Chapter Six
Ella
The morning sunlight streaming through my windows and hitting me square in the face, woke me up. My eyes were grainy and I felt like I'd only just fallen asleep. About all I wanted in that moment was to roll over and sleep for another three days. But, I couldn't do that.
I grumbled to myself and climbed out of bed. Rubbing my eyes, I staggered over to the bathroom and turned the shower on. Without bothering to wait for it to warm up, I stripped off my clothes and jumped in, letting the bitingly cold water hit me – stifling a scream as I felt like I'd submerged myself in ice water.
Gradually, the water began to warm up and soothe my frosty skin. The cold water had done its job though – I was awake and alert. I let the warm water work its magic on me and when I felt sufficiently thawed, I washed up then climbed out of the shower and toweled off.
Walking back into my room, I put on some clothes for the day – jeans, my boots, and a black t-shirt. I ran a brush through my short, black bob and I was ready. Jacob was already moving around downstairs and I felt a knot in my stomach constrict. The butterflies of guilt and remorse were already fluttering in my gut knowing what I had to do.
But, I was a big girl. I'd screwed up and it was up to me to fix it.
I took a deep breath and let it out before opening my door and heading downstairs. Jacob was in the kitchen reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee when I walked in. He didn't even bother to look up at me – let alone greet me – when I walked in. The air in the kitchen was definitely frosty.
I fixed myself a cup of coffee and sat down at the table across from him. He still didn't lower the paper, look at me, or acknowledge my presence in any way, shape, or form. At the moment, I was simply a piece of furniture to him.
“Jacob?”
He finally lowered the paper and looked at me, but didn't say a word.
“I just wanted to say that I'm sorry,” I said, genuine emotion coloring my voice. “I was way out of line last night and I shouldn't have said what I did. I never want to hurt you, I was just frustrated and took it out on you. I'm sorry.”
He let out a long breath and set the paper down on the table. He gave me a long, level look, but I saw that his eyes were glistening somewhat.
“I know you didn't mean it, El,” he said. “I know you were just speaking out of anger.”
“I was. I was being a child. I'm sorry.”
Jacob reached across the table and took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Water under the bridge, kid.”
I gave him a smile that was both relieved and grateful. In all the years I'd been with Jacob – and through all of the arguments we'd had over that time – I'd never said something as cruel and vindictive as what I'd said last night. And I was ashamed of myself for it. I could only stammer incoherently with thankfulness that Jacob had a grace that I apparently did not.
“So,” he said and cleared his throat. “Tell me more about your adventure last night.”
“A – are you sure?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I may not have approved, but you may have some useful intel that we can use. Might as well take advantage of it.”
I launched into my story, telling him everything that had happened. Everything that I'd seen and done. He sat back in his seat, sipping his coffee, listening to it all without saying a word. But I could see the wheels in his mind spinning as he processed everything I was telling him.
“Spit fire, huh?” he asked, once I'd finished my story.
I nodded. “Yeah. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes.”
“And it actually killed the Scale?”
I nodded again. “Dead as the proverbial doornail,” I said. “I checked out the body on my way out and the thing was just a pile of ash. Crumbled and blew away when I nudged it with my foot.”
“That's really interesting,” he said. “Never heard of anything that can do something like that.”
I told him about what I'd found online the night before. He just looked at me with a raised eyebrow and a skeptical expression on his face.
“You read that on some random blog post?” he asked.
“It wouldn't be the first time we used information we found online to run something down.”
“We always have a secondary source before we move on anything though,” he reminded me.
“But I'm the secondary source,” I said. “I was there. I saw it.”
He rubbed his grizzled jawline and nodded. “Yeah, I guess you are. Didn't think of it like that before.”
“See? I'm good for something after all.”
He shrugged. “Don't sell yourself short, kid,” he said. “You're good for doing the dishes too.”
I gave him the finger, but smiled.
“Finish up your coffee,” he said. “Let's take a ride.”
“Where are we going?”
“I want to see this pile of ash.”
I nodded and downed the last of my coffee, dropping my cup in the sink as we headed out the door.
“You can wash those when we get back,” he said, grinning.
“Screw you, old man.”