Sullivan’s blue and brown eyes and his half smile flash into my mind, and I bite my lip. “Sully.”
Momma pauses before softly continuing. “When she’s having a terrible day, the worst day of her life that makes herso mad and sad at how unfair it is, whose shoulder does she want to cry on?”
“Sully’s,” I whisper. My inner self is in his arms now as he holds me close. He’s never pushed me away, and his hugs always make me feel safe.
“And when she’s told that the most special person in her life might be leaving, who does she think that special someone is?”
There’s only one answer, and it’s the same as before.
It’s always Sullivan, and I think it always has been.
I groan, and when I force my eyes open, Momma’s gentle, understanding gaze is waiting for me. “What will Papa think?” I don’t want him to be hurt or mad.
“It may take a little getting used to, but I think your papa will understand. He loves the both of you very much, and if this makes you happy, that’s what he’ll want for you.”
What will all the people in Hope’s Stand say? Will they care that Sully and I aren’t related by blood? Or does it even matter what they think, because who are they to have any bearing on my happiness when I don’t even see them every day? Drained from the weight of it all, I rest my head against the tree.
“I’ll leave you to your thoughts, but if you want to talk again, I love you and I’m here for you.” Momma kisses my cheek. “No matter what you choose, you’re still my daughter, and you’ll always have a home to come back to.”
I nod weakly and squeeze her hand. “I know. I love you, too.”
Scene 5
Emmaline, Age 18
The rest of the afternoon drags by with only my contemplations to keep me company, and I use the excuse of a headache to go to bed shortly after dinner. But my fitful sleep is disturbed in the early morning hours when I wake to pain lancing my chest. I swing my feet to the floor and try to catch my breath, but I know this feeling very well by now.
It’s what always happens when Sullivan has one of his bad dreams. I haven’t felt them since I learned he wasn’t my brother, but I don’t know if it’s because he didn’t have any more nightmares or if he stayed up all night to avoid them. And for me to feel it now, he must have gotten back home sometime in the night after I fell asleep. I need to go to him. Even if all we do is stare at each other in silence in the moonlight, I can’t let him suffer.
Not my Sully.
Throwing back my covers and praying my pounding heartbeats don’t wake anyone, I grab a robe and tiptoe to his bedroom door. “Sully?” I whisper as I ease inside. “Can I sleep with you?”
Silence.
Is he ignoring me? He never has before, even if to only grumpily tell me no, which I would then promptly disregard. I feel my way closer, careful not to step on him. But by the time I reach his spot by the wall, the only thing my feet have touched is the floor.
He’s not there.
A quick pat to the bed confirms it’s untouched.
Where is he?
I rub at my chest. The tightness is fading, but I still needto find him because I won’t sleep any more tonight until I know he’s all right. Decision made, I go back to my room for a lantern and my shoes. I don’t dare risk waking Papa by going out the front door, so my bedroom window it is. The protesting squeak it emits is tiny, but it seems a thousand times louder to me because of how quiet the house is. When no one comes to investigate, I slip into the darkness.
Only to promptly stumble and fall on my face. “Fucking hell,” I whisper in a very unladylike manner. “When did that hole get there?” I could swear it wasn’t there in the daytime!
Needing to be further away from the house before I light the lantern so no one takes notice of a floating light, I take slow and measured steps as my eyes adjust. If I were Sullivan and not in my bed, where would I be? Maybe past the tree line?
The darkness deepens as I approach the tree line, and the trees themselves look like menacing, hair giants as they block out the moon. I pause, heart beating like a drum. Now would probably be a good time for a light.
Or to turn back and maybe check out the barn first.
That seems a more likely place for him to be. I don’t know why I didn’t go there to begin with. “Because I’m a silly girl, that’s why,” I tell myself.
“A brave one, but definitely silly,” a deep voice agrees from close behind me.
I flail, dropping the lantern. A hand that isn’t mine comes around me and muffles a scream so pitiful that no one could possibly hear it as another hand—also not mine—pulls me back against a hard body.
