Kaiser doesn’t smile. He looks like someone died. “I thought…” He shakes his head. “I thought you were dying.”
“No. I’ll be fine.”
“Fuck,” he breathes out and drops into the armchair next to the bed.
“It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
He rubs his face. He’s got a few days’ worth of golden stubble covering his jaw. “Your father told us this happened before. He didn’t seem concerned. The last time you were sick like this was when your mother died.”
I think back over the years. I would’ve been five. Darkness tight on my skin. Burning heat. The memories are blurred, but they’re there. “I remember.”
“I shouldn’t have threatened your father. He cares about you. ”
“Not enough to—” I cut myself off, but Kaiser knows what I was going to say. Not enough to stop this arranged marriage.
He stares at me, looking haggard. I want to put out my hand and comfort him.
But I don’t. We can’t touch anymore. It’s for the best.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “He couldn’t have done anything.”
“He was so worried. We all were.”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “It’ll never happen again.”
Kaiser
Bella’s awake, but she’s not herself.
Atticus comes and looks her over, pronouncing her out of the woods. He prescribes lots of liquids and rest.
I order every type of soup I can think of. I call in more favors until I reach Royal Regis, the head of the mafia family. Royal’s wife, Leah, owns Pane P’s. I offer him a favor in exchange for a special delivery of Bella’s favorite baked goods.
It doesn’t work. Even the cruffins—a disgusting mix of muffins, croissants, and cream—don’t tempt her.
She stays in bed, drinking plain broth and tea. Color returns to her cheeks, but she still acts listless.
I put on her favorite season of Vampire Varsity and tell her that I think Luna shouldn’t have ended up with Dargon, the evil twin. She usually argues passionately about that.
She says nothing.
And she doesn’t let me touch her. At all. She’s careful to make sure our skin doesn’t touch, even by accident. I never realized how much I touched her until I couldn’t touch her anymore. She’s shut down, and normally I’d rub her shoulders and neck to get her back online.
She’s still recovering, I remind myself. She’s not herself.
But it feels like more than that. It feels like the old Bella died. She’s gone forever.
I’ve never seen her act so cold, so remote. Almost robotic. A lot like her father. The emotion is gone, buried deep. She doesn’t laugh, doesn’t cry. The only time I see a flicker of anything is when I show her the journals.
“You can keep the journals,” I say. “Your mother would’ve wanted you to have them.”
She nods, running her hands over them.
“Do you want to read them?”
“No.” She stacks them up and puts them to the side.
I take a deep breath. “Your father would like to come visit. Do you want that?”
