Page 77 of Drowning in Darkness

I shrug. “As long as it takes for them to arrest Burnside or for him to lose interest in me. Until then, I’m sequestered in a lodge with Grumpy Pants and the local wildlife to judge me.”

Eleanor’s head lifts behind Hunter, and she catches my eye in a silent question. She sees far more than people give her credit for.

“Don’t get into trouble,” Hunter warns.

I place my fingers against my chest. “Me? Trouble?”

“It’s your middle name.”

“And yours is Benedict, but I’m not judging.”

He scowls at the reminder. It’s always been a button to push since he hates it.

“How is my brother?” Eleanor asks as she moves next to Hunter and tilts the camera more toward her.

I glance around the empty lodge with a frown. “He’s...” Silent. Frustrating. Suffering. Moody. “Okay.”

Suddenly, we’re on the move.

“What are you doing?” Hunter snaps.

“Girl talk,” she calls out as she takes the camera down the familiar hallway to their bedroom and closes the door. “Go somewhere private, Stephanie.”

I groan and grab the laptop, retreating to the privacy of my bedroom.

“Now spill,” she demands as she gets comfy on her bed.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You just got your life and freedom back only to have it ripped away from you again. Tell me how you are really doing without the fear of your lovely brother mounting a rescue mission.”

My eyes flutter closed as I replay how my lips tingled with the promise of a kiss. “Frustrated,” I confess. “Restless.”

“Do you have anything to help?” she asks.

I flip my eyes open to check she’s asking what I think she’s asking. There are no hidden meanings when it comes to Eleanor though. It’s something I love about her. I don’t have to spend a stupid amount of time trying to figure out what she means. Life is hard enough without that crap.

“Not with me, no. Your brother packed my bag in haste, which then got left at the safe house when we were attacked.”

She narrows her eyes as she concentrates on something on the screen. Tapping ensues. “Your packages will be arriving at the drop box tomorrow. I’ve added some things.”

“What kind of things?”

She sighs. “The kinds of things to the edge off the frustration you’re feeling when all you’ve got is my brother.”

Her brother is the source of the frustration. Is it strange to be taking girl advice from my soon to be sister-in-law? Maybe. But then, I’ve never really had a girlfriend I can talk to.

“Thank you,” I settle on. I can see she’s trying to help, and Eleanor is all about the practicalities.

“Just don’t,” she pauses as she seems to gather her thoughts. “Don’t fall for him.”

I blink but don’t play dumb. “Okay.”

“He’s not who you need.”

How would she know what I need? Every woman is different, every healing journey individual, and the kind of things I fantasize about don’t make a lot of sense to the outside world. I’ve explored these desires in therapy and been reassured over and over again that everything I feel is valid and are not as unusual as most would think. Plus, so long as it’s legal and, above all, consensual, whose freaking business is it, anyway?

“Stephanie?”