Page 10 of Love Me in the Dark
It’s the least I can do. Dad’s probably passed out by now, and Tristan is staying with another family—Rebecca’s orders. She doesn’t want him to be around Leona. He might ask questions. She wouldn’t want that.
Without a word, I join her again, gathering her up in my arms after tying her ankle to the foot of the bed. She curls up, and I curl myself around her, protecting her the only way I can for as long as I can. “Go to sleep,” I whisper, and she sighs, snuggling against me.
It isn’t long before her breath slows and evens out. She must have been exhausted if it was so easy for her to fall asleep. I can only imagine after everything she’s been through.
Me? Something tells me I won’t get a wink tonight. I can’t even close my eyes. There’s too much guilt weighing on me, making me curse myself for not being strong enough to save her from what I know is coming.
I don’t deserve to sleep.
6
ELIJAH
It’s no surprise when the church bells start to ring, reminding us of where Rebecca and William expect us to be. The sun rose a while ago, and I watched it through the window. I was right. There was no sleeping last night.
My eyes burn, and my head feels like it’s packed with cotton, but I get up anyway because I still have things to do. Appearances that must be kept up, if only for Tristan’s sake. He could come back home at any minute to wash up for church, and I have to be ready for him. I know Dad won’t be.
“Go back to sleep,” I whisper to Leona when she stirs. “I’ll be back.”
She mumbles something—I don’t think she really woke up, only reacted to me getting up from the bed.
That’s good. Let her sleep. While she’s asleep, she’s away from all of this. It’s the only escape she has now.
I’m surprised to see Dad’s bedroom door open and his bed empty, but it all makes sense when I find him passed out on the couch downstairs with a half-empty whiskey bottle spilled on thefloor. He must have gone downstairs for more once what he was drinking earlier ran out. Enough is never enough.
“Dad.” I shake him harder than I need to, knowing he’ll have a hangover after everything he consumed. So what if I caused him a little extra pain? How much pain has he brought us?
He opens one bleary eye and glares up at me. “What?”
“The bells are ringing. And Tristan will be home soon to get ready for church. Try to pull yourself together.” I pick up the bottle and take it to the kitchen, then bring back a dish towel to mop up what he spilled on the floor. All he does is sit up and hold his head in his hands, groaning and muttering in misery.
At least he perks up a little when Tristan comes through the door. “Let me go upstairs and get dressed,” Tristan says, and as always, the words spill out one on top of each other. He always talks so fast, like he’s in a hurry. All that energy makes me jealous right now since my body hates me for not giving it any rest last night.
“Better hurry up. We don’t want to be late.” He’s the reason I’m doing this. I need to remember that.
“You better take him today,” Dad mutters, rubbing his temples. The sight of him makes me sick. This is all his fault.
“What, you can’t get it together long enough to sit through services? How’s that going to look? You being one of the elders and everything.” I can’t afford any extra attention. It’s bad enough Leona’s here. I don’t need the rest of us being under a microscope.
“We can’t leave her alone. What if something happens, and she’s tied to the bed? A fire, something like that?”
He might as well be made from glass; he’s that easy to see through. “Do you really think you should be left alone with her?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You weren’t that drunk last night—yet,” I remind him, and I can’t help but smirk when he winces. “You know exactly whatI’m talking about. If there is so much as a scratch on her, Rebecca won’t be able to get as much money as she’s counting on. And you know how unhappy that’s going to make her.”
He hates that I’m right. He hates that his son can see through him. I don’t really care. So long as he’s out of here and away from her, he can think whatever he wants.
He drags himself upstairs and washes up while I check on Tristan in his room. “I’m going to hang back today,” I tell him. “I’m not feeling well.” He has no idea what I’ve planned, of course. How this is our last day at New Haven. The last time he’ll ever see his friends here. One day he’ll understand. He’ll even come to understand why Dad can’t come with us.
I run a hand over his curly, dark hair and force myself to grin. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get home.”
He rolls his eyes and blows out a sharp breath. “It’s boring.”
Now I don’t bother grinning as I crouch in front of him and take him by the shoulders. “Make sure nobody knows you feel that way.”
“Oh, I know.” It’s the way he says it, how he scowls, that reminds me of what I’m doing. Why I’m doing it. He shouldn’t be so aware that something’s wrong. I doubt he could put it into words if I asked him to. He feels it, though, and that’s enough.
