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“I really have to go now,” I whispered, the words tearing out of me. Leaving him felt incredibly wrong. As if I was making a mistake by returning upstairs.

“I really…”

“You have to go now,” he finished for me. I nodded, even though my body refused to move at first. Come on, Evie. Slowly, I peeled my hands away from his face, because it physically hurt to break the contact. I stayed sitting in his bare lap for a second longer than I should have—like it was normal, like we were still those same people.

We weren’t.

But I wanted to pretend.

“Merry Christmas, Jackson,” I whispered, leaning forward before I could stop myself, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. My lips trembled against his skin, damp with tears. It was the first kiss I'd wanted since the last time I’d felt his lips against mine, and that fact speared me.

“Merry Christmas, Evie,” he said quietly, his gaze dropping, like he couldn’t watch me leave, and that broke something small and fragile inside me. I let go of him completely then, grabbing the plate before forcing myself to stand, my legs unsteady as I stepped back from the mattress. The distance felt immediate, like my heart was splintering in my chest.

I turned before I could change my mind. And each step up the stairs felt heavier than the last, like something was pulling me back down with him. Like I was leaving my soul in the bottom of the basement.

My chest ached.

My throat burned.

Halfway up, I almost stopped.

But I didn’t.

I reached the top, my hand shaking as I gripped the door, pulling it open just enough to slip through. Before I closed the door, I looked back down the staircase, connecting eyes with Jackson and sending him a silent promise—one I knew I would keep, because any other outcome would’ve killed me.

I love you, and I’m going to get you out of here.

Even if it’s the last thing I do.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

JACKSON

December 28th, 1992

“You have no idea how hard it’s been without you.”

Those words echoed in my mind at least twelve times a day, because I got it. I fucking got it. When Robert died, Evie changed. She used to be wild and free, still shy, but with the sweetest dusting of rose on her cheeks, and yet so adventurous and courageous. Then she preferred crying under her sheets over skipping rocks along the river. It pained me to see the shift, so I made a vow to keep her afloat—to hold her head above the water when the waves got too choppy.

If she cried, I held her.

If she wanted to be alone, I’d sit outside her door.

If she wanted a distraction, I’d put on her favourite movies and watch her as she twitched in her sleep beside me.

But here?

Here, she didn't have any support.

She didn't have me or Peter to chase the demons away.

She’d been doing it all by herself for years.

And I could only imagine how tough that had been. I wanted to take her away from here, but I wasn't sure how to yet. I closed my eyes and rested my head against the brick wall behind me, the fucking chains clinking above me while my stomach growled angrily, demanding food.

Evie had sporadically snuck downstairs and fed us leftovers from the meals she cooked over the past few days, but it wasn't enough. Not that I blamed her.

Christopher groaned in his sleep beside me, and I turned my head to glance at him. We’d gotten closer over the past few days. He was a great guy, even if he would fall asleep in the middle of a conversation, leaving me alone with the darkness and the fear I was trying desperately to smother. My arms had gone numb, and there was a constant ache in my bones. But I wasn't even concerned about that.