“He’s comingback.”
“No, he’s not, and I don’t blame him.” His voice gets closer, mouth brushing the door. “I think he woke up and realized how much trouble it is to take care of you. To write for you. To know that a single day won’t go by that you don’tneedhim.”
“Shut up.” Nelle stands, back to door. “Maybe you feel that way, but I know he doesn’t.”
“Where is he, then?”
She slides down, knees to her chest. The bathroom sink whispers through the wall.
“How did you find me?”
“We’re soul-tied,” Quill says. “I had a dream, saw you here, took the next flight to DC. Listen, Nellie, I’m not here to force you to come with me. Ican’tanymore. But I want to give you a choice.”
Lies, lies, lies.She presses her fists into her eye sockets.Don’t believe a word he says. Just make him leave.
“James left you.”
No, whispers her heart,he didn’t.
“He’s not coming back,” Quill says. “This is your one chance, Nellie. Come home, and I’ll forgive you. I’ll keep you safe, you’ll see. You’re too fragile for the world. It’s too dangerous.”
“Go away.” It’s feeble, but it’s all she can manage.
“We will be different,” Quill says desperately. “Nellie, I’ll be a better father. I promise. No more punishments. And I’ll let—”
“Fuck. Off.” Nelle’s fists clench by her sides.
After a minute, Quill’s footsteps move down the hall.
She lets out a breath, and with it come the tears. Peeling herself off the floor, she only makes it as far as the bed before she crashes out entirely. Sobbing, sweating through the bedsheets, puffy and red, praying that James didn’t leave for good. That she isn’t stranded here.
When James returns, she is almost too numb to notice. She curls into his chest, under the shelf of his chin, sobbing.
“Quill was here. He came.”
“What?” James’s arms tighten around her. “He’s alive?”
“He knew what room we’re in,” Nelle grits out through her tears.
His jaw rests on top of her head. “God, how did he even find us?”
“I don’t know.” She sees Quill through that peephole every time she blinks. “But I think he’s been following us since we left Lincoln.”
“Impossible,” James says. “We would’ve seen him.”
Nelle is still too frazzled to defend what she knows is fact. “Quill washere. How he found us doesn’t matter. He did. And he will find us again.”
Slowly, as James whispers his apologies, his arms tug her back to earth.
When Nelle finally pulls away, she fists the front of his shirt and growls, “Don’teverleave again without telling me first.”
James kisses her knuckles gentler than a butterfly.
“I never will again.” He holds out his pinkie. “I promise.”
“What’s that?” She watches his finger.
“It’s a pinkie promise,” he says. “Seriously, you don’t—? Oh, why do I even ask anymore. It’s like ... a way to seal your promise. To make it official.”
