A Fractured Light (Beautiful Dark)

pick me up for a date or something. I hoped he was in a better mood than he had been in this morning. Later I’d confront him about his conversation with Devin.
    Asher was standing on the porch, and when I opened the front door, he smiled down at me. There was a shyness in his eyes, a vulnerability that I still wasn’t used to. He was wearing a deep green sweater and brown corduroys, and held out a bouquet of flowers.
    “Don’t get your hopes up.” He smirked. “They’re for Aunt Jo.”
    “Did you dress up for me?” I asked, smiling widely as he walked in.
    “No.” He shook his head.
    “You did,” I said. “You totally dressed up.” With a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one was watching, he turned on me, taking my waist and drawing me close to him. I shivered. He leaned in as if to kiss me but instead moved his head to the side and whispered in my ear.
    “I should probably say hi to everyone else.”
    I knew for a fact that I was turning red, and the room was growing warmer. Asher laughed. It seemed like no matter how good I was becoming at controlling my powers, he could still swoop in and ruin all of my progress with a single touch.
    “Guys?” Aunt Jo called. “Dinner!”
    It was the best dinner I’d ever had. Aunt Jo had prepared heaping family-style bowls of pasta, lamb tenderloin just the way I loved it—smothered in her ancho chile rub—and her special string beans. We’d opened the bottle of wine, and Cassie, Asher, and I were all flushed and happy. Dan was good-natured about it, but I couldn’t help but think how sweet it was that he was listening so intently to Cassie’s mom’s instructions. Cassie and Dan were like my couple role models. Maybe one day, when all of this was over— if it ever could be—Asher and I could be together in a normal way, living in some normal house, just being . . . normal.
    Sometimes, as I looked around the table at my old friends—Cassie, beaming at Dan as he passed her the pasta—I almost forgot what was happening to me, that I was trying to turn myself into a fighter. I felt strange, like I was keeping something from almost every single person at the table. And I was. But a houseful of people determined to keep me safe was better than a lonely, empty house. It was a feeling I’d never really had before. This was my family.
    Aunt Jo was laughing and smiling, but I noticed that the smile never fully reached her eyes. She looked far away, and every time she glanced at Asher, she began to fidget nervously, an uncomfortable look washing over her face. What was going on with her? I’d never seen her act like this. I started to wonder: had she been so upset because I had run away—or because I’d been spending so much time with Asher ?
    After dinner, we nibbled on some lemon bars. I got up to bring a stack of plates into the kitchen, and Cassie followed me. The bruises on her face were looking a lot less purple now, but her eyes were still ringed with a muddy yellow. “Do those hurt still?” I asked tentatively. I put a large ceramic bowl in the sink.
    “Getting better,” she said, flinging a stray hair over her shoulder with a dramatic sigh. “I hate this effing cast, though. Do you see how stupid this looks?” She motioned to her one-legged tights.
    “Maybe it could be a new look?” I asked. “Like cutoff shorts?”
    “Not likely.” She snorted.
    I patted her head. “I’m glad the accident hasn’t affected your adventurous fashion sense.”
    Cassie giggled. “I like Asher,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one could hear.
    “You do?” I beamed. “I just want . . . I want us all to, you know, get along.”
    “No, he’s really great.” We peeked into the dining room, where Asher and Dan were apparently having some heated music debate. “I’m glad you don’t hang out with Devin anymore,” she said suddenly. “He’s really such a creep, Skye. He gives you the weirdest looks in homeroom.”
    I hesitated. All I wanted was to come clean about everything. “I know,” I told her. “You don’t know the half of it.”
    “I mean, he didn’t treat you very well at all, even as a friend. And he wasn’t very nice to any of us.”
    I busied myself arranging the remaining string beans on a platter into a haphazard flower pattern.
    “Yeah,” I said. “I know.”
    “And his new girlfriend’s the worst. I mean, seriously. What a bitch.”
    “Cassie, come on. I know all this.” I turned around,