Burning Emerald Read Online Free PDF Page B

Mom.”
    â€œBaby, you need to handle your grief properly. I can only imagine what you’re going through. You won’t even enter the living room by yourself. You barely talk about Nadine and you’ve become detached.”
    I paused. “Have not.”
    â€œSamara, your father and I are worried about you, and you can only hide so much from that man.” She quirked a brow.
    Mom had a point. Though ignorant of Lilith’s existence, Dad wasn’t stupid, and it was damn near impossible to lie to a lawyer. Mr. Watkins called more often now, laying guilt trips on me for not coming around. My visits were a test of endurance since listing Caleb’s many flaws became his favorite topic at dinner. In Dad’s book, no one was good enough for his baby girl, especially the son of a killer. So no, baring my soul to certain members of my family was not a good idea right now.
    â€œHave you talked to Caleb about this? It’s not healthy to have all this bottled up inside.”
    â€œIt’s pretty hard to find ‘quality time’ with the LoJack I got strapped to my arm.” I looked down at my wrist and snarled.
    Like Lilith, this trinket had also belonged to Nadine, and it was one of the most stylish and unassuming tracking devices on the planet. Only after it had been placed in my care had I learned that it could never unlock once it was fastened. Waterproof and flame retardant, the tiny chip embedded inside the nameplate monitored the wearer’s location and sent updates to the software on Mom’s hard drive. This heirloom had been passed down to me as a form of protection, but now held the weight of iron shackles. The bracelet’s outrageous retail value kept it from meeting the fate of a bolt cutter.
    I tried to reason, though I knew it was a lost cause. “Angie told me that you two were discussing my relationship with Caleb. Why is it such a big deal? We have to see each other; we feed from one another for energy. I’m not going to skank out or anything.”
    â€œShe said that your body chemistry will change more than usual during the adolescent phase. I’ve seen how you get when you don’t feed. I can only imagine what might happen with other cravings, and I’m not trying to be a thirty-four-year-old grandmother.”
    I lifted my head to the ceiling. “Where is the trust in this house?”
    â€œIt’s not you I don’t trust, baby. It’s your roommate—as you call it—that needs to be chaperoned. Which means that outside of work, you’re not allowed to see Caleb without supervision. I’m not budging on this, so you can save your breath.” Mom replaced her specs and returned to the solace of her laptop.
    At that point, this meeting of the minds was over. I snatched my bag and left the kitchen. This broken record kept playing over and over, and I had grown sick of the song. First Dad, and now Mom sung backup to the tired tune. At least it had gotten her off the subject of therapy, a topic that slipped into our conversations a lot these days.
    On my way to the stairs, I tried not to look at the living room, but its presence seemed to burn at my peripheral, soliciting one peek, one moment of my time. I snuck a glance at the small area and cursed at my own weakness.
    The layout was different, a cheery arrangement of floral prints, cushions, throw rugs, and fake plants tucked in corners. The sofa had been moved a foot or two closer to the center of the room, grouped by the love seat, glass coffee table, and high-back chair. The walls were painted in a pale, cake-batter yellow trimmed with white molding. Carefully selected photographs crowded the wall unit and marble fireplace that we never used. But no amount of remodeling could erase the image of Nadine’s body sprawled on the floor.
    As Angie had once said, “once seen it can’t be unseen,” and that truth breathed life into this phantom, giving it