Page 96 of Tar City
Oliver reappears, “Dessert, ma’am?”
“If the kids want,” she says, waving a dismissive hand.
“I’m good, thank you,” Sisk says, her voice polite.
My mother stands, “Forgive me, but I can feel the migraine creeping in. I’ll say goodnight here.”
Sisk watches her go, then turns back to my father. “Thank you for having me over.”
He nods. “Of course.”
I stand, pushing my chair back. “Walk with me?”
She rises and follows me out of the room.
We step out into the garden. The sprinklers are on, misting the trimmed hedges in slow arcs. Sisk wraps her arms around herself. “Well,” she says. “That went… better than expected.”
“Yeah,” I say, a little stunned. “Can’t believe it, actually. Thank you. You were… perfect.”
She glances around, her eyes taking in the perfectly manicured landscape. “A garden. In the middle of Tar City. I bet it costs a fortune to grow those roses.” She nods toward them, their dark petals glistening in the moonlight. “I hate that I find them beautiful.”
“Why?”
She looks at me. “Because the money it takes to keep those flowers alive could probably fix three houses on my street.” She raises an eyebrow like she’s expecting me to disagree but I don’t.
“Thank you, for doing this,” I tell her.
Her mouth softens. “All honesty? I came because I thought maybe it’d help clear your… problem with Ivan.” She stops, glancing at me. ”But…”
“But?”
She chews on her lip, a move that’s doing all kinds of things to my self-control. Then she just shrugs. “I mean… this whole pit thing…” Her voice turns cold, getting serious. “It’s just really hard to digest. The curses. The stains. The missing girl…”
We’re standing in the far corner now, half-hidden.
“What if…” she starts again. “I don’t know. We test it.”
I look at her, my pulse kicking up a notch. “Test it?”
She nods faintly, her eyes scanning mine like she’s looking for an answer. “There’s gotta be a way to know if it’s really real. Don’t you think?”
She moves close enough that I can feel the warmth of her breath between us, and it’s messing with my head.
“And if it is?” I ask.
She looks up at me. “Then I guess we stop pretending anything’s normal.”
The sprinkler rotates, sending a fine mist that brushes against her hair, and still, she doesn’t step back.
I reach out and grab her hand. “I’ll do it,” I say.
“Do what?”
“Whatever you want me to.” I move closer until there's barely any space left between us.
“Jax…” she whispers.
I take another step toward her and she takes two back, her retreat clumsy. Her arm brushes against the wild rose bush climbing the side of the house. She hisses, pulling back sharply.
