So when night finally comes, James shuts off his typewriter, closes his notebook of scribbled thoughts, and slips out of his parents’ house.
Chapter 6
James stands in the bushes below Nelle’s bedroom window, the forest buzzing at his back, his heart slamming against his chest. Again, he half expects to see Quill’s face split the lacy white curtains.
You came back,he tells himself.Don’t give up now, baby.
He sucks in a breath, then softly raps his knuckle against the window, ready to bolt at the first sign of Quill.
With a groan, a pop, the window lifts.
Relief.
“Hey, there.” Nelle’s aroma melds with the night. Sweet vanilla, like a bakery in the morning, tainted by a tinge of ink and colored with pine needles. James rests his chin on his arms, folded on the windowsill.
“Can I come inside?”
She pulls her vanity stool up to the window. “Too risky.”
Cold water dumps into his bloodstream as he remembers that the subject of his fear is only a few walls away, possibly within earshot.
James scans the forest, the perfect place to hide.
“Why don’t you come out, then? We can go to a diner or just ride around.”
Nelle focuses on a noise behind her and picks at her nails, clearly frustrated, and James wonders whether her bedroom is locked or if Quill could barge in at any moment.
“I can’t,” she insists. “We’ll have to talk here.”
James wants to ask about the letter, but first ...
“I’m happy to see you again,” he says.
Nelle blinks, as if processing the words.
Too forward?he wonders.
Cautiously, she says, “I’m happy to see you, too, James.”
“You, uh, had a chance to read my letter?”
“I did.” She disappears into the room and comes back with the ripped envelope. She passes it through the window. “I need to tell you something. You don’t have to believe me, but it’ll be easier for both of us if you do.”
He hates to imagine Quill hurting her, in any way, but all he has witnessed pushes his thoughts in that direction. He itches to know, yet he dreads the truth.
Nelle braces herself against the windowsill. “You’re going to think I’m lying.”
“Try me.”
She sucks in a deep breath. “It might be easier to comprehend if I ... show you.”
Every idea James had evaporates. “Okay?”
“Do you have anything sharp on you? A pocketknife or—”
James jangles his keys. “This work?”
Nelle’s arm, pale like an eel, reaches through the window.
