The question caught her off guard. “I haven’t.”
“It involves the ancient Greek practice of tucking coins into the cheeks of the dead to grant them safe passage through the underworld.” He drew out a hand, and Delaney caught the alloyed wink of a nickel disappearing between his fingers. “The obols were meant as a bribe for the ferryman. Surviving family members wanted to make sure the deceased were able to pay their way across the rivers. Otherwise, they’d be stuck earthside for all eternity, left to wander back home to haunt the living.”
“Oh,” Delaney said, disappointed. “Okay.”
Colton slipped the nickel back into his pocket. “There’s one truth.”
“But that was just a random fact,” she countered. “It wasn’t a personal truth.”
His brows drew together. “Wasn’t it?”
“Don’t be cryptic,” she said. “There has to be something you’re comfortable sharing.”
“Let’s see.” He pretended to mull it over. “Here’s another—I’m allergic to shellfish.”
“You’re not taking this seriously.”
The look he gave her was deeply affronted. “A shellfish allergy is incredibly serious. I could go into anaphylactic shock if I even make eye contact with a lobster.”
“Price.”
“Fine.” He pawed at the back of his neck. “You want the truth?”
“That’s all I want,” she assured him.
“Okay.” He blew out a breath. “All right.”
“This doesn’t have to be a whole ordeal,” Delaney said. “You’re not being graded on the quality of your facts.”
“Are you sure?” He pinned her in a look. “Because it kind of seems like I am.”
“Just spit it out, Price.”
“I don’t want to be your friend, Delaney.”
A bird swooped past in a rustle of wings. Delaney stared up at Colton. He glowered back down at her. He looked vaguely reproachful—as if she’d shoved her bare hand down his throat and ripped the admission out of him. All of the air rushed out of her on an exhale.
“Oh,” she said.
“It’s selfish of me,” he went on, his voice like arsenic. “All I’ll do is hurt you. I know it. Deep down, I think you know it, too. But you keep hanging around, and I can’t figure out why.”
Her heart tripped inside her chest. She knew it was her turn to say something, but her head seemed to have emptied out every last scrap of coherent thought it possessed. The wind picked up, bending the boughs of the old white oak. Ferried in on the red rush of leaves was a voice, low and broken.
Malus navis.
Delaney drew out from under Colton’s shadow, peering around him to find the sky empty of all but cottonwood fluff. The way home was marked by little more than a sigh. There was no one there. Only her and Colton.
And whatever else waited nearby, murmuring in the meadow.
“Did you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Colton asked, an edge creeping into his voice.
Hurry.There it was again. This time, she wasn’t sure if the sound originated in her head or out of it.Help me.
“Wednesday.” This, from Colton, sharp and obtrusive. “Stop.”
She hadn’t realized she’d begun to walk away until he spoke. The earth cracked underfoot as she pushed deeper into the grasses, drawn to that incessant murmur. A twig snapped, startling a dragonfly into flight. A brace of blackbirds took screaming to the sky. They sounded faraway, as though she were hearing their cries through a wall of glass.
