Page 85 of A Light in the Darkness
“Yeah,” I swallow past the lump that suddenly feels like it’s lodged itself in my throat. “I guess they do.”
She’s quiet again as I dole out our midnight snack, watching with the slightest hint of anxiety pulling her lips downward.
“If you don’t like it, I can make you soup.” I promise her.
Taissa nods nervously, swirling the fork through her mountain of potatoes, and then her eyes flicker to me as I eat mine. I don’t have much of an appetite, honestly. Elaine’s dinner was delicious and I ate as much as I could, and while that was hours ago, I’m not hungry. But even cooking something so simple has been a good distraction from the restless energy I couldn’t get rid of.
“It’s not the pinnacle of fine food,” I tell her, savoring the melt in my mouth. “But it’s a good comfort food.”
That entices her to at least try, and when she does, it takes her by surprise. Her eyes even flutter a little as she moans, and I try not to laugh, but I fail. She doesn’t seem bothered when her eyes open again, though, after a moment of savoring her first taste of something other than soup. I wonder how long she’s been without teeth—at fifteen, your wisdom teeth haven’t even come in yet.
“It’s so good.”She whispers, in awe.
I can’t help myself—I chuckle again. “You’re going to have to keep this our secret, or else I think Elaine will be jealous that you think me such a fabulous chef.”
That gets a real laugh out of her. She tosses her head back, snorts, and then covers her mouth, embarrassed. When I only grin at her, she eases a little, and we eat in comfortable silence for a while.
She speaks out of the blue, when our plates are empty and our stomachs are full, and it pulls me from a haze I didn’t realize I was in. I can tell by the way she’s speaking that she must have been thinking about it for a while before she decided to voice it.
“It’s funny, isn’t it?”
“Hmm?” I blink, trying to figure out if I missed something she’d said previously. “What is?”
“How you’re afraid of the dark,” she whispers, like she doesn’t want to betray my secret to the dishes in the cupboards. “And I’m afraid of the light.”
Chapter fifty
Remy
I’ve never watched a woman sleep until the day I had Claire in my bed during her recovery from their trafficking attempt. It was weird, how I couldn’t bring myself to look away from her for long, how I almost feared she would stop breathing, or that she’d disappear if I had my back to her too long, but I didn’t question it.
I’ve spent plenty of time watching her sleep this past week, since she hasn’t done much else. But watching her now, something about her is different. The muscles beneath her smooth skin are more relaxed, her brows aren’t pulled together the slightest bit, and she doesn’t clutch the sheet to her chest the way I’ve seen her do every day since she seized on us in the hospital.
She looks… peaceful. So peaceful that I don’t dare move.
I’m sure it wasn’t intentional, but at some time in the night, she moved toward me. Her fingers are splayed across my chest, her body tucked against mine. It feels right, in a way that nothing has in years… not since I’ve been able to understand just how depraved the world around us is.
Claire is a little bit of heaven in the hell I’ve been condemned to, and I don’t think anyone would blame me for holding so tight to it. I’ve been stupid in my attempts to deny myself, to deny her. I thought I couldn’t have her because others needed me but isn’t that the whole point of a relationship? Pretty sure it’s even in the vows somewhere…“Forsaking all others”.
But I’m not the only one who feels this way. Kent has already made that vow, and his wife was taken from him. Weknow where she is now, and I owe it to him to help him get her back. He didn’t leave me when it was Claire, so I won’t leave him now.
I stay still as long as I possibly can, afraid that shattering the moment will also shatter her peace. I know it’s been hard-won, little by little. When I finally slip away from her, I hate myself for leaving.
I hate Rich more for being entirely too chipper when I walk into the industrial kitchen to find him eating from a pot of mashed potatoes on the stove.
“Morning.” He grins around a mouthful of food as I head to the coffee maker.
“You’re cooking in Elaine’s kitchen?” I grumble, knowing that my housekeeper is going to be pissed if he makes a mess. Never mind the fact that he made mashed potatoes at eight a.m. before she even rose for the day. With that thought in mind, I make the maximum amount of coffee the pot can hold, hoping I don’t fuck it up this time.
“Not me. They’re cold.” Rich shrugs, unbothered, and shovels another spoonful into his mouth.
I shake my head, scrubbing my hand over my face to try and chase away the last of my irritation.
“So, what’s your game?” I ask him, when I open my eyes to find him scraping the rest of the food from the bottom of the pot. He glances at me, confused, before putting the pan into the sink and rinsing it clean. When he turns back to face me, there’s a crinkle between his brows.
“My game?”
“Yeah. Your game. I’m done with this vigilante shit. I was looking for revenge, but I found something better. I know Kent already told you I’m not going to keep doing this, which is why you iced me out yesterday. I’ll help him recover his wife.”
