Mirage by Kristi Cook

into a grin. “Hell yeah. I could have competed, if I’d wanted to.” His smile disappeared at once. “But my dad … well, he was a fencer. Just missed making the Olympic team. It was pretty important to him that I follow in his footsteps.”
    “What happened to your dad? I don’t mean to pry,” I added quickly. “Feel free to tell me to shut up, if you want.”
    He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Nah, it’s okay. He had a dinner meeting with clients and was driving home after dark. A drunk driver crossed the center line and hit him head-on. They say he died instantly—blunt force trauma. Course, the stupid fucking drunk walked away without a scratch. On April Fool’s Day—can you believe that?”
    My throat felt tight, my windpipe constricted. “I hope he’s in jail—the guy who hit him, I mean,” I said, my voice tense.
    “Hasn’t been sentenced yet, but everyone thinks he’s going to walk. First-time offender and all that, just out of college. He shows up in court looking like some kind of altar boy.”
    I let out my breath in a rush. “That totally sucks.”
    His eyes looked hard, his jaw clenched. “Man, if I could just get my hands on him …” He trailed off, shaking his head. “I think that’s why my mom wanted to come east, to get me as far away as possible, just in case.”
    I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. “I lost my dad too,” I said at last. “Three years ago. He was … murdered. Executed, actually.”
    “Oh God, Violet. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
    “It’s okay—I don’t talk about it much. But I wanted you to know … well, that I understand what you’re going through. And it does get easier. At least a little bit.”
    “Do they know who did it?”
    I nodded. “It was in Afghanistan. Terrorists. He was a journalist, and they”—I swallowed hard—“they kidnapped him. There was a videotape, but I had already seen the whole thing. My visions,” I clarified. “I saw … everything .”
    “Fu-uck” was all he said, drawing it out to two syllables.
    “That about sums it up,” I said, refusing to let the images enter my mind. “Anyway, I just wanted you to know, that’s all. If you ever need to talk …”
    He reached for my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Thanks, Violet. I appreciate that.”
    I just nodded, pulling my hand from his grasp.
    “I guess we should get going, huh? You’ve got those big plans and all. With the boyfriend.”
    “Are you going to keep calling him that?” I asked with a sigh. “‘The boyfriend’?”
    He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Yeah, I thought I might.”
    I stood, brushing off the seat of my shorts. “You are so annoying.”
    “Just part of my charm,” he said with a wink, and then wrinkled his nose. “You really need to hit the shower. Trust me, the boyfriend will thank you.”
    I swung my bag at him, connecting with his arm.
    “Hey, it’s not my fault you stink.” He took a step back as I swung for him again and missed. “Okay, so you and Tinkerbell are spoken for. What about the rest of your little gang? Help me out here.”
    “Cece!” I said a little too excitedly, an idea forming in my head.
    He raked a hand through his damp hair, leaving it sticking up in all directions. “Which one is Cece?”
    “My roommate.” I reached for my bag and hoisted it onto my shoulder with a smile. “How do you feel about double dates?”
     
    I blinked hard, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark. “That went well, right?” I asked, lowering myself to the blankets on the floor of the chapel’s loft.
    I could hear Aidan digging out the candles he kept in a box in the far corner. He struck a match, and the small space filled with soft, flickering light. “If you say so,” he said.
    I scooted over as Aidan made his way back to the blanket and sat down beside me, draping one arm around me. I leaned into him, resting my head on his shoulder. “Well, it was going well till Todd walked