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I take out the first aid case again, grabbing the safety pins before hitching her dress up to her breasts and wrapping the stretchy fabric around her belly. Desperately trying to keep my thoughts on the straight and narrow, I pull it taut so that it holds nicely around the bottom of her bump and her back.
When it’s secured, I readjust her dress and put all the shit around us away. It’s impossible not to think about how soft her skin felt beneath my hands. How warm. I know this will only end badly if I don’t get my shit together. Lucian is right. We all have our roles, and the best thing is to stick to them.
Th
e problem is that when it comes to Fleur, all the rules I’ve adhered to from day one go out of the window. They’re worthless, meaningless words that disintegrate at the sight of her.
Chapter 21
FLEUR
The grounds really are something special, especially in the sunshine. The trees have fresh leaves and flowers have sprouted closer to the water’s edge.
Fresh blooms of deep burgundy and white-flecked Lenten roses, violet hyacinths, and snowdrops line the path we’re walking back to the house.
“You doing all right?” Ryan asks, offering me another drink of water.
“It’s nice to be out.” Although all I’ve thought about the entire walk is how the last time I did this was also the last time I saw Casper alive.
Of course, those thoughts have me questioning everything along with what my father did.
How could a man that I grew up trying so hard to impress do something so ghastly?
I don’t understand it, and at the same time I don’t doubt it. My conscience is in purgatory, unable to comprehend how I missed it. And the entire time, everything points to the night Freddie was breathing down my neck about my mother’s journals.
There’s no reason for them to have them unless she was a part of all this. But she wasn’t a bad person. She was soft even during her bad episodes. Even when she shut me in the dark, it was all under the belief that she was protecting me from something.
What if it wasn’t all paranoia down to her bipolar?
What if? How? Why?
I’m going around in circles in my head and not getting anywhere. It’s exhausting with my body’s constant aching. And my soul’s endless longing.
“Ryan?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we sit for a little bit?”
“Sure, so long as you’re feeling good.”
“Great, actually…” I sing overenthusiastically. “Just look at me, I’m positively glowing, can’t you see?”
“Sarcasm isn’t becoming of you.” Helping me down onto the grassy flat by the water, he sits beside me.
“So, you know what my father’s part in this—”
“It’s not your fault,” he asserts before I can say anything else.
“I know, but I want to know more. I want to know everything, and there’s only one person that will tell me all there is without jumping down my throat.”
“Fleur…” Ryan twists his torso towards me, and his hand hovers by my face, twirling a few tendrils of my hair together before tucking them behind my ear.
“I want to speak to Arabella. I need to know what she knows so that I can understand all of this.”
“There is nothing to understand. Charles fucked up and fucked off. He left you to cop the brunt of his actions—you don’t owe him anything. You don’t owe anyone anything. You’re…you…you’re too good to be worried about anyone else. Especially Charles.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about. I need to make things right for my daughter. It’s up to me now.” I can’t hide here forever. As beautiful as it is, this isn’t where I belong. “Please.”
