Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

She was right to warn her off. To think how many times I
taunted that line with Rika…
Jesus, fuck.
Oh, what the hell. In the long scheme of things, it was just
another rung on the ladder of fucked-up shit I’d done that just
made our little group a little more interesting. We’d get over it.
Ringing the doorbell, I slid a hand in my pants pocket,
dressed in a black suit and black shirt, because it wasn’t
Winter’s Damon I needed to be tonight.
The door opened, and I looked into her eyes, her smile
fading and her chest caving deeper and deeper as she breathed.
I stared at her face, seeing it with new eyes and studying
her features to try to detect any parts of me. Blonde hair, same
as Rika’s, in a stylish, messy bun with strands of hair around
her face. Thin, toned body—much healthier than a couple
years ago when she was hopped up on pills and alcohol.
She wore a slender pair of black pants, a black, sleeveless
blouse, and her makeup made her look so much younger than
her mid-forties.
I didn’t see much of me, though. Or maybe my pulse was
thundering in my ears so hard, I was just too impatient and
distracted to think straight.
“Is it true?” I demanded.
She dropped her hand from the knob and stood there, as if
in a trance.
“Is what true?” I heard someone say.
Rika came out from somewhere behind her mother, her
fingers threaded through the handle of a coffee cup and
looking at me.
They, on the other hand, looked a lot alike.
When no one said anything, her gaze shifted to her mother.
“Mom?”
But Christiane’s eyes dropped, her lips trembled, and she
knew it was over. There was no hiding this anymore.