Page 31 of Dual
That means everything's getting back to normal.
At least that's what I thought before walking into the closet and finding this.
"You could join me in here, you know?" Domhnall calls from the shower, his voice carrying through the steam, husky and inviting.
My heart jolts in automatic response to his voice. Even when I try to keep my feelings measured, Domhnall unravels me with just a few syllables. Before coming back to him, I thought I was the calculated, even-tempered one andshewas the overly emotional wreck. Ha.
I glance over my shoulder at the steam billowing from the ensuite bathroom. The sound of water hitting the tile fills the space with its steady rhythm, and through the frosted glass, I can just barely make out his silhouette—broad, strong,safe. My sanctuary and my sanity.
Does he know every time they sleep together, I wake up to the evidence of itstillimprinted on my skin? Do I want him to know?
"Maybe next time, love!" I call back, forcing my voice to sound light and composed, though my thoughts are anything but. Usually, I try to linger in the sensation of waking up withmy body thoroughly loved, trying to imagine how it felt. As if I can feel his hands like they must have been on me, trailing fire across my skin. Branding me as his.
But right now, all I can do is look back at the laundry basket and shove the dark clothes deeper in the hamper, burying them as if that will fix anything. As if secrets can disappear just by covering them up. I should know better.
Mads. She's reckless and selfish. She leaves me to clean up her mess without a care in the world. She's clearly up to something she's not supposed to be. Again.
Fuck, I don't have the luxury of spiraling. Not right now. I yank out my shoes from the back of the closet until I find them—the black hiking boots Domhnall bought for me. They were new, pristine, before a few weeks ago.
I flip them over.
Dammit. The soles are even more scuffed now, dirt caked in the ridges, telling stories of places I've never been.
My stomach clenches. How the hell did she have time to fuck Domhnall as vigorously as it feels like she did andstillsneak out somewhere? The timeline doesn't make sense, but Mads has always been good at making the impossible happen.
I check our shared journal, heart thumping with apprehension. There's only a single line entry?—
Don't tell Donny. If you do, I'll tell him your secret.
I slam the journalshut.
Bitch.
She's literally taking my body out on joyrides, God knows where, doing God knows what. And now she's threatening me. Holding my own secret over my head.
I grab a fistful of my hair and bring it to my nose, inhaling sharply. No hints of smoke. No foreign cologne. Just the lingering hint of Domhnall's scent, cedar and something uniquely him.
At least I can rest in the fact that she's obsessed with him. If anything, she's as desperate for his attention as I am. Even more so, maybe.
So where the hell did she go last night?
I'd go to Donny's office to pull up the security footage, but of course, there'd be nothing. Just like last time. She covers her tracks well. The Librarian trained us both, after all. Not just Domhnall. Our monster of a father made sure we knew how to hide, how to lie, and how to not leave traces that we'd ever been there.
I heft the laundry basket and carry it to the laundry room. If I can't get answers, I can at least erase the part of the night I can't explain. I'll wash away the evidence like Lady Macbeth trying to clean blood from her hands.Out damn spot. I may not have gotten to go to college, but I did get an e-reader and read everything I could get my hands on, new and old.
The scent of detergent and warm linen wraps around me as I shove the clothes into the washing machine. I pour in an extra dose of washing liquid, pressing the button with moreforce than necessary. The drum rumbles to life, swallowing up the evidence.
I brace my hands on the edge of the machine, breath uneven.
"You were just a terrified kid following orders," I whisper to myself, the mantra Dr. Ezra taught me.
But the past laughs at me in a voice that sounds far too much like Mads.What about the last few years? You weren't a kid anymore by then.
"Mads?" I whisper. "Is that you?"
Nothing. Just the hollow echo of my own voice.
I roll my eyes at myself. At her. I walk back to the kitchen, pausing for a second to listen, tracking Domhnall's movements.
