I slid my arm around her shoulders and forced her to sit up.
“You need to eat something.” I forced the bowl into her hands. Her watery eyes stared up at me.
“Yes, Luna,” she croaked.
Her hand shook, but she managed to grab the spoon and shovel some in her mouth. She swallowed without chewing. Then took another spoonful.
I removed my arm from her back and went to the ensuite and turned the shower on.
Upon returning to her, she’d finished eating.
“We need to get you feeling like a human again.” She stared at me, her lip trembling. “Stand up, time to shower.”
She swung her legs over the bed and stood, unsteadily. I grabbed her arm and helped her to the bathroom.
She didn’t stop to remove her clothes; she just stepped in and plopped herself near the drain.
I left her in the water and headed to the bedroom to remove the bed sheets and started a pile of dirty laundry in the corner of the room.
Then I went hunting for some bed sheets, but all I could find was the spare blanket on the chair in the bedroom. I spread it over the bare mattress and carefully laid some of Sorin’s clothes next to her pillows, trying my best not to touch them too much.
The cries from the bathroom tapered off into hiccups.
Her face was tipped up toward the shower.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, hovering outside the clear glass.
She was silent, and then she huffed out a breath.
“It was our choice.” She shook her head. “He wanted the position.”
She dropped her face into her hands with a sob.
“I miss him.” Her shoulders jerked violently.
I stepped into the shower without removing my clothes and hugged her, letting her cry. Her pain felt tangible and wrenching. She’d lost her other half.
She was mourning, and nothing would make it better, no words, nothing.
If I lost Lucian . . . I took a moment to imagine his death. My stomach turned hollow. As mad at him as I was, as hurt as I was, if he died . . .? I let out a slow breath to calm my throbbing heart.
I would fall apart.
My hair plastered to my cheeks, and water drenched my clothes. I’d borrow one of her outfits before I left, but right now all I cared about was her.
I continued patting her back in a calming rhythm.
18
Ipropped my elbows on my knees, swirling the bottle of whiskey. The liquid turned in a funnel, and the only light came in from the large window. It was late, kissing midnight, and she still hadn’t returned.
She had been with Samantha the entire day. I’d sulked around the house waiting for her return, haunting the halls of my home.
Josephine was avoiding me; it was obvious, and it made me desperate. My heart ached as if to emphasize my wound. I’d tried so hard to get her to soften, and sometimes it worked. She loosened up, and her smile no longer had the tension bracketing her lips.
Then it was like reality hit her, her expression stiffened followed by her body. As if a barrier rolled over her.
It drove me fucking crazy.
