Page 30 of A Silence So Divine

Cecil smirks and turns, leaving the two of us behind. I look to Creed for reinforcement. His smile takes up most of his face.

“Best Christmas ever.”

Creed was right. This is the best Christmas ever.

We’re sprawled in front of the fireplace again, but the warmth isn’t only on my skin. It’s in my brain, in my veins, in my soul. I may never be cold again.

“Should we dance?”Creed asks, lifting his head only to plop it back down into my lap. I push myself into a sitting position so that I can meet his eyes. The world tilts on its axis, and I blink hard to put it right again.

“No… I like sitting on this rug.”I tell him earnestly, smoothing a hand over the ornate rug beneath us.

Creed reaches up and traces a finger down the slope of my nose.“I like sitting on you.”

That might be the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. A horrendous sound comes from either my throat or my nose. A stifled snort to the side tells me that his brother found it amusing, too. Cecil hides his laughter behind a glass of amber liquid. Whiskey, they called it. I tried to take a sip, but promptly spit it back into the cup. Cecil replaced it with a glass of something sweet. The simple act of kindness made my chest ache.

The man is infuriating, making me endure such intense feelings. Even watching him now makes my pulse thrum and my stomach clench with anxiety. And… something else. Indefinable.

The lights are off, only firelight illuminating our surroundings. The warmth of the flames make Cecil’s olive skin even richer, and his dark hair has an auburn hue that I’ve never noticed. His cheeks are perfectly smooth—he must shave frequently. I can almost see it, the way the razor would caress his skin. So close to breaking the skin, skimming the surface…

A clammy palm on my cheek snaps me back to reality and I swallow heavily. My mouth is suddenly very dry. How long had I been staring at him?

“Are you okay?”Creed asks from my lap, his eyes glassy and eyelids low. He’s had quite a bit more to drink than I have, insisting he wasn’t as much of a “light-weight” as I am.

I’d say he doesn’t handle his alcohol as well as he thinks he does.

“I think I'm thirsty."

“I’ll go get you some water.” Cecil interjects, standing from the couch.

As soon as he’s out of sight, Creed and I snicker for no reason at all.

He abruptly stops, twisting his neck to face me head on.“Do you believe in heaven?”In any other situation I might think he’s being silly, but the look on his face suggests otherwise.

The answer to that is complicated, and I don’t have the capacity to think about it. I simply respond with, “Sometimes.”

Creed nods emphatically. “Me, too. I wonder if we’ll get in.”

I’ve known from a young age that I’m destined for Hell. There’s no absolving my sins. They’re soul deep—etched into me until the day I blink out of existence.

I don’t tell him that.

“You will,”I say instead. This makes him grin.

“Let’s make a promise,”he suggests.“If it’s real, and we get there someday, we’ll find each other. Even if it’s decades apart.”

I’m not sure if it’s his words or the poison in my stomach, but I might be sick.

Forcing a tight-lipped smile, I graze my fingers through the soft locks at the top of his head. I nod once.

“Say it.”His eyes are suddenly sad.“Promise me.”

Fingertips feathering down his freckled cheek, I pull my hands back to respond.

“I’ll always look for you, Creed. Always.”

The sorrow lifts from his features, and he closes his eyes.“Good,” he signs.

In my peripheral vision, Cecil waits with my water. Our gazes clash, and his expression mirrors exactly how I feel inside. A resolved agony.