Infinityglass (Hourglass 3)

We didn’t go in too deep, staying far away from the Fly, the side of the park next to the river. Even so, I could still smell the Mississippi. I knew Dune could, too. A keen edge of panic sneaked out from underneath his mask of cool every time the wind blew.

“Are you okay?” I asked, “with the water?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Subject changer.” I turned to face him. We hadn’t recapped the events of the night before, but I couldn’t stop thinking about his skin, his mouth, his hands.

“I am not. I just wanted to say what was on my mind.” He pulled me down to sit beside him on a bench.

“I hope you’re having the same thought I am,” I said.

“Which is?”

“More.”

He caught the back of my head in his hand and brought me in for a kiss. “Don’t give up yet.”

I nodded, and then a shadow blocked the sun. The afterglow disappeared in a flash.

“Hello, Mother.”

“Hallie.” She looked down her nose at Dune. “Who is this?”

“We’ve never officially met.” He stood to shake her hand, which she did, with disdain. It didn’t faze him. “I’m Dune Ta’ala.”

He put his arm around me when he sat back down, keeping his body forward, as close in front of me as he could be. His eyes had gone from sweet to wary, and the scar through his eyebrow became menacing instead of intriguing.

It was the first time I’d seen him use his physicality to intimidate, like a peacock fluffing up his plumes. It was ridiculously hot, and from the visible tension in my mother’s body, it worked.

“Does your father know about this?” Mother slid her sunglasses off and put them in her purse.

“Yes,” I answered, keeping my eyes on Dune.

“And what does he think about it?”

I shrugged. Let her wonder. If she’d been on the run, it had been somewhere that provided French manicures and root touch-ups. “You look good, but you always do. I see you’ve been shopping for jewelry, too. Why didn’t you call me? We could’ve made a day of it.”

She brushed her fingers just above the long, antique pendant that lay against her turtleneck sweater. “You’re almost eighteen, yet you show no signs of maturity.”

“You’re way past forty. Neither do you.”

“Nothing ever changes.” She sat down on the bench across from ours.

“No, it doesn’t. Probably never will. Why are you here?”

“To help my daughter.”

“Please. There are a million ulterior motives in everything you do.” I rubbed my temples. Oh, how this woman exhausted me.

“I’m here because of who you are.” She paused for effect. “What you are. How you got that way. Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I don’t need you for answers. I don’t need you for anything.” Her expression would have frozen a hot spring solid. In July. After a moment, all the chill melted away, and she smiled.

“Really?”

Cold dread swirled in the pit of my stomach. I knew that smile. She had something on me, something big. She didn’t seem eager to make me work for the information, which meant she could barely contain it.

That was scarier than a hundred rips coming for me at once.