“Hey.”
Elowyn.
I’ve been so caught up in my guilt and hate that I didn’t hear her coming up behind me. But she’s here. The faint scent of her vanilla lotion, that hint of clean soap, they’re a breath of fresh air.
There’s no guilt, carnage, or bodies when she’s around.
Except…the blood splotch I must’ve missed, I think I feel it drying on my cheek. My crumpled shirt, the sand.
I can’t turn around. Can’t.
“Duncan.” Elowyn’s resolve echoes even through her hushed voice. Her hand tightens on my shoulder. “Please, say something. You two have been gone for hours. What’s going on?”
“Go to bed, Elowyn.” I want her close. Want to fold her in my arms and never let go. Want her to keep looking at me like I hung the moon. Not like I’m a killer. “It’s late.”
“No.” She releases me, but doesn’t leave.
Her bare feet pad softly across the floor as she circles me. At five-four, she’s a foot shorter than I am. Delicate, too. That doesn’t make her any less powerful. I don’t think she has any idea how strong she really is, deep down.
One day, I’ll teach her to fight back. To stand her ground. To see her true worth.
Until then…
“Go to bed,” I repeat, my hands clenching at my sides so I won’t touch her. I need to scrub them a million times before I put a single finger on Elowyn. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“Your cheek.” Narrowed gray eyes study me intently. “You’re bleeding. What happened?”
Thinking fast, I rack my brain for a believable excuse that doesn’t involve killing someone.
Got it. “Scraped it on a fence earlier.”
Her cute button nose twitches. Her lips, full and pink, are pressed into a line of determination. The fact that her dirty blonde hair is messy doesn’t make her appear any less beautiful.
“No, I—we’re talking now.” Despite being hesitant, Elowyn doesn’t shy from assessing me from head to toe.
If I had to guess, she’s trying to figure out how to help.
She’s so sweet, my chest aches. More than sweet. She’s perfect.
Tomorrow, I’ll pretend to be the perfect boy too. When I’m up for it. When my jaw stops ticking, and my blood isn’t hotter than lava.
“Go. To. Bed,” I say, wanting this discussion to end and to stay in Elowyn’s orbit forever at the same time. “Please.”
“Duncan Rourke, you’re being seriously…” She crosses her arms over her chest, the pink nightgown’s fabric scrunching as she does.
She hesitates, words hovering on the tip of her tongue.
And when nothing comes, she snaps her lips shut.
I should be grateful for her silence. Should go to my room and call it a night.
Impossible. I’m desperate to know what she has to say. Why would she withhold it from me?
Because you’ve been so open and told her about Ross? Talked about your grief with her? About how some nights, your parents’ charred bodies come to you in nightmares?
No, you haven’t. The only person you open up to is Barclay, if at all.
Shoving guilt aside, I blink the world back into focus.
