Mezzanine

| 18 |

The batter sizzling in the pan burned around the edges, but I didn't do anything to stop it. I just watched, trying to process what my mom had told me.

"Jay, they're burning." Her voice drew me out of my thoughts. She pried the spatula from my hand and scooted me out of the way, taking over the cooking.

"What do you mean I inherited the house?" My voice came out quieter than I'd intended.

She focused on the stove, avoiding eye contact. Her thoughts were a flurry in her mind, sputtering and bursting like the oil popping and snapping in the frying pan. The room spun around me in a nauseating haze.

"Mom," I called when she didn't answer.

She flipped the first batch of slightly burnt pancakes onto a chipped teal plate. "Will you check if we have butter and syrup?" She gestured toward the pantry with a tilt of her head. Then, she poured a second set of deformed globs of batter into the pan.

"Mom!" I yelled. "What do you mean I inherited the house? Stop ignoring me!" I slammed my hand on the counter.

She flinched as the plate clattered in the otherwise silent room. Her hands shook as she poked at the pancakes, trying to keep them from sticking to the pan.

Why did I tell him that? She bit down on her bottom lip. This is not a conversation I want to have right now. I...I just don't like to think about it. She glanced at me out of the corners of her pale blue eyes, a hint of tears glistening on them. I love him so much. I don't want to fight with him.

I eased off as her thoughts flowed over me. I remembered all the fights Damien had gotten in with her—yelling and screaming. Breaking things. A few weeks before he disappeared, I heard him arguing with her, and then her crying from her room as he stormed out of the house. I wanted to go in and comfort her, but I didn't know how. I wanted to go after Damien—yell at him and make him come home and apologize—but I didn't know how to do that either.

Now, I was the one fighting with her.

I didn't want to make her upset. I never wanted to do that, but at the same time, I needed to know. The fact that I'd inherited a house in the town where my mind reading ability manifested wasn't a coincidence. It had to be connected.

There was history I was missing, and I needed to know what it was. If I was going to figure out how to stop the...ability...that'd been plaguing me since I got here, and also how to help the girl screaming in the factory, I needed to know how I was connected to all of it.

"I'm sorry, Mom." I softened my tone. "I know it probably isn't something comfortable to talk about, but I need to know. What do you mean I inherited the house, and from who?"

My mom released a few heavy breaths, and then she went back to cooking. As much as I hate it, he's right. He needs to know eventually. It's wrong of me to keep this from him for so long. and now that I've brought it up, I can't go back. Maybe...it will be a relief to finally tell him. I hate having secrets between us.

Her thoughts sent a pang of guilt surging through me. Keeping my secret from her was even bigger than whatever she was keeping from me. Part of me just wanted to tell her what was going on—about the mind reading—but I knew I couldn't do that. She was already nervous enough. If she knew I was hearing every worry she had, she would never be comfortable around me again.

No—what I needed to do was find a way to stop this. And to do that, I needed to find out everything I could about why it was happening.

"Set the table." My mom's voice stirred me from my thoughts. She nodded towards the dinette against the kitchen wall. "We'll eat breakfast together, and I'll tell you about the inheritance."