Immortal City (Immortal City 1)

“Yes!” Maddy exclaimed. “God, I hate that one.”

Ethan shook his head. “I wanted to respond, ‘Trying to figure out what to write for this essay.’” Ethan laughed, and Maddy joined in. She was feeling much more at ease.

“Wow, I had no idea you cared about college, Ethan,” Maddy said.

“You assumed I wasn’t smart?” Ethan looked mock-insulted.

Maddy blanched and backpedaled. “I’ve never seen you in the school library is all.” Ethan’s eyes flashed, mischievous.

“Well, can you keep a secret?”

He pulled out his key chain and jingled it.

“I kind of wanted to study on my own hours, and besides, I prefer being in there by myself without Mr. Rankin to pester me.”

Maddy’s mouth fell open.

“You have keys to the school?”

“Sure. Mrs. Neilson left them lying on her desk one day, so I . . . borrowed them.”

“You stole them,” Maddy said in disbelief. Ethan shrugged, and Maddy was surprised to find herself smiling.

“I copied them. I gave them back, promise. If you ever need to use them, just let me know.”

Of course it was wrong to steal the keys . . . but it was also resourceful. And bold. There was something about it she liked. It felt like a New Maddy thing to do.

“Careful what you say,” she said at last. “I might actually take you up on that.”

Maddy watched Ethan as he laughed. A part of her had always found him attractive, but maybe not as attractive as she was finding him now. Her eyes searched his full lips, his high cheekbones, his hazel eyes. A silent moment passed between them. Almost intuitively, he reached over and took her hand. His felt rough and calloused, but also warm.

As much as she tried to block it, the memory came. The memory of Jacks’s touch in the back office of the diner, and the electricity that had passed between them. She pushed the thought desperately away as Ethan turned toward her. They were face-to-face on the couch now. His eyes were doing that thing again. Asking a question. A question she thought she knew the answer to.

“Actually, can I use your bathroom?” Maddy blurted suddenly. “I just need to . . . I’ll be back in a second.”

“Yeah, of course,” Ethan said, looking a little surprised. He pointed. “Go down the hall and make two rights.”

Maddy got up, set her soda on the glass table, and nearly ran. After a couple wrong turns she found the bathroom. It smelled pleasantly of coconut. Maddy stood there, breathing hard, looking at her reflection in the mirror. At this point, she nearly despised that face.

“You’re such a coward, Maddy,” she mumbled as she turned on the faucet and splashed some water on her face. If she was being honest with herself, though, she knew it had nothing to do with courage. Or even with Ethan. She grabbed a hand towel and dried off. Her heart was still pounding, and she rubbed a hand on her chest to calm it. She had made a promise to herself—a promise to start fresh. Her fingers inched up and touched her mother’s necklace. The past was the past. She looked at herself again with renewed determination. “You can do this, Maddy,” she whispered. She switched off the light and headed out.

The house was large and easy to get turned around in, and soon Maddy was sure she was lost. She went down a long, bare hallway and ended up at the back of the house, facing two doors she thought were probably bedrooms. Great, she thought, and was just turning around when something caught her eye. The door on her right stood slightly ajar, and inside, she could just make out something in the middle of the floor.

“Hello?” she asked.

No response. Her curiosity piqued, she went to the door and pushed it open a little farther. It was a bedroom, but clearly not the master. Maybe it was a guest room. A cardboard moving box sat in the center of the floor. The box was open, and she could just make out the glint of light off a stack of picture frames.

So that’s where all the pictures are, she thought, a little amused. She stepped inside the room and went to the box.

The photos were crowded together and stacked on top of each other. Maddy picked one up. It was a picture of a man in his early forties, standing with a young boy who looked like Ethan. The man must be Ethan’s father, she thought. They were in a backyard, next to a smoking barbecue. The man had a spatula in his hand. Maddy picked up another picture. A slightly older Ethan playing football with his dad at the beach. She fingered through the rest of the photos. They were all of Ethan and his father, until she reached the last frame, which was blank.

“Maddy?” a questioning voice asked from just over her shoulder. Maddy nearly shrieked as she swiveled and saw Ethan standing right behind her. He looked down at the photo in her hand.

“You scared me, I—” Maddy could feel the hot blood rushing into her cheeks. She had been snooping around and got caught. “I got lost coming back from the bathroom and thought you might be in here. Then I saw the pictures . . . I’m really sorry.” She had started to put the picture back in the box when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Here,” Ethan said, reaching forward. He didn’t seem angry or upset at all. Maddy turned slowly to face him and handed him the picture. His eyes grew distant as he looked at it. A sad smile passed across his face as though he were witnessing a fleeting memory. Finally, he spoke.

“My dad.”