Page 184 of Dark Night of the Soul

Chapter 48 | Anna

We’d fallen into an easy rhythm. All of us had. It surprised me how normal could reassemble itself.

I found out quickly Ludwig was grumpy when he didn’t get his gourmet coffee first thing in the morning. Like the beans were the only thing standing between him and a felony. But aside from that, what was fantastic about him was that he knew all the local restaurants and brought the most delicious food. My favorite was a meatloaf sandwich with a name I could neither pronounce nor remember.

Ulrich was the ever-present calm voice of reason. Nothing rattled him. He preferred his coffee black, and he loved German beer and soft pretzels. Sometimes, when I couldn’t sleep, I’d catch him having a late-night snack of them. Sometimes, I’d join him. We didn’t always talk. We didn’t have to. That was nice. Not having to fill the silence.

And Kincade… well, he was stubborn and mouthy and getting his meds down his throat was like trying to give a cat a pill. He had claws. And they were sharp. We argued about that more than once.

And then after we’d argue, he’d give me a look that said I’m sorry in a language he refused to speak. Fine by me. I spoke that language fluently now. Both of us knew it would be a cold day in Hell before he said it out loud with words.

Two weeks had passed. My shoulder still pulled when I reached too high. The bruises at my throat had turned from deep purple to sickly green. And the back of my head where I’d smacked into the rack had reached a dull soreness. Progress. Everything was healing. Even me.

And every day I still flung open the French doors to the courtyard and stood in the doorway listening to the murmuring fountain. Smelling the sunbaked earthiness of the flagstone as it warmed. Hearing the faint twitter of birds. To my surprise, he never complained about that. He needed it, too. The light. The air. The reminder there was still beauty somewhere.

It was my diabolical plan to give him sun and fresh air. If he realized that, he never said. He indulged me. Which should have been my first clue he’d been planning something.

I was doing my normal doorway hover—half ritual, half compulsion—when I heard movement behind me. I turned to see him rising out of the bed, barefoot in gray sweatpants and a worn black t-shirt, walking toward me. I stiffened, resisted the urge to reach for him. He was a grown man. He didn’t need me to baby him.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t sound convinced. Neither was I. He sounded like he was trying to convince me.

I wondered for half a second if he read that in my mind or if I was that transparent. Who was I kidding? I was that transparent.

“Should you be walking?”

“No, but I’m doing it, anyway.”

He joined me in the doorway with one arm pressed against his side like he could hold himself together through sheer will. I looked up at him, apprehension rolling through me. Like any second he’d collapse. My heart was already braced for it.

But he didn’t.

His gaze was fixed on the courtyard. There was enough morning light that it glinted in his eyes, making them flicker from that muted green to blazing gold. A reminder that nothing about him was normal.

“You like it here,” he said, not looking at me.

I wanted to say something pithy and sharp but didn’t. “Yes.”

Because honestly? I didn’t like it. I loved it. It felt secluded. Away from prying eyes. And though I knew it was a ridiculous hope, and that peace was only a moment away from shattering, it felt like we were untouchable. I knew better. But for now, I’d pretend.

“You never go out there,” he said, looking down at me.

Oh. He’d been watching. He knew. Of course, he knew. He always knew.

“No.”

“Why not?”

I shrugged. Because I didn’t want to be more than ten steps away. Ten steps felt like a mile when you’ve already watched someone bleed out.

It seemed clingy. I didn’t say it. I was clingy enough.

The back of his hand brushed mine—light, deliberate—like he was checking to see if I was real. Then his fingers curled around mine.

“Come on.”

He stepped out in the morning, tugging me along with him like the decision was already made.