My heart twists and spasms. Hollow Gardens. The tree. Kian.
What was I thinking? Have I lost my mind?
“I-I want to leave the house. I’ll take Ren. Please. I can’t stand being trapped here anymore.”
The second after is heavy with tension.
“Fine. Now, get out!”
I turn around and flee.
Chapter 22: HOLLOW IN MY HEART
“I know you saidit’s closed, but I still want to go,” I murmur from the backseat.
Ren’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, and he sighs.
After theincidentin his office—temporary insanity or Stockholm Syndrome, take your pick—Elias is dodging me again.
But at least I can leave the house now.
The realization sits wrong. Did I buy my freedom by grinding against my jailer? And what does it say about me if I want to do it again?
Because the sounds of his strangled breaths and the burn of his hands on my body, like getting me off was his sole purpose? They’re carved into my mind, and creep in when the house is quiet. And I refuse to untangle my complicated knot of emotions.
To distract myself from these unhelpful thoughts and to do something I’ve always wanted to do but couldn’t while I was imprisoned, I asked Ren to take me to Hollow Gardens for my first outing.
Ren grunts his disapproval again, pointing at the darkening skies.
It looks like it might snow—the weather in Chicago is as volatile as the man I married.
“I’ll make it quick. I just need to do something,” I reassure him, clutching the small box in my hand.
A slice of Hannah’s tiramisu.
It’s been my biggest regret since moving to Chicago—not lighting a candle for Kian by our elm tree at Hollow Gardens for his birthday.
Wrought-iron gates, tipped with the gray sludge of dirty snow, loom before us. My heart clenches, ghosts of the past twirling behind my eyelids.
Before the car comes to a stop, I wrench open the door and hop out.
My boots clomp on the snow piled on the curb, and my lungs heave in icy needles of winter air. A sudden gust almost knocks me off my feet as snow drifts from the sky. I wrap my jacket tighter around my body as I follow the fence to the towering metal sign with the gothic lettering.
Hollow Gardens.
The letters are rusted with age.
I shake the gates.
But as Ren said, it’s locked.
A yellow sign hangs to the side—under renovation.
My mind shifts to the permit I saw on Elias’s desk. Why would he have it? What does he want with the park?
My breath comes out in a cloud of white. I spot our elm tree in the distance, its barren branches straining toward the sky.
Memories flicker through my mind.
