Page 47 of Between

Memories of the first night, the night Caius showed me the ghosts, came back to me.

What I’m about to show you is real.

My heart began to pick up its pace as I silently watched Caius come back to the desk and grab the manilla folder. The paper with the bloody handprint and signature was tucked inside, and Caius took it to a binder on the bookshelf. Once again, there were hundreds of other folders and papers, signifying the agreement of the others.

And my Uncle Russ was mixed in there, somewhere.

His bloody handprint.

His scribbled signature.

Did he hesitate? Did he sign with a smile? Did he think of his brothers, his family? Did he ever think I would find out?

“Celeste?” Caius asked, snapping me out of my questions. He was standing back at his desk, his hair mussed, his hands in his pockets. My eyes met his stare, confusion over multiple things settling between us.

“Was he happy?” I finally managed to ask.

“Who?”

“My uncle.”

Caius nodded once, as if he was expecting this conversation at some point. With a minor uncertainty in his body language, I could see him processing his answer before saying it. The muscles in his inked forearms flexed, traveling up the length of his arms and reaching his shoulders.

“Yes. He was.”

Without being able to stop myself, I blurted out my next thought. “I want to do it.”

Caius immediately froze. “Do what?”

“I want to do it. I want to see what it was like for him. I want to sign it.”

Caius’ silver irises flared, a sudden fury lighting his face. “Absolutely not.”

“Yes,” I argued. “Let me sign it. Give me a knife.”

Caius held firm and shook his head. “Celeste, no. This isn’t you. This is your grief talking.”

“No, it’s not,” I bit back. “Don’t talk about my grief, and don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. Give me the paper.” I remained on my feet, my eyes still meeting his, my stance firm.

“No.”His voice was strong, stronger than it had ever been with me before.

I wasted no time in coming around to his side of the desk. I began opening drawers one by one, my hands filtering through the material in them, only to feel Caius’ arms wrap around me and attempt to pull me away. I tried to cling to the wooden frame, my hands grabbing the drawers, the lip of the desk,anything,but my efforts were futile.

“Caius, let me go. Give me the paper, and let mego.”

My voice cracked on the last word as a sudden sadness filled my chest, but I still managed to keep up my fight against his hold. I kicked my feet out as he lifted me off the ground and stepped backward, away from the desk. I could feel his legs back into the grated cover of the fireplace, causing it to rattle behind us.

“Put me down,” I demanded through clenched teeth.“Now!”I could hear myself turning needy, and I couldn’t help the emotion that was flooding into my words.

“No.”His voice was calm, firm, and steady. His grip on me was effortless, and my squirming was doing nothing in my favor. “I can’t let you.”

“I need to know, Caius, please.” I could begin to feel my eyes well up with tears. I blinked up to the ceiling, trying to keep the sorrow locked inside. My breathing was heavy, not only from the restraint, but also from the fact that Caius was right.

I was still sofuckingsad.

Every new chapter here was a new chapter in my grief. Everything I learned about this, about my uncle, had the healingwound opening again. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.

“Please,” I whispered, his arms still locking me in place. “I just want to see what it was like for him.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com