Beautiful Chaos
Page 39
It could be worse, Ethan. He could be on the couch.
Aunt Mercy was sulking in her wheelchair in front of the television, clearly agitated she’d lost this morning’s battle over the couch. My dad was sitting next to her, reading the paper. “How are you kids doing today? It’s nice to see you, Lena.” His expression said, Get out while you can.
Lena smiled at him. “You, too, Mr. Wate.”
He had been taking a day off here and there when he could, to keep Amma from losing her mind.
Aunt Mercy was gripping the remote, even though the television wasn’t on, and waved it at me. “Where do you two lovebirds think you’re off ta?”
Head for the stairs, L.
“Ethan, don’t tell me you’re thinkin’ a takin’ a young lady upstairs. That wouldn’t be proper.” Aunt Mercy clicked the remote at me, as if she could put me on pause before I made it to my room. She looked over at Lena. “You keep your cute little fanny out a boys’ rooms, Chickadee.”
“Mercy Lynne!”
“Grace Ann!”
“I don’t want ta hear that kinda dirty talk comin’ from you.”
“What, fanny? Fanny fanny fanny!”
Ethan! Get me out of here.
Don’t stop.
Aunt Grace sniffed. “’Course he’s not takin’ her upstairs. His daddy would roll over in his grave.”
“I’m right here.” My dad waved at her.
“His mamma,” Aunt Mercy corrected.
Aunt Grace waved her handkerchief, the one that was permanently glued to the inside of her curled hand. “Mercy Lynne, you must be goin’ senile. That’s what I said.”
“You most certainly did not. I heard you clear as a bell, with my good ear. You said his daddy’d be—”
Aunt Grace tossed the afghan aside. “You couldn’t hear a bell if it crept up behind you and bit you in the sweet—”
“Sweet tea, ladies?” Amma appeared with a tray, just in time. Lena and I snuck up the stairs while Amma blocked the view from the living room. There was no getting past the Sisters, even without Aunt Prue. And there hadn’t been for days now. Between getting them settled in our house, and getting everything that was left out of theirs, my dad and Amma and I had been doing nothing but waiting on them hand and foot since they moved in.
Lena disappeared into my room, and I closed the door behind me. I slid my arms around her waist, and she leaned her head against me.
I’ve missed you.
I know. Chickadee.
She punched me playfully.
“Don’t you close that door, Ethan Wate!” I couldn’t tell if the voice was Aunt Grace’s or Aunt Mercy’s, but it didn’t matter. On this point they were in perfect agreement. “There’re more chickens than people in this world, an’ that sure as summer ain’t no accident!”
Lena smiled and reached behind me, pushing the door back open.
I groaned. “Don’t do that.”
Lena touched my lip. “When’s the last time the Sisters walked up the stairs?”
I leaned closer to her, our foreheads touching. My pulse started racing the second we touched. “Now that you mention it, Amma’s going to be pouring sweet tea until that pitcher runs dry.”
I picked Lena up and carried her over to my bed, which was really just a mattress on my floor now, thanks to Link. I dropped down next to her, purposely ignoring my broken window, my open door, or what was left of my bed.
It was just the two of us. She stared back up at me, one green eye and one gold, black curls splayed out on the mattress around her, like a black halo. “I love you, Ethan Wate.”
I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at her. “I’ve been told I’m very lovable.”
Lena laughed. “Who told you that?”
“Lots of girls.”
Her eyes clouded over for a second. “Yeah? Like?”
“My mom. My Aunt Caroline. And Amma.” I poked her in the ribs, and she started to squirm, giggling into my shirt. “I love you, L.”
“You better. Because I don’t know what I would do without you.” Her voice was raw and as honest as I’d ever heard it.
“There’s no me without you, Lena.” I leaned down and kissed her, lowering myself until my body fit perfectly against hers, like they were made to be together. Because we were—no matter what the universe or my pulse had to say about it. I could feel the energy seeping from me, but it only made my mouth seek out hers again.
Lena pulled away before my heart began to pound dangerously. “I think we’d better stop, Ethan.”
I sighed and rolled onto my back next to her, my hand still tangled in her hair. “We didn’t even get started.”
“Until we figure out why it’s getting worse—more intense between us—we have to be careful.”
I grabbed for her waist. “What if I said I don’t care?”
“Don’t say that. You know I’m right. I don’t want to accidentally set you on fire, too.”
“I don’t know. Still might be worth it.”
She punched me in the arm, and I smiled up at the ceiling. I knew she was right. The only people who still seemed in control of their powers were the Incubuses. Ravenwood was a mess, and so was everyone in it.
But that didn’t make it any better. I needed to touch her, like I needed to breathe.
I heard a meow. Lucille was kneading the bottom of my mattress. Ever since she lost her bed to Harlon James IV, she had taken over mine. My dad had rushed back from Charleston the night of the so-called twister, and he’d found Aunt Prue’s dog the next day, cowering in a corner of the kindergarten yard. Once Harlon James arrived at our house, he wasn’t much different from the Sisters. He made himself right at home in Lucille’s bed. Eating Lucille’s chicken dinners off her china plate. Even scratching Lucille’s cat post.
Aunt Mercy was sulking in her wheelchair in front of the television, clearly agitated she’d lost this morning’s battle over the couch. My dad was sitting next to her, reading the paper. “How are you kids doing today? It’s nice to see you, Lena.” His expression said, Get out while you can.
Lena smiled at him. “You, too, Mr. Wate.”
He had been taking a day off here and there when he could, to keep Amma from losing her mind.
Aunt Mercy was gripping the remote, even though the television wasn’t on, and waved it at me. “Where do you two lovebirds think you’re off ta?”
Head for the stairs, L.
“Ethan, don’t tell me you’re thinkin’ a takin’ a young lady upstairs. That wouldn’t be proper.” Aunt Mercy clicked the remote at me, as if she could put me on pause before I made it to my room. She looked over at Lena. “You keep your cute little fanny out a boys’ rooms, Chickadee.”
“Mercy Lynne!”
“Grace Ann!”
“I don’t want ta hear that kinda dirty talk comin’ from you.”
“What, fanny? Fanny fanny fanny!”
Ethan! Get me out of here.
Don’t stop.
Aunt Grace sniffed. “’Course he’s not takin’ her upstairs. His daddy would roll over in his grave.”
“I’m right here.” My dad waved at her.
“His mamma,” Aunt Mercy corrected.
Aunt Grace waved her handkerchief, the one that was permanently glued to the inside of her curled hand. “Mercy Lynne, you must be goin’ senile. That’s what I said.”
“You most certainly did not. I heard you clear as a bell, with my good ear. You said his daddy’d be—”
Aunt Grace tossed the afghan aside. “You couldn’t hear a bell if it crept up behind you and bit you in the sweet—”
“Sweet tea, ladies?” Amma appeared with a tray, just in time. Lena and I snuck up the stairs while Amma blocked the view from the living room. There was no getting past the Sisters, even without Aunt Prue. And there hadn’t been for days now. Between getting them settled in our house, and getting everything that was left out of theirs, my dad and Amma and I had been doing nothing but waiting on them hand and foot since they moved in.
Lena disappeared into my room, and I closed the door behind me. I slid my arms around her waist, and she leaned her head against me.
I’ve missed you.
I know. Chickadee.
She punched me playfully.
“Don’t you close that door, Ethan Wate!” I couldn’t tell if the voice was Aunt Grace’s or Aunt Mercy’s, but it didn’t matter. On this point they were in perfect agreement. “There’re more chickens than people in this world, an’ that sure as summer ain’t no accident!”
Lena smiled and reached behind me, pushing the door back open.
I groaned. “Don’t do that.”
Lena touched my lip. “When’s the last time the Sisters walked up the stairs?”
I leaned closer to her, our foreheads touching. My pulse started racing the second we touched. “Now that you mention it, Amma’s going to be pouring sweet tea until that pitcher runs dry.”
I picked Lena up and carried her over to my bed, which was really just a mattress on my floor now, thanks to Link. I dropped down next to her, purposely ignoring my broken window, my open door, or what was left of my bed.
It was just the two of us. She stared back up at me, one green eye and one gold, black curls splayed out on the mattress around her, like a black halo. “I love you, Ethan Wate.”
I propped myself up on my elbow and looked down at her. “I’ve been told I’m very lovable.”
Lena laughed. “Who told you that?”
“Lots of girls.”
Her eyes clouded over for a second. “Yeah? Like?”
“My mom. My Aunt Caroline. And Amma.” I poked her in the ribs, and she started to squirm, giggling into my shirt. “I love you, L.”
“You better. Because I don’t know what I would do without you.” Her voice was raw and as honest as I’d ever heard it.
“There’s no me without you, Lena.” I leaned down and kissed her, lowering myself until my body fit perfectly against hers, like they were made to be together. Because we were—no matter what the universe or my pulse had to say about it. I could feel the energy seeping from me, but it only made my mouth seek out hers again.
Lena pulled away before my heart began to pound dangerously. “I think we’d better stop, Ethan.”
I sighed and rolled onto my back next to her, my hand still tangled in her hair. “We didn’t even get started.”
“Until we figure out why it’s getting worse—more intense between us—we have to be careful.”
I grabbed for her waist. “What if I said I don’t care?”
“Don’t say that. You know I’m right. I don’t want to accidentally set you on fire, too.”
“I don’t know. Still might be worth it.”
She punched me in the arm, and I smiled up at the ceiling. I knew she was right. The only people who still seemed in control of their powers were the Incubuses. Ravenwood was a mess, and so was everyone in it.
But that didn’t make it any better. I needed to touch her, like I needed to breathe.
I heard a meow. Lucille was kneading the bottom of my mattress. Ever since she lost her bed to Harlon James IV, she had taken over mine. My dad had rushed back from Charleston the night of the so-called twister, and he’d found Aunt Prue’s dog the next day, cowering in a corner of the kindergarten yard. Once Harlon James arrived at our house, he wasn’t much different from the Sisters. He made himself right at home in Lucille’s bed. Eating Lucille’s chicken dinners off her china plate. Even scratching Lucille’s cat post.
