Then she looks back at me, and her face softens just a fraction—not into sympathy or pity. Just… understanding.
Justin shoots her a look. Bethany ignores it. I have a feeling she does that alot.
“How did you not tell me you had a sister?” I ask before I can stop myself.
The words come out sharper than I mean them to. Not accusing. Just… surprised.
Justin’s eyes flick to me. Then to Bethany. Like it genuinely didn’t occur to him that this would matter.
Bethany’s grin turns wicked. “Aw. He didn’t mention me? That’s just rude.”
Justin exhales through his nose. “It wasn’t relevant.”
Bethany scoffs. “Nothing to you is relevant until it is.”
Then she steps closer, dropping her voice slightly so it feels like it’s meant for me, not him. “He forgets normal people have normal questions.”
I stiffen atnormal people.I’m not normal. Not anymore. Maybe I’ll never be again.
Her green eyes flick to my throat again. Then back to my face.
“You’re safe here,” she reassures me, and for the first time, her voice loses its edge. “No one’s getting through those doors.”
I want to believe her. I hate how much I want to.
Justin shifts, like the room is getting too tight. His attention flicks to the corner of the room. Something unreadable moves behind his eyes.
A possessive pull snaps tight inside me.
Bethany follows his gaze and sighs. “You’re going out.”
Justin doesn’t bother denying it. “I have to.”
“No, youwantto,” she corrects sharply. “You always want to. Because sitting still means you have to feel things.”
Justin’s expression hardens. “Beth.”
She holds his stare. “Justin.”
The way she says his name is different than anyone else I’ve ever heard. Not reverent. Not careful. Like she’s holding the leash of the monster and refuses to pretend he isn’t one.
And then she glances at me again, and something flickers in her face. A decision.
She turns fully toward Justin. “I’ll stay. You go. Do what you have to do.”
Justin’s gaze shifts to me. He looks like he’s trying to give me an option without saying the words.
“Can you spare a few hours?” He asks her, turning back to his sister.
My throat tightens again. He’s leaving. I should feel relieved. I should want space. I don’t.
Bethany looks at me now, and her expression turns unexpectedly gentle—still sharp around the edges, but kinder.
“If you’ll have me.”
A laugh catches in my chest and dies there. Have her? LikeI’m hosting a tea party and not sitting in a church-turned-bunker with bruises on my throat.
I nod once. “Yes.”
