Page 5 of When Death Whispers

The nickname hits like ice, like a clawed hand gripping my spine. I go rigid, warmth bleeding out of me in an instant as I jerk away from him. The shadows in my memory curl tighter, darker, whispering his voice over Hudson’s.

My sweet Snow Pea…

I feel Hudson tense as he realizes something’s wrong, confusion softening the heat in his eyes.

“Snow Pea. Parker?—”

“Don’t call me that.”

My voice comes out cold, clipped, and before he can say anything else, I twist the knob behind me and slip into the bathroom, the door creaking open like it’s protesting the abrupt end between us.

I catch a glimpse of his expression as I close it—surprise, concern, something dangerously close to regret.

Then I’m alone again, the door locked, my back pressed against it as I try to breathe.

Dammit, Parker.

There’s a reason you don’t let people in.

I’d almost forgotten how easily charm can sneak under your skin, how quickly warmth can feel like safety. Hudson is too persistent, too genuine. Too good.

And I… I’m too broken to risk wanting him.

I shove off the door and head for the sink, scrubbing the flour and icing from my hands like I can wash away the blush still clinging to my skin. Then I splash my face with cold water, trying to settle the storm rising in my chest.

It helps a little. Not enough.

I keep my head down, avoiding the mirror like I always do. But tonight, something makes me glance up.

And there I am—haunted.

My reflection looks like it belongs to a ghost. My blue-gray eyes are pale and wide, almost colorless in the flickering light. My skin is so washed out I probablycouldpass for a ghost, and my silver-white hair only adds to the effect.

Dad used to joke that I was born scared of the world—that my hair turned white with fear before I could even speak. The doctors called it vitiligo. They gave it a name, a file, a shrug. But I’ve never believed that.

Not really.

Because I know the truth.

Hefeeds on me. On my fear, my life, my nearness to death. Every time he finds me—every time he gets close—I lose a little more. A little more color. A little more strength. A little moreme.

There was a time I thought I wouldn’t survive the next visit. Until I came to Creek Haven. Until I started breathing again without the weight of his shadow pressed to my spine.

Here, he’s stayed away.

And for the first time in forever, I almost feel… safe.

Almost.

Which is why I keep people at arm’s length. Why I don’t let anyone slip past the walls I’ve built. Why I won’t let Hudson in, no matter how much I want to.

I dry my hands and force the thoughts away, locking them back in the box they always try to crawl out of. With a sigh, I leave the bathroom, heading to the fridge. I grab my half-wilted salad and sink into the closest chair, trying to ignore the weight of everything that’s been lingering.

Hudson is back out with Betty and I’m relieved. Not because I don’t want him near me—but because I’m not sure I could keep my walls intact much longer.

I scroll through my book with one hand and pick at my food with the other, hoping the words will distract me, even if just for a few minutes.

Then—

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