Page 115
Spotting a side gate, I jogged toward it, fumbling with the latch until it swung open with a faint creak. I peered in through each window I passed, seeing an office or library of some kind in one, and then the kitchen in the other at the back of the house. There were some dirty dishes in the sink and a plate of half-eaten toast on the counter, but no other signs of life.
I found myself in a garden that was almost like a well-manicured jungle, teeming with ferns and flowers and bushes, an explosion of greens and pinks and blues and whites from the blooms bursting everywhere. There was a potting shed at the end next to a glass greenhouse, and the air felt warmer and heavier back here, like it was its own little ecosystem. A bumblebee flew lazily past my face, the air loud with the humming buzz of pollinators and crickets and birds chirping.
A pergola dripping with sweet-smelling flowers was positioned over the back door, which led into the kitchen. As I strode toward it, I saw a plump cat cleaning itself in a patch of sun on the kitchen floor. Its head jerked up as my shadow covered it, its face a little squashed and its white-grey fur looking soft and downy.
It stared at me, looking almost bored and extremely unimpressed, until I tried the door handle and found it unlocked. The cat hissed as I stepped inside, but didn’t move as it lay sprawled on the warm floor.
“Crossbody?” I called as I closed the door behind me, looking around. “It’s me. Uh, I’m in your house.”
There was no answer from anywhere in the house, so I walked into the hallway and took the stairs two at a time, peering around when I reached the landing. The bathroom directly ahead was empty, as were the two neatly decorated guest bedrooms. A third door led to what looked like a walk-in closet, the room smaller and lined with fitted wardrobes. The other door was closed.
I’d just started heading toward it when it cracked open, making my pulse leap. Then it was slowly pulled open wider, and my chest squeezed tight when I saw Crossbody.
He’d been crying. A lot. His eyes were red and puffy, lashes still wet and clumped together. His forehead and throat were splotchy, hair frizzy and unwashed. He was wearing an old shirt that was slipping off one shoulder and a pair of crumpled linen pants.
His mouth trembled when he saw me. My throat closing up, I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his neck, tugging him down to tuck his face against my throat as I cupped the back of his head. He smelled faintly of old sweat, like he hadn’t showered in a while.
“What’s wrong?” I asked roughly, my heart squeezing when I heard him take a shuddering breath as his arms came around me and clung on tight. “What’s happened?”
His voice was quiet and hoarse when he spoke, and it wobbled unsteadily like he was on the brink of crying again. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
I pulled back and cupped his face, my brow pulling hard into a frown. I was suddenly full of restless, redundant energy, wanting to destroy whoever or whatever had upset him.
“What’s wrong?” I repeated, swallowing when his chin wobbled and he blinked, fresh tears clinging to his long eyelashes.
“I have to leave.” He spoke in almost a whisper. My insides clenched up tight.
“What do you mean?” I asked, voice harsh.
He exhaled shakily and took a step back, wiping his cheeks. “I have to go back to Otherworld.”
I felt kind of sick. I already knew he didn’t mean a mere visit, because no matter how shitty his mom might have been, Crossbody was too calm and composed to react this strongly to an uncomfortable but brief trip to see his family. Which meant…
“For good?” I croaked.
He nodded, turning to walk back into the bedroom. I followed, my gaze sweeping quickly over the unmade and rumpled bed, the single stained-glass lamp illuminating the space, and the open suitcase on the floor, already half-filled with clothes. I spotted my black sweater on the top of the pile, and for a split second, I struggled to breathe.
“Why?” I asked weakly. “Has something happened?”
“My mother turned up here on Friday.” His voice was dull and lifeless now as he kept his head bent, pulling more clothes out of the dresser. “She said I have to go back.”
“Why?” I asked hoarsely.
“Because that’s what she wants.”
My hands clenched into fists. “Do you even want to?”
Crossbody shook his head, and I saw his chin trembling again. “No. But I have to.”
“Why?” I asked again, a sharp ache shooting through my chest.
“Because if I don’t, she’ll…” He sniffed wetly and wiped at his face again. “It’s just what she wants. And she always gets her way.”
“Stop packing,” I snapped, striding forward to take the clothes from him and dump them on the dresser. “If you don’t want to go, you’re not going. She can’t force you to move back there, Crossbody.”
He didn’t say anything, just stood there with his head lowered and his hair hanging limp in his face. Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I gently took his hands and turned him to face me.
“Please don’t go,” I heard myself croak. His face crumpled, fingers trembling against mine.
