But I didn’t pry.
“Good luck,” I said, drifting farther down the narrow hallway. I looked around, wondering why such a big house had such a narrow hallway before my eyes landed back on him. “Don’t leave us out there all night.”
“I’ll find you within the hour.” He looked at the watch on his wrist—a watch that wasn’t there yesterday. A watch that he probably wouldn’t have been able to read yesterday.
Nessie was off in the distance, dirt between her toes as she rushed for the thick waft of forestry this land hosted. I watched her with a second of amusement,knowing my strong legs would catch up soon.
As I thought, it didn’t take me long to catch up, but not long after, I lost Nessie to the shadows of a million oak trees.
I only blinked, and she was gone; the sound of her feet crunching on twigs took her farther away into a direction not visible to me.
I moved in any direction my feet would take me, having no idea where I was going as I stared up at the giant trees as much as I did the unmarked path ahead of me.
I settled deep in the woods, unsure of how much further of this land I could traverse without trespassing on another’s property. My legs didn’t ache, my breaths didn’t rasp. I was used to running, skilled and quick.
There was no sight of another house or the sound of another human. This place was dead and alive all at once. Nature was thriving; the birds above, singing happy songs of love to their companions were the only sounds in my ears. I listened with a smile on my face, one not forced, as I appreciated the beauty of something as simple as birds tweeting merrily above me.
Has it been an hour yet?I wondered to myself, sitting in the glooming of the forestry, my only company was the trees and the creatures who lived in them, who had chosen to keep their distance. Time was ticking on. The day grew warmer as minutes or hours passed. Today was a great day for the sundress I was wearing—another gifted by Wynter. The floaty fabric was more lenient on my curves than her sweatsuits.
Georgia was hot like sunny California, the state where I’d grown from a toddler to a child to the woman I was now. Still humid in these heavy autumn months, but the slight chill that the concealment of trees offered, had me craving hot chocolate and warm blankets.
Sunlight pierced through the gaps between the leafy tree branches, and I tried to edge myself under the sun’s spotlight without making a sound.
I looked around the dimly lit space, wondering where in this huge space would I find a small child. . . and when I realized I wouldn’t, I wondered how would Woodrow.
Would he sense her? Could siblings feel a pull to one another? As an only child, I didn’t know those answers.
I raised to my feet; my bum was numb from sitting on it so damn long. I figured I’d head back. Turning on my heel to do just that, I stepped straight into Woodrow, my head hitting his bony chest, so hard, I saw stars, and not the ones falling from the morning sky. I blinked twice, praying I wasn’t concussed.
“Fifty-eight minutes.” He smiled. “Close, but within my hour.”
“Did you find Nessie?”
“I haven’t looked,” he whispered, struggling with the words. “Just you. I just looked for you.”
“So, I could do your chores?”
He laughed and it hurt him. I saw the adjustment he made to soothe it before diverting my eyes to his.
“If we left it to Nessie they’d never get done.” He slumped against a tree probably centuries older than his ancient home, his spine surely scraping the thick trunk.
“Okay. . . well, we can find your sister together. Two pairs of eyes are better than one.”
I turned to lead the way, but he clasped my hand in his long fingers. My gaze dropped to where we joined and another smile spread onto my lips; this one, somewhere between false and real.
“We won’t find her quickly. I never do. She’s small; she fits in tiny spaces, animal burrows and stuff.”
“She isn’t that small.” I laughed, really laughed, because what he said, couldn’t possibly be true.
“Trust me. She gets her devious ways from my parents.” He laughed, too, his, less genuine, caused by the pain in his throat—that he was again adjusting—or the truth in his words.
“Do you ever get along with your parents?” My eyes contacted his throat, his bruises still present, still purple.
“The issue is theirs,” he answered, the taste of the truth thick and sickening on his tongue. “I guess my mother didn’t feel ready for a child when she had me. She was young. It was different with Nessie—she wanted her. She was excited for her.”
He melted to the ground, finding comfort where I’d previously sat.
“What were your parents like?” he asked, genuine interest shining in his eyes, along withsomething else. His gaze shifted over my outfit, down my legs and back up. He breathed me in, his hand tapping the space at his side.
