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Don’t You Cry

Page 225

by E. Baileu

“You could drink out of a normal water bottle.”

His face falls, bottom lip trembling just enough to make my chest ache.

“Alright, fine, honey. Just remember to fill it up before we go.”

He smiles, sunlight from the window catching the glitter still stuck in his hair. “I will. Thank you.”

I look at him. He looks at me. Something soft passes between us, thick and unspoken. Then Kamden ducks his head, blush creeping up his neck, and goes back to gathering crayons into a ziplock bag.

I bite my tongue as I spot a few more pieces of glitter in his hair as he turns his head.

I have accepted that glitter is simply part of my life now. If I believed in things like divine punishment, I’d sure as hell think the glitter was mine. For every bad deed I’ve done, I earn another year of having it fucking everywhere. I clean, and it’s still there. I could probably blow this house up, and the rubble would be fucking sparkly.

It takes two hours to get everything packed and in my car. My car that no longer has Steven’s body in the back. I hate them sometimes, but Quillan and Mathias are at least reliable when it comes to criminal matters. Though I have no doubt Mathias just stood back and ordered Quillan to handle the body disposal, since the man hates getting his own hands dirty.

We’re just about ready to head out when I notice Kamden standing in the center of the sitting area with Rabbit held against his chest, his expression oddly forlorn as his fingers trace Rabbit’s ear over and over.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, watching his eyes sweep across the stripped-bare room. The furniture will stay here, but everything that made this place bright and soft is gone.

He shakes his head, voice soft. “Nothing.”

“Kammie.”

A long sigh escapes him. “I… I know we’re going somewhere better…”

“But?”

“I just… don’t like it.” He twists the hem of his shirt between his fingers.

“Don’t like what?”

“Leaving.”

My little sweetheart.

I lean my shoulder against the door frame, studying the way he won’t meet my eyes. “Aren’t you excited to see your new home?”

He gives a small nod. “Uh-huh.”

His gaze drifts toward the hallway—toward what used to be his room. “But my room was here.”

“You’ll have a better one at home.”

“I know.”

“A bigger one.”

“Mhm.”

“With a bay window, remember? You liked it in that picture I showed you, didn’t you?”

“Yeah.” He smiles faintly.

I push off the wall and walk to him. “Tell me what’s really bothering you.”

He shrugs, scuffing his sneaker against the floorboards. For a moment I think he’ll deflect again.

Then his voice drops, so quiet I have to strain to hear. “This is where you found me.”