Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

mother in a similar state.”
The sentence burns as it slaps across my face, worse than if he’d just
killed me on the spot. At least the pain would likely be over soon. “Well,
lucky for you, she cut out the middleman and did it for you. Solved that
dilemma real quick, didn’t it?”
My free hand claws at the front door, turning the knob and wrenching it
open. Yanking on my arm again, I glare up at him.
“Let go of me.”
His gaze sears straight through me, skipping my heart altogether and
igniting my soul on fire. But not the good kind of fire, that grazes your skin
and fills you with warmth. It’s the kind that singes and steals, destruction in
the form of flames.
“I can’t,” he grits, although his fingers retract at the same time, reaching
up to card through his hair. “Jesus, Elena, just give me five minutes.”
Part of me wants to; aches to stay back and hear what he has to say, but
the anger pulsing through me takes precedence, wanting him to suffer.
“I can’t,” I repeat. Ari floats down the staircase, half her face decorated in
sparkly foundation and gold makeup, completely oblivious to everything
that’s just happened. I catch her as she starts to slip out the other side of the
door, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to the recital already?”
She nods. “We always rehearse a few of the trickier numbers before the
show.” Peering up at Kal, she purses her lips, then looks back to me. “Want
to come with?”
Nodding, I follow her out to the car sitting idle at the curb, Lorenzo
behind the wheel. And when I climb in the back, chancing a single glance
over my shoulder, I see Kal still standing in the doorway, frozen in place like
a statue.
When we drive away, I let my sobs choke free; Ari scoots closer, letting
me cry on her shoulder even though she doesn’t seem to know what’s going
on.
I always wondered what would happen if I bled wide open, and he wasn’t
there to blot it up with his tongue or fingers or first aid kit.
Guess now I have my answer.