Page 127 of A Silence So Divine

“You’re staying, too.”

Eden blanches.“I have to go.”

Cecil gives one firm shake of his head, offering little room for negotiation.

“There’s plenty of us for the raid. Once we have the upper hand, we’ll return for the rest of you.”

He inclines his head to someone behind us, and we both turn to find Veda approaching.

Narrowing my eyes, I turn back to my brother and grit my teeth.“I can help. I’m stronger now.”

Cecil’s eye twitches. His gaze dips to my mouth for only a second. I catch it all the same.

“I won’t risk it.”

I raise my hands to argue, but Cecil steps forward and grips me by shoulders. His gaze is intense as he leans in. His lips move, and I follow the shapes to distinguish his words.

“Me and you,” he says.

My chest gives a familiar ache, and I’m transported back to that night all those years ago.

After he had gathered me from the floor, Cecil meticulously cleaned my busted lip with what was left in an old water bottle and a strip of tattered t-shirt. It always stunned me that throughout the whole incident, it was my brother that couldn’t stop weeping. I never shed a tear. Not then, nor any of the other times my father struck me.

“Me and you,”he had told me.“We’ll always protect each other. No matter what. Me and you.”

I’ve lost the fight. When I nod, Cecil’s shoulders lower as he visibly relaxes. He begins to step back, but hesitates. One palm closes around the back of my head, and in one swift motion, heyanks me forward. In a rare display of affection, Cecil presses his lips to my forehead.

As soon as there’s contact, it’s gone again. It’s so unlike him, that the doubt I’ve been suppressing wriggles free. His confidence is waning. He’s not sure he’ll make it back.

Cecil may not be gentle, or affectionate, but I’m as sure now as I was that night on our bedroom floor.

My brother loves me, and he would give his life for mine.

I can only hope it doesn’t come to that.

Fifty Three

Eden

“Ihave to go,”I repeat, desperation knitting my brow. The beat of my heart is no less than a jack hammer against my ribcage.

Cecil’s grin doesn’t reach his eyes as he closes the distance between us. When his palm finds my jaw, it takes a conscious effort not to nuzzle into the comfort.

“You’ll stay,” he murmurs. His face is severe, demanding obedience, but his caress borders on cajoling.

“Please—”

He grips my wrist, cutting the sign short. The world disappears as he brings my palm to his chest. Instinctively, my fingers curl, digging into the black cotton that covers his chest. As if I might yank his heart free and keep it safe in my fist.

I’m vaguely aware of watchful eyes, but I’m drunk off of his touch, oblivious to questioning murmurs.

“I won’t be gone long,” he promises. The crack of his voice betrays his confident persona. Our bodies behave like a call and response, and my own lip trembles. “I need you to protect the camp. Can you do that?”

It’s an excuse. Those staying behind are doing so because they’re deemed unfit to fight. But I could never tell him no. I’m angry, but I agree with a dip of my chin.

“Good.”

Desperation trumps apprehension, and I rise onto my toes. When I press my lips to his, he stiffens. For a moment, his lips are tight against my own, and I worry I’ve made a mistake. But then, firm arms wind around my waist and tug me to close. Kiss after kiss, I struggle to keep my composure.