“My dad used to say love is never wasted,” she says, fingering one of my locs. “I used to think that was stupid. Especially after he died. But now I think I understand.”
“What happened?” I ask.
She doesn’t stiffen as she did the first time I asked this question; instead, she sighs.
“We don’t know. Isaac came home from school, and he was gone. Mom died about a week later. Just didn’t wake up one morning.”
My hold tightens, and she sighs, releasing the tension in her back and shoulders. But even this tangled embrace doesn’t feel close enough. It never does. And I suspect it won’t until I find a way to pry open my chest and let her crawl inside.
“Your mom starved after he left, didn’t she?”
She nods, the firelight reflected in her dark eyes.
“I was so mad at her,” she says. “I couldn’t understand why? Why wouldn’t she just find someone else? Why wouldn’t she just eat?”
She flicks a little piece of lint into the fire and watches as it sparks and burns.
“I thought she must not have loved us enough, not enough to stay, at least. But I know better now.”
Her brows dip down briefly before the wrinkle between her eyes smooths out, and she turns to face me.
“He would have done anything for her,” she says. “Because that’s what you do when you love someone as much as he loved her. And she didn’t starve because she wouldn’t eat, she starved because he was gone.”
She lifts her head, eyes bleary with unshed tears. I brush them away as they start to pour over, and the ringing in my ears finally stops, as she whispers, “I don’t want to starve, Elliot.”
Chapter29
A Little Monstrous
ELLIOT
My face feelshot as she leers at me, and my breathing is shallow when she rises from the sofa.
“Iris…”
My mouth opens to help her see reason, but I grow distracted by the smooth touch of her skin as she pulls me to my feet.
“Come on,” she says, voice low.
“Where—”
I start to ask where we’re going, but I decide shortly after that it doesn’t matter as long as I’m going where she’s going.
My feet drag as she leads me through the house, too distracted by the scent thread trailing off of her to remember to pick up my feet. I stumble over a few steps, not looking where I’m headed, but I can’t stop looking at her. Every time I do, I can’t breathe. Even blinking feels like a sin. So I simply don’t.
“Elliot?”
Her face tilts in front of me, sweet almond eyes smiling. I am vaguely aware that the room has changed. Or maybe it hasn’t changed, but I’ve moved. I don’t remember moving, but whatever the case, I like this room much better.
This room is soft and pink, and it smells like cherries and honey.
“Sit,” she commands, urging me down onto a low bench.
My tail wags as I do as I’m told, and I think I can hear her laughing at me.
“What’s so funny?” I ask, smiling at the sight of the joy on her face.
“I think Kitty added too much lovelace,” she says.
