Finale

laughed softly into my neck, brushing my hair back off my shoulders. He smelled incredible. He felt warm and solid and so very close. My heart beat faster, squeezing
with guilt. I’d lied to Patch. I couldn’t forget. I shut my eyes, letting his mouth explore mine, trying to lose myself in the moment. All the while, the lies beat, beat, beat, in my
head. I’d taken devilcraft, and I’d mind-tricked him. I was still taking devilcraft.
    “Trouble with your costume is, it doesn’t hide your identity very well,” I said, pulling back. “And we’re not supposed to be seen together in public,
remember?”
    “Just stopping by for a minute. Couldn’t miss my girl’s party,” he murmured. He lowered his head to kiss me again.
    “Vee’s still not here,” I said. “I tried her cell. And Scott’s. I got sent to voice mail both times. Should I worry?”
    “Maybe they don’t want to be disturbed,” he spoke into my ear, his voice deep and gravelly. He pushed my dress higher up my leg, stroking his thumb over my bare thigh. The
warmth of his caress overrode my bad conscience. Sensation shivered through me. I shut my eyes again, this time involuntarily. All the knots loosened. My breath came a little faster. He knew just
how to touch me.
    Patch lifted me onto the sink’s ledge, his hands splayed on my hips. I got warm and woozy inside, and when he put his mouth on mine, I could have sworn sparks went off. His touch seared me
with passion. The fluttery, intoxicating liquid heat of being near him never grew old, no matter how many times we touched, flirted, kissed. If anything, that electric jolt intensified. I wanted
Patch, and I didn’t trust myself when I did.
    I don’t know how long the bathroom door stood open before I noticed. I jerked away from Patch, mouth gaping. My mom stood in the shadowy entrance, muttering about how the lock had never
worked properly, and she’d been meaning to fix it for ages, when her eyes must have adjusted to the dimness, because she stopped mid-apology.
    Her mouth snapped shut. Her face blanched . . . then flushed a deep, sizzling red. I’d never seen her look so enraged. “
Out!
” She flung her finger away. “Out of
my house this instant, and don’t think of coming back, or touching my daughter again!” she hissed at Patch, livid.
    I jumped off the sink. “Mom—”
    She turned on me. “Not a word from you!” she sputtered. “You said you broke up with him. You said it—this thing—between you and him—
it
was over. You
lied to me!”
    “I can explain,” I started, but she’d swiveled back to Patch.
    “Is this what you do? Seduce young girls in their own homes, with their own mothers standing feet away? You should be ashamed of yourself!”
    Patch laced his hand in mine, gripping it tightly. “Quite the opposite, Blythe. Your daughter means everything to me. Completely and wholly. I love her—it’s as simple as
that.” He spoke with calm assurance, but his jaw was as rigid as if cut from stone.
    “You destroyed her life! From the moment she met you, everything fell apart. You can deny it all you want, but I know you were involved in her kidnapping. Get out of my house,” she
snarled.
    I clung to Patch’s hand fiercely, murmuring,
I’m sorry, so sorry,
over and over in mind-speak. I’d spent the summer locked away against my will in a remote cabin. Hank
Millar was the mastermind behind my imprisonment, but my mom didn’t know that. Her mind had erected a wall around his memory, trapping in everything good and casting out the rest. I blamed
Hank, and I blamed devilcraft. She’d worked it out in her mind that Patch had been responsible for my kidnapping, and it was as much a truth to her as the sun rising each morning.
    “I should get going,” Patch told me, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze.
I’ll call you later,
he added privately to my thoughts.
    “I should think so!” my mom snapped, her shoulders rising from the exertion of breathing heavily.
    She stepped aside, allowing Patch to exit, but closed off the doorway before I could escape.
    “You’re grounded,” she said in a voice like iron. “Enjoy the party while it lasts, because it’s going to be your last social event for a long, long time.”
    “Are you even interested in hearing me out?” I shot back, enraged by the way she’d treated Patch.
    “I need time to cool down. It’s in your best interest to give me some space. I might be in the mood to talk tomorrow,