The moment the promise left his lips, an entire row of books flew off the bookshelf as if someone had swept them off in a rage. I screeched and hopped out of the way as they thudded to the floor at my feet.
“Zellie!” Whit cried, sweeping me behind him in one swift motion and putting himself between the shelf and me.
I sent a frightened glance his way, but a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye snapped my attention in that direction in time to see the dagger June had given to Henry flying toward me. I gasped as the dagger suddenly stopped mere inches from my face. It took me a moment to realize the reason. Whit had somehow intercepted it, caught it with his bare hand. Droplets of blood trailed down the heel of his palm and dripped onto the floor.
When I stared at him, shocked, he cursed under his breath and snatched up the cloth the dagger had been wrapped in, hastily folding it around the weapon.
“Enough!” he roared at our unseen assailant, fury twisting his features into someone I barely recognized. “That is enough! She already knows!”
“Not everything.”
I gasped at the harsh whisper near my ear and spun toward the sound but saw no one there. I turned my wary gaze back to Whit. “What does she mean? ‘Not everything?’”
His brows twitched together. “What? Who?”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was suddenly too dry. “It might be Alice. Or Susanna maybe. Or Eliza. Or the woman from the wall. Hell, I don’t know! But she just told me I don’t know everything. What don’t I know, Whit?”
He stared at me as if weighing his words, sorrow and…defeat?…in his eyes. He reached out to me. “Zellie—”
I reflexively shrank back from him. The anguish that crossed his features gutted me.
“Whit, you said you had things you wanted to tell me,” I reminded him, my throat tight with tears, fearing for the destruction of my perfect dream. “What did you mean?”
“Zellie, baby,” he said gently, “could we just go back to bed? Let’s talk more in the morning.”
“No,” I said, not about to let him off the hook. “Don’t do that, Whit. You can’t blow me off after what just happened. Please, just be honest with me.”
“Okay,” he agreed, so softly I almost didn’t hear him. He cleared his throat, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Whoever she is, she’s right. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
My heart sank. My voice was barely above a whisper when I asked, “About what?”
He hesitated then finally said, “Alice.”
I blinked, hoping I hadn’t heard him right.
“You’re not the first one to see her,” he continued. “The previous tenant… She had experiences as well. Not like what you’ve had. She wasn’t sensitive that I’m aware of. But there were plenty of things that happened that scared her. That’s why she left so abruptly and didn’t take anything with her expect a few things she could pack in a suitcase.”
“How could you keep this from me?” I demanded, my voice shaking, fear of what else he wasn’t telling squeezing my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. “How, Whit? Knowing what I’ve been going through?”
“I only knew about David. You didn’t tell me about the others until our first night together at the beach house,” he countered. “I had no idea what you’d been going through. David is just a little boy, just lonely. I was hoping that Alice and the rest would leave you alone.”
I gaped at him. “Therest?”
Too angry to talk to him about this anymore, I strode passed him, jerking my arm away as he tried to reach for me.
“Zellie, please,” he called, his voice raw. “Let me explain everything. I have so much I’ve wanted to tell you, things you need to know.”
I threw my hands up, as if trying to block the sound of his words from reaching me as he followed me to our bedroom. “I don’t want to talk to you right now,” I told him. “I’m too pissed.”
I expected him to enter our bedroom, but he just stood in the doorway, both hands braced on the doorframe, head hanging down. “You don’t have to talk to me,” he told me as I climbed into bed and rolled over, my back to him. “You have every right to be furious with me. I should’ve told you so much before now. But, no matter what, just know how much I love you, Zellie. How much I love Henry.Youare my family. The only family that matters.”
I frowned at his words, finding them curious, but I was too hurt to ask him what he meant by that. When he didn’t join me in bed after a few minutes, I rolled over to face him, but he was no longer in the doorway.
My curiosity overriding my anger, I quietly got out of bed and went to look for him. When I didn’t see him sitting in the living room on the edge of the couch in his typical withdrawn, closed off posture when he was upset, I checked the kitchen, the bathroom. I was about to go check the other apartment, but then I heard his quiet words coming from Henry’s room.
I peered into the room from the doorway to see Whit sitting on Henry’s bed, arms on his knees, forehead resting on his clasped hands as if in prayer. Then his head snapped up as if he’d suddenly sensed my presence.
His eyes seemed to flash briefly—a trick of the light from the hallway behind me, no doubt, but disconcerting for a moment before his expression changed, became questioning. The look in his eyes was so repentant, so full of regret and sorrow, that it broke my heart.
