She doesn’t say anything, merely peers at me with her skinny arms crossed over her chest. The understated strength in her stance makes me abruptly sure I’d have more to fear from her than her brother if it came to a fight.
Weirdly, her assessing gaze relaxes me. There’s no way in hell I’ll get off track or lose my mind to lust while Elodie has two protective relatives hovering nearby.
Julien returns a few minutes later, still frowning. I brace myself for a dismissal, but he tilts his head toward the stairs. “You can speak to her in the TV nook. Please do keep it brief. And thank you for coming.”
Naturally I’ve been relegated to a “nook.” Not that I think it’d be a wise idea for me to chat with Elodie in her bedroom.
Just thinking about her lounging on a bed sets off an unwelcome flare of heat in my groin that I really hope her father can’t pick up on.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I can’t hold on to any offense about our meeting place. The apparent TV nook is an entire room branching off from the second floor landing, larger than my and Asher’s living room with a huge sectional facing a massive TV.
I step toward it, and the far end of the sectional comes into view beyond a pillar. I stall in my tracks.
Elodie is sitting on the corner of the sofa. At a glance, to someone who hasn’t spent the last two weeks noticing her far more than I’d prefer to, she’d look the same as usual. She’s dressed in a simple but well-fitted blouse and slacks, her dark hair draping smoothly across her shoulders. A healthy tint of color shows in her olive-toned skin.
And I’m struck immediately by the sense that something is very wrong with her.
Her gaze settles on me, but I don’t catch any of her recent defiance in her dark green eyes or the tilt of her chin. Other thanthe minute tensing of her jaw, she looks as though she barely cares who’s arriving.
There’s a slight slump to her shoulders, as if she’s tired of holding them all the way up. Her hands lie aimlessly on her lap.
She’s put in enough effort to summon a layer of ephemera against any deeper probing, but even that barrier gives off an unsettling tremor. I suspect I could crack right through it with a single push, if I was callous enough to try.
My first thought is that the poison has somehow burned the spirit right out of her.
Elodie’s greeting breaks through my stupor. “Professor Raith. You have some schoolwork to go over with me?”
Her voice sounds hollow too. Where the hell is the girl who glared and threw barbs at me just last week?
I pictured this conversation as more of a confrontation: me wheedling for answers while Elodie tried to dodge, both of us prodding and feinting in a battle of intentions. Seeing her now, the thought of interrogating her about her actions in the cafeteria makesmefeel ill.
“Yes.” I push myself forward and sink onto the opposite end of the sectional, several feet away from her. It’s easier to look at my briefcase as I undo the clasps than to keep taking in her altered presence. “Everyone of course wants you to take the time to fully recover before you return to school, and you’ll be granted plenty of time to catch up, but I thought you might not want to fall too far behind.”
A hitch of a laugh brings my head up, but Elodie is gazing toward the blank TV screen rather than me. “No, couldn’t have that.”
I’d bristle if her sarcasm didn’t come across as so deflated. My hands waver over the briefcase for a moment before I pull myself back on course.
I lift the lid and retrieve the folder I put together over the course of the day. All of Elodie’s other professors were eager to contribute what they could to such a high-ranking pupil’s studies. By the time I finished making my spiels about supporting her through her difficulties, my skin felt slimy. But that purpose doesn’t have to be a lie.
“In most of your courses, this week’s lectures and demonstrations have been building on concepts you’ve already been working through. Nothing hugely surprising there. You might consider attempting a few exercises to make sure your grasp is solid… Professor Onyema said tactile suppression is the most important area, and Professor Jovak recommended focusing on olfactory effects.”
I sort through the papers, laying them out on the ottoman between us as I speak. Elodie’s attention remains on the vacant screen.
I grope for something else to say. “I’m sure everyone would be happy to put together another package next week if necessary, though I’d imagine you’ll be back to speak to them in person by then?—”
“And if I’m not?”
She may as well have asked the pane of glass. I stare at her, annoyed at myself for not knowing how to respond.
“You appear to be reasonably well already,” I venture.
Another short, raw laugh. “Yes. By all the criteria that are supposed to matter.”
She feels too far away, and the urge—theneed—to bring her back slices into me like a scalpel. My heart stutters with a sudden, brutal ache.
I grope for something to say that will fulfill that need. “Are you thinking you’ll require more time? The staff could find ways to ease you into regular?—”
Her gaze finally slides back to me, and I almost wish it hadn’t. She’s so distant behind her cool eyes. “Maybe I won’t return at all. There’s hardly any point, is there?”
