she asked enthusiastically after breakfast. I lost my high about then. I knew where we needed to go next and I had avoided it till we just couldn’t anymore. “What are you thinking?” she asked as I smiled loving the idea of her able to read me if...then I remembered I couldn’t read her at the time. “I’m thinking about my mother,” I lied. “We have to go visit Pike,” I said after to cover my hidden weakness for not letting her see how my mother affected my every aspect of daily life. Grace wouldn’t understand the idea of an “unloving” mother. Her mother risked everything to keep her safe, not throw her willingly into danger for her own gains. I picked at the bread in front of me to forget I just lied to her since bringing her here. She loved the bread that I’d spent a lifetime hating simply because it was all that was provided half the time. To her, it was frews and warm and letting on her tongue. Her words, not mine. “Who?”
