Grabbing on to one of the stone pillars in the hallway, she spins around. “Whoa, Burlington Hall. Long time no see.” Her arms spread around the circumference. “I missed you. Thought I’d never be invited back.”
“Okay, Story, let’s get you to bed.”
She gasps and giggles behind her hand. “Why, Lord Burlington, I thought you’d never ask.”
I shoot a glare at Lando as he snorts loudly behind me, then another one for being absolutely no help whatsoever.
“I’ll be waiting downstairs for a beer. Are you hungry? Shall I see if Pierre can rustle up some pizzas?”
“Yes,” I say, begrudgingly, and guide Story up the stairs. Holiday and Clementine are way ahead of us. I debate putting Story in the spare room in the east wing near me, but it’snear meand so is Max. I don’t want him asking questions about why his teacher is staying over.
Therefore, we turn left at the top of the staircase toward the west wing instead.
“Did the corridor always used to be blue?” Story muses, trailing her fingertips along the wall. There’s a whimsical, dreamy quality about the way she’s moving,slow and preoccupied that any other time I might find cute, but right now, I don’t have the patience for.
I nod. “Yes.”
“Could have sworn it was yellow.”
“Nope, blue. Remember, you always said it could do with having clouds painted on it.”
“Oh yes. I remember now.” She grins. It turns into another giggle, followed by a pirouette. “I used to love having sleepovers. Remember when we used to have sleepovers, Hen?”
I hum in response, but my only recollection of the sleepovers is how they stopped around the time we were thirteen. Right before sleeping in the same bed all night would come with a set of challenges, and sneaking down the corridor to each other’s rooms was too risky.
“Okay, Stor, you can sleep in here.” I open the door to the bedroom farthest away from mine.
Following me in, she stands by the bed and watches me walk around the room, switching on the bedside light, drawing the curtains, and checking the warmth of the radiators. In the bathroom, I find spare toothbrushes and toothpaste, face cloths and towels, and a little basket with anything a guest could need.
She hasn’t moved by the time I return. “Story, I’m going to fetch you some water and painkillers for the morning. In the meantime, you can brush your teeth and go to sleep.”
“Hendricks, are you going to stay with me?”
I lean in and kiss her cheek, my body tensing in refusal to betray how much I want to stay. “Make sure you call your mum and let her know you’re okay.”
Softly, her fingers link with mine. “Do youpromise you’re not mad at me?”
She’s drunk, so she doesn’t get it. “I could never be mad at you, Stor.” Not anymore, anyway. Not ever really. It was me I was mad at.
Her smile is heartbreaking, offset only by her slightly unfocused eyes. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“Go to sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Wait.” She pulls me back. “Tell me you love me again.”
Standing in front of her, I pretend she’s not swaying. I pretend my words don’t come with restrictions, and that she’s not leaving again.
I want them to hit her with the full force of their meaning.
“I love you, Story MacIntosh.”
This time, I walk out and don’t turn around. The second the latch clicks on the door, I sprint down the corridor, avoiding all the creaky floorboards, and rush down the stairs.
I haven’t thought through this plan at all. Story sleeping under the same roof as me. Maybe I should lock her door, maybe I should ask Lando to lockmine.
“Didn’t think I’d see you until the morning.” Lando grins as I walk into the kitchen, slightly out of breath.
I pause mid-stride. “You said you were organizing pizza.”
