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I return to the office and sign the key back in, then go about the rest of my day. When I get back to the shed, dinner is ready. Noa has really embodied the claimed househusband name he has given himself. Cipher is telling him all about the machine he is rebuilding, and Noa keeps saying the wrong name for the parts, which gives Cipher a twitchy eye. Cave puts the biggest piece of chicken on my plate and watches me while I eat it.

I have spent weeks falling in love with these men, and it’s hard to believe that they are all lying to me.

Noa switches the conversation to Christmas, as he is already planning everything. He is helping Rue with the menu, and Leni has volunteered to help—apparently she and Noa talk at least once a day.

Cave has been assigned tree duty for the shed, and Noa wants it to be magical. Cipher talks about the lights he plans to rig up around the island in an interactive display.

“You’re quiet,” Noa says, knocking his knee into mine. “Nixie ran you into the ground today?”

“Long day, vendor stuff,” I hear myself say. It’s my first lie to them, and I hate it, but I need time to think.

Cave’s head comes up, and he looks at me across the table. “Tired,” I tell him, and I make myself smile as I reach across the table to squeeze his hand.

Once we finish eating, Cave picks me up and takes me to bed. The other two eventually join us, and I pretend to fall asleep, but I don’t. Instead, I lie there for hours, staring at the ceiling.

I’m sandwiched between them all, Cave’s heavy arm over me, Cipher at my back, and Noa’s foot hooked over mine. Held on every side, feeling the safest I ever have as I run through everything from that night onward. Rowan pointed a gun at me, and he was going to kill me. He did not bat an eyelid over it, and instead he shot Cipher. My brother was going to sell me out to Steedy to save his own ass. I struggle with that part a lot, that he would have sold his own sister to pay his debt. He hit me, plus add in the years of not being grateful that I saved his ass over and over again by working myself to the bone. I know exactly who my brother is—my internal conflict is not confused about that part.

But on the other hand, he is locked in a cell, and was made to listen to whatever happened to Steedy, which I do not want to think about. Weeks have passed and not one person has said anything to me. The lies and secrets make me feel like we are back to square one. I lived that life before coming here, and I never want to live it again. I thought all of this was over.

What Rowan has done in the past has no bearing on what they are doing to him now. One doesn’t cancel the other; both sides are wrong. Rowan’s harsh words ring through my head: “If you leave me down here, you’re one of them.”

Chapter Thirteen

Cave

What remains after love lets go?

What feeds the ground but can never grow again?

What does every fire eventually become?

Something is wrong with Valli’s frequency. I have no better word for it, but every person hums, and it’s something I learned to listen to before I hear anything they actually say. It helps me gauge their mood, and I read it automatically before anything else. Being able to tell the difference between a good day and a bad day is important. Noa hums loud and erratic, where Cipher is low and steady. Valli normally hums like the wind through my field, comforting me.

She said she was tired after a long day. Though her words were believable, underneath my girl was crackling like my cornfield before a storm—it doesn’t seem right.

I lie still all night with my arm over her, listening as she pretends to sleep. Her body doesn’t know how to lie. I wish I could doze, but I keep watch over her, waiting for whatever is coming. No matter what it is, I will be there.

Morning arrives too quickly, and as the sun comes up, Valli rises and makes us coffee. At her movement, we all get up and trail behind her, and I watch as she kisses Noa for too long, then stands behind Cipher at his workbench, her arms wrapped around him and chin resting on his shoulder.

Finally, she comes to me at the door. “Ask me one,” she says. “Before work. A riddle for the road.”

She has been doing this for the last few weeks. She thinks she is sly by getting me to talk to her under the guise of riddles.

I look down at her face, but what I want to ask of her I can’t. What is wrong? Who hurt you? Why does your hum sound like you want to leave us? But I can’t form the words for any of that because I will never let her leave. She belongs here with us.

“What do I hold with open hands?”

She reaches up and places her palm on my chest, and for a split-second her frequency rights itself.

“Me,” she replies with a smile.

Yet when she removes her hand, everything feels wrong again, and she moves past me and out the door. I watch her go and will myself to stay, but I know it’s pointless. So I follow behind her, far enough back that she doesn’t see me. I shadow her movements all day, keeping myself at a distance, though I’m not proud of spying on her.

She works, smiles at people, and signs off on paperwork. At lunch she doesn’t eat, simply moves her food around her plate. In the afternoon, she leaves the office and walks to the cemetery fence where she watches Noa for a while. He performs for her, digging and telling terrible jokes.

Valli laughs, but even that sounds wrong to my ears. Noa doesn’t seem to notice, but I do. Something is wrong with our girl. I have never had to be gentle with anyone before—if they had information I wanted, I scared it out of them. But not her, as Valli is not afraid of me.

By dinner she seems more herself, but her frequency is still not right. She does all the normal things—laughs at Noa’s stories, passes Cipher the salt before he asks, and eats her food. Valli has spent the day loving us hard, separately, which is not unusual but not quite right either.