Page 73 of Blood Ties
He jerks his head upwards. “Upstairs.”
“She’shere?” I frown.
“Yeah. In the attic.”
That’s... weird. But not as weird as the fact that I haven’t heard her voice or caught a glimpse of a woman since I arrived here. “Sorry, I just— I haven’t heard her around the house, is all I mean.”
“She stays in her room.” He pauses. “She’s not... well.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say, automatically. But there’s a twinge of discomfort in my belly, a gut instinct that something isn’t right.She’s in the attic. She doesn’t leave her room.“Is she, um...? How long has she been sick? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he says, a little too quickly. “I mean she’s not... physically sick. It’s more...” He grimaces, points at his temple. “In her head.”
“Oh.” I bite my lip to stop myself from saying anything more. It’s not my business. Not my place.
“She’s been that way for a long time,” Kai says, picking at a hole in my blanket. “Since I was a kid. I bring her food, take care of her. She can’t really look after herself.”
That knot in my gut tightens, swells. An even worse realization is dawning on me. “Oh,” I say. Without meaning to, I look at the food wrappers on the mattress beside me. The manacle locked around my wrist.
Kai follows my gaze. His eyes widen. “Oh, no,” he says. “I mean she’s not... no. She’s not like you.”
I pause, trying to think of something to say, but nothing comes to mind. The silence stretches out.
“She’s not,” Kai repeats, insistent.
“No, yeah, I wasn’t trying to imply anything,” I say. “Sorry. We don’t have to talk about her if it’s making you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine,” he says. But there’s a crease between his brows, and his gaze keeps drifting back to my shackled wrist. After a moment, he clears his throat and sits up. “I should go check on her, though, actually. I’ve been here a while.”
“Of course.” I lean in to kiss him, but he turns without seeming to realize that’s what I’m going for. My lips glance over his cheek, and we both pause. Awkward. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, trying to smooth the moment over.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, but it’s almost like he doesn’t hear me at all.
I chew my lip as I watch him walk up the stairs, and pull my almost-forgotten plate of food onto my lap. But even as I finally fill my empty stomach, the thought I’ve been trying to suppress finally rises to the surface of my mind: he didn’t say it back. I told him I loved him a dozen times, and he never once said it back to me.
?Chapter Thirty-Six
