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“I only care about how you feel.” He brushed the pad of his thumb against her wet cheek. “We could always come back here when it’s no longer so difficult.” Time was supposed to heal all wounds, right?
She licked her lips. “I think it’d hurt Mr. E.”
“How many times has he been back here since May Eolenfeld passed?”
“Once, that day you saw him.”
“Then he’ll understand.”
Clary sighed. “Let me think about it.”
He nodded, and they continued forward in silence.
“You don’t trust me to remove her stitches without trying to kill her?” Elton asked when Seth and Clary got to the threshold of his room.
Seth was sure Elton wouldn’t kill Clary.
Kind of sure.
Clary gave his hand a squeeze. “I’ll be fine.”
Would she? Why was his brother trying to get Clary alone, anyway?
* * *
Clary sat on the hardwood floor across from Elton. Perhaps it was just the lighting of the room, but his olive-green eyes appeared to darken a shade.
Or maybe it was because he’d tipped his head down, and the shadows around his eyes just created that illusion.
“You should get more rest.”
Elton blinked once, as if he was caught off-guard by what she’d said.
“Sorry. None of my business.” She extended her hand, palm up, toward him. “So what do you want to talk about?”
Elton’s gaze flitted over to the door.
“I doubt he’s hanging around to eavesdrop.”
“You’ll tell him what I say anyway, right?”
She tipped her head to the side. “I don’t know.”
Elton arched a brow, but didn’t look up at her. Instead, he started working on removing the stitches in her palm.
“I don’t believe in keeping secrets, but not everything has to be said, right?” Clary shrugged. “So basically, it depends on what you tell me.”
“And you’ll see if it benefits you to tell Seth.”
She sighed dramatically. “Elton.” She waited for him to look at her since she wasn’t interested in speaking to his short, wavy, reddish-brown hair. “I’m not trying to hurt Seth or any of your brothers.”
“So you say.” Both Elton and Zane had a hardness in their looks. Both had a strong squarish jawline, but Elton’s hardness came from his eyes and the way his lips always seemed set in a partial scowl.
“Do you hate me so much just because I know Mr. E?”
“You don’t just know him, do you?” he asked. “His wife left you a mansion like this.”
Clary nodded slowly. “Why do you always take the Christmas shift at work?”
