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“But—”
“Now.”
She looked up at him but didn’t dare defy him, not after she heard his tone.
“You can see Constance in the morning.”
In the morning?
Claire gave me a wave then went into the hallway to return to her bedroom.
His apartment was elegant, wood paneling up part of the wall, wallpaper taking up the other part. There were paintings and photographs on the wall—all of Claire. The floor was hardwood, and I was dripping all over it. The hallway was illuminated with low lighting, like he had dimmers to set it at whatever intensity he wanted.
When Claire left, Benton stared at me again. There was subtle hostility there, but since it was way less than it’d been before, I’d gladly take it. Or maybe he just always looked like that. Like he wanted to bash someone’s head against the wall.
He made his way down the hallway, his muscled flanks shifting and moving as he carried himself.
I watched him for a second before I followed.
He walked down the hallway and gestured to an empty bedroom.
I didn’t step inside. I looked at him instead. “Why are you helping me?”
A foot taller than me, he squared his shoulders, his short hair a little messy because he’d been asleep just moments ago. He stared for a while, trying to find the words. “Because you helped me.”
I slept like a rock.
Hadn’t slept like that since before I was taken to the cult.
Even if Forneus knew where I was, I suspected he wouldn’t cross Benton. Benton and his associates had some kind of power over the cult. That was the only way to explain how he’d gotten Claire and Beatrice out of there in the first place.
I slept naked because I didn’t have any clothes.
When I opened my bedroom door the next morning, there was a pile of clothes on the floor. I took them inside and discovered they were Benton’s—and they were the size of a tarp. His shirt went to my knees, and his pants had to be held at my waist with double knots in the string.
Whatever. They were clean and dry.
I heard a commotion in the house, pans shifting and moving.
Once the door was open again, I smelled it.
Breakfast.
Barefoot, I moved down the hallway.
“Did she say why she’s here?” Beatrice’s voice was easy for me to recognize because I’d lived with her for months. It was stronger now, like she’d had a good recovery since the last time I’d seen her at the hospital.
Benton’s voice was as cold as ever. “No.”
“Is Constance going to live with us too?” Claire asked. “Like Mommy?”
Neither one of them answered.
I stepped into the living area. There was a large kitchen, a dining table beside it, and then a living room next to it with a large fireplace that burned. Raindrops were still visible on the windows.
Benton faced me, and the second he saw me, he got up and made me a plate in the kitchen.
Claire’s eyes lit up. “You’re awake!”
“Yes.” I took a seat at the table, across from Beatrice. My eyes held hers, thinking about our twisted pasts, and I was a bit incredulous that we’d ended up here, at this table, across from each other.
She studied me, her beautiful face more luminous now. “You sleep okay?”
I gave a weird laugh, because I didn’t know how else to respond.
She seemed to understand, because she didn’t react.
Benton put the plate in front of me before he took his seat at the head of the table.
Two strips of bacon, scrambled eggs with Gruyère cheese, ratatouille on top, and then a couple croissants. Hot, fresh, delicious… I almost couldn’t believe it. I’d been eating premade deli sandwiches for the past few days. First time I’d have something hot in my belly. I took a bite and stared in disbelief at my plate.
“Dad is a good cook, huh?” Claire asked, spinning her eggs on her fork because there was a string of white cheese. “He makes the best mac and cheese.”
Benton ate with his elbows on the table, staring straight ahead to the window.
“Yeah.” I took another bite. “It’s…the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
Beatrice ate her food and watched me. “So, what happened?”
I glanced at Claire, not wanting to scare her. She’d returned to her old life, so that period of time clearly didn’t exist to her. It was gone, far away.
Benton shifted his gaze to me. He stared. Hard.
I looked at Beatrice again. “Got locked out of my apartment…didn’t have anywhere else to go.”
Benton looked away, like that was the answer he wanted.
Beatrice let it go.
“You’re looking well,” I said, seeing the life returned to her cheeks, her eyes a little sharper than they’d been at the cult.
“Yeah, I feel better.” She grabbed her coffee and took a drink.
I’d been through so much with these three people, and it was surreal to be sitting with them right now, having breakfast together…like nothing ever happened.
