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“Please, I can’t face him again. I need to get out of here.”
“Babe, Ryker doesn’t hold you responsible, and neither should you.”
Why did I have this need to protect this woman? She was everything I despised—fearful, untrustworthy, submissive, and thin as a railroad track. Christ, she was an utter mess.
But I also saw courage. That determined look in her eyes when she’d held my knife to her throat, daring me to kill her three weeks ago. That flicker of rebellion when I told her to come downstairs and eat. The problem was, she had so many issues from living in that place. Issues I might never comprehend or be able to help her with.
“Kilter?” Rayne’s voice quivered.
“What?” Nicer, asshole. “Yeah, babe,” I corrected.
“Can you tell Ryker that I had no choice? That I’m sorry he lost Hannah.”
“Shit.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Yeah, sure. But you don’t have to worry about him. He’s here, but contained in a private room. You won’t see him.”
There was no question she was hiding something. Whether anyone could reach the depths of her mind where she lay entombed, I had no fuckin’ idea. What I did know was I’d protect her from ever getting hurt again. I owed her that for leaving her behind the first time.
A niggling thought of Gemma rose, and I quickly pushed it aside. This wasn’t about my fucked-up past. Rayne had nothing to do with my failure to protect Gemma.
“Can I go upstairs now?” she asked.
I felt an ache in my chest, something I hadn’t felt in years. “This isn’t a prison.”
As soon as I let her go, she ran for the door. I wanted to bring her back, demand she stop hiding. Fuck. I wanted her to fight, damn it.
“She’s not eating,” I shouted as I paced the length of the library two days later.
It was Keir’s domain with floor-to-ceiling cherry bookshelves. A Persian carpet lay underneath the large oak desk in the corner of the room. A laptop was open on the polished surface next to a framed picture of Anstice and Finn. Keir sat in the leather swivel chair behind the desk, his eyes on the computer screen.
Anstice leaned up against the rolling ladder, hands clasped together and her foot resting on the last rail.
“Are you listening to me, damn it?”
“Yes, I heard you,” Keir said in a calm voice, a mere flick of his eyes toward me then back to the computer. “I’m sure the entire house heard you.”
“She ate nothing today. She shuffles the food around, but doesn’t eat. She needs to eat.” I slammed my fist into the door.
“Yes,” Keir replied, “but no one can force her, Kilter. Not even you.”
“Jesus Christ.” I had no recourse when it came to someone refusing to eat. I couldn’t very well shove food down her throat. I didn’t understand why she wasn’t eating. She should be diving into the food with the way she looked.
“Something else is going on,” Anstice said. “She could have an eating disorder. I don’t know, but she has some of the signs. There are many reasons why a person can develop one.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I retorted.
She pushed away from the ladder, walked over to the desk, and picked up a book, tossing it to me. “Read it.”
“I don’t want to read a fuckin’ book. I want answers.” I tossed the book on the chaise lounge. “Is she dying?”
Keir leaned back in his chair. “She’ll die if she continues to lose weight.”
I ran my hand through my hair. “So, what do we do?”
Anstice raised her brows. “Do you care enough to listen to anyone’s advice?”
“Of course I fuckin’ do.” I’d avoided listening to any of them since the day I stepped into this house, but this was Rayne’s life, and I was at a loss as to what to do.
“He’ll listen,” Keir said.
