Page 38 of Bittersweet Revenge

“Okay, as you wish.”

We drove to the cemetery in companionable silence. Once there, I let out a sigh of relief when I saw the Aston Martin parked across the street.

“How did you know?” Archie asked, clearly impressed.

I shrugged. “Caleb thinks only his brother cared for him unconditionally.”

“Based on the way you’re looking out for him now, I would say he is wrong to think that. Isn’t he, sister?”

“Maybe,” I admitted, keeping my eyes on the wrought-iron gate of the entrance. “You can go now.” I turned toward him. “Please, I needed to do this alone. I’ll have to drive him home anyway.”

“Esme, I don't think you should yet.”

“Archie, trust me. I know what I'm doing. I wouldn’t put his life or mine in danger, but if you come with me, he will close up.”

Archie sighed, looking behind me, his mouth twisted with indecision.

“I need to do this, Archie,” I insisted. “He saved my life.”

He nodded. “Fine, but call me if you need anything at any time.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Don’t make me regret this, Esme.”

I smiled at him, leaning down on the seat to kiss his cheek. “I won’t, brother of mine.”

He hesitated one more second, detailing my face as if he was looking for something before agreeing. He finally turned in his seat again, and I knew that I had won.

“Just call me when you get home?”

“Promise.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek soundly. No matter how bad things were, or how my life changed, I would do it all over again for the love of my brother. This was such a nice feeling, this powerful sibling bond that hadn’t even existed a few months ago. Now I could hardly imagine a life without Archie in it.

I entered the cemetery by the small side door. An unforgiving gush of frigid wind reminded me that we were still very much in the heart of winter.

I tightened my red cashmere coat around me and looked up at the heavy grey sky. Snow was definitely on the way.

I sighed, making my way to the hill where Theo’s grave lay. It was a secluded, quiet area close to a weeping willow. How fitting.

The cemetery was quite deserted except for an old man holding a single red rose in his hand, hunching against a grave, his pain so profound. I couldn’t help but glance at the date of death when I passed the grave. Four years. Yet his pain looked so raw, so new. Was that what it was like to lose the love of your life?

Without invitation Caleb’s face flashed in my mind. I faltered. Caleb was not the love of my life. He was an angry young man hell-bent on torturing me.

Please Esme, don’t make that mistake. Don't get in any deeper with that broken man.My train of thought was interrupted when I finally spotted Caleb. I stopped a few feet from the grave, remaining unseen.

He was sitting beside the grave, his back leaning against the tombstone, head back, eyes closed. One leg was stretched out, the other folded at the knee. His arm rested on it as he precariously held the half-empty bottle of whiskey. He was only wearing a thin jacket; he had to be freezing. I looked more closely at his face. Even with his eyes closed, he looked tense. His face was so much paler than usual, his pursed lips taking on a little taint of blue.

“What do you want, Esmeralda?” He asked with a sigh, his eyes still closed.

I frowned. “How?” I asked out loud, walking closer to him now. The paleness of his skin was even more striking. I was no specialist, but hypothermia couldn’t be far off.

“The wind… I could smell you.”

He opened his blue eyes. They looked paler somehow, with the slight haze of intoxication, a haze I knew very well after seeing it so many times in Luke’s eyes.

“What are you doing here, Caleb?”

He gave me a small smile, but it lacked its usual bitterness; it was just sad… So weary it made me miss the bitter ones. “It’s a good place to be haunted.”

---