Caleb ordered me to appear before him to inspect whatever change he had heard rumblings of and I dutifully obeyed, though this time I'm pretty sure he knew that PJ was standing on the other side of the kitchen door with his hand on the lever. Some days are like that.
I stepped out into the heavy wet snowfall in unzipped Docs and a long black sweater with my leggings making my legs little splindly black toothpicks and figured Caleb would harp on my outfit first but no. He knew damn well I have red hair now because I bet a million dollars and change that Loch told him two days ago.
What have you done. It's not a question, therefore I provide no answer. Your hair was such a beautiful color.
Like Jacob's.
No, like Bridget's. What is this, some effort to align yourself with Pyro for all the world to see? A cheap parlor trick if I ever saw one.
No, it was an effort to do something radical before the white takes over. I don't know if you've noticed but I'm getting old.
You will never get old in my eyes.
Always twelve, huh?
No, Princess. Always twenty-three and rolling around in money in Vegas, smiling and drinking champagne with me. Always turning every head in the room when you entered. Always concentrating, learning everything you could about mutual funds and capital gains in order to keep up. Always refusing to abandon my brother because you wanted to believe in him so badly. Where's the spitfire who does things her own way and stays stubborn?
She died when Cole died and Jake flew. I roll my eyes. This is not news.
No, she was silenced, choked off by the past she isn't allowed to forget because her fairweather boyfriend is so inadequate at helping her move on with her life.
What life? I have no life.
Exactly what I mean.
But you have to admit, I make a stunning redhead.
Yes, surprisingly enough I am completely taken aback at how incredible your eyes look now.
