Hypothetically, if we found ourselves in that situation, seeing their hands roam her body would make me want to bury myself deep inside her hot body and choke my brothers to death simultaneously.
I cock my head. “That’s a bold thing to say to me.”
“Well, Colten Lindenvale, you seem to bring that out of me.” She clucks her tongue. “For some reason, you frustrate the hell out of me, so you can only blame yourself for my insolence.”
I stalk toward her, the several yards between us crackling with energy. “And what is it about me that makes you so irritated?”
She breathes out the word as if it’s painful to admit. “Everything.” She tucks a strand of dark hair behind her ear, nervously peering down at her fingers. Her throat clears. “If I’m honest, I’ve never really had anyone around to infuriate me. And when you do it—”
She picks up the ball off the ground again and tosses it into the foggy black void in the distance. Rossco bolts after it, leaving us alone momentarily.
My voice lowers an octave. “When I do it…”
“It’s going to sound pathetic, so I don’t want to say it.”
“Say it.”
“Colten—”
“Say it, Little Ghost!”
“Fine! Because when you do it, I kind of like it.” She pauses. “Nobody has ever been around long enough to piss me off—at least not like you do. Even when you were fucking that girl against the window, you still acknowledged that I was here.”
Her lower lip quivers. My fingertips buzz, itching to grab her and trap that bottom lip between my teeth so she doesn’t have to wear this sadness transforming her features.
Closing her eyes, she shakes her head. “It’s sad, I know. Sometimes, I wish I were that kid who had helicopter parentsor an annoying sibling who always grated on my every nerve. I never had that. Sure, my parents were around, but they were always focused on the next adventure, the next house. The next place and yadda, yadda.”
Pain prickles behind my ribs, my sternum tightening like a massive ball python is coiling around my frame. Her words intensify their grip, squeezing the air out of my lungs.
“You call me Little Ghost. And sometimes that’s how I feel—at least that’s how I felt until you dragged me here against my will. I feel absolutely insane. I should be running. Should’ve done what any sane person would do and called someone or reported you when you let me go today, but I didn’t. Because, for some reason that I’ll never understand, Iwantto come back here.”
Oddly, I trust her, so I put aside my hesitations and let her take Elena and Tristan today. Watching her with them is simultaneously befuddling and enlightening.
Taryn encourages my little sister’s toothy, bright smile to appear more than it ever has. Elena is bold. Becoming fearless. Strutting around with her head held high and a flourishing sense of independence. We haven’t been missing Jess that long, but the shift Taryn creates in her little personality is evident.
And Tristan…
Damn, Tristan is entirely different. He’s talking to us. Not just because we ask him questions but because he voluntarily chooses to engage. Now, he lowers the Switch to his lap to fully interact instead of mumbling a few words or making sounds of acknowledgment with the screen in front of his eyes. He’s initiating conversations, and my heart throbs at the colossal change she’s instilling in him.
“But I still feel trapped, Colten,” she whispers. The way she articulates my name demolishes the organ in my chest. “And it’s not because of you three. It’s because I was moving around somuch before and never stayed in one spot long enough to form any kind of connection with anyone…Any kind of attachment that made me consider staying. I like it here,” she says under her breath. It’s a confession I barely catch amongst the voices of crickets and whirr of the breeze through the trees. “I mean, who actually likes being around the people who abducted them?”
I swallow her sincerity, tucking it away with the plethora of unfamiliar feelings she’s awakened within me.
Drawn by the magnetic pull, I find myself stepping toward her. Her chest rises and falls, the motion suspended in time as her dark irises bounce between mine.
My hands itch to touch her—to feel her soft, elastic skin molding to my hands.
Instead, I tuck them into my pockets to suppress the urge. “Do you enjoy being around us?”
She nods. “Am I crazy for wanting to stay?” she murmurs.
I don’t think she understands the weight those words carry. They’ve already etched themselves into my brain like the ink branded on my skin.
But as I hold her gaze, the durable part of my soul that has started to melt away since she arrived begins to solidify. Again.
Because saying you’ll stay is just as easy as leaving.
THIRTY-THREE | TARYN
