

“I hear you, Dad.” The tears spilled. “I understand. It’s just a little strange right now. I’m not hungry. I’m not … anything.” I rubbed my stomach. It was concave, not exactly a good thing. “I guess the problem is that I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel different. I don’t feel pregnant. I feel anesthetized. Which we both know isn’t a reality, since the doctor was so concerned about giving me too much by way of pain meds.”

My father grunted. “I wasn’t pleased about that.”

“I’m okay,” I was quick to say. Regardless of the stitches, the most poignant pain ripped through my heart.