AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Why, because you know I’m right?”
“No, Edier,” I say, my voice trembling. “It’s because I think I’ve been in love with a haunted man since I was eighteen, and I can’t compete with his ghosts anymore.” I turn away so he can’t see my tears, but he’s down on his knees in front of me, gripping my chin between his fingers and forcing me to look at him.
“Youthinkyou love me, or you know you do?”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters to me.”
“Would you say it back, if I did?”
His jaw tenses, and that cold silence rises like an invisible wall between us again.
“Talk to me.”
Nothing.
“Talk to me, goddammit!” Losing my temper, I try to push him away but he’s too strong.Somehow, we end up on the floor together in an angry, emotional mess with me sitting awkwardly astride him, beating my fists against his chest to try and force the words out.
“Stop,” he orders, trying to catch my wrists. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
“I’m already sick.”
“And whose fault is that?” he roars suddenly, his face contorting in agony. “Mine, Ella,mine! I brought your hell with me when I stepped insideEl Refugioand into your life.”
“You are not responsible for my disease, Edier Grayson,” I say with a gasp, taking his face between my hands. He tries to push me away, but I don’t let him. He needs to hear this.He needs to understand.“Lupus is a part of me. A witch didn’t curse it into me. Whateverbrujeríahappened in that bar last night isn’t what made me sick.”
“Ella—”
“No, it’s time for you to listen for once instead of throwing orders around. I believe in fate, as hard as she is on me sometimes. I wasn’t born to be as strong as you, Sam, and Isabella. I’m not as smart or as vivacious as Thalia. I was meant to endure and survive and be the person I am because of it.”
“You’re better thanallof us because of it.”
“Let this ghost go,” I plead, curling my arms around his neck. “Tick it off. Throw it away. You don’t get to claim and feel guilty over this one.”
“I can’t keep you safe anymore,Mi Cielo.”
There’s that sense of finality again. That weight without a name.
I go to ask him what he means when a dog starts barking from somewhere in the apartment. The sound is a welcome relief from all the soul talk and tension that’s been building.
“Is that…?”
He curses under his breath. “Yes.”
When he sees me struggling to stand, he swiftly helps me to my feet.
“Can I meet him?”
“Her.”
“What’s her name?”
“Dog.”
“Creative,” I quip, but he’s not listening to me anymore. He’s too busy messaging someone else.
His phone rings as I go to greet the sound of scrabbling paws on floorboards that’s coming at me full tilt from down the hall.
