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For me, there’s a pull, an urge to keep her with me, to spill every thought I’ve ever had about literature, life, everything. ButIhold back, respecting the space between us, not wanting to scare her off completely.
There are cameras here, always watching, but my heart’s drumming a rhythm that drowns out caution.
“I really enjoyed talking with you, Ben,” she murmurs, swinging back to warm as I gaze down into those mesmerising eyes.
“Me too.” My hand brushes hers, and I’m lost.
No force on earth can stop me this time. I lean in, close enough to feel her breath mingle with mine. The world narrows down to this moment, to the warmth radiating from her skin. I can’t resist—it’s like gravity pulling me in—and I brush my lips lightly against hers, a whisper of a kiss that says everything I’ve left unsaid.
She stiffens, surprise etched on her features. Pulling back, her hand flies to her mouth, and I immediately step away, my chest tight.
My apology tumbles out, rough around the edges. “I’m sorry.”
Her eyes are wide, searching mine, and I brace for the fallout. But it’s not just the cameras I’m worried about; it’s the fear of having crossed a line I can’t redraw.
“It’s okay,” Ever says, her voice steady even as her eyes dart away for a split second. “It’s just after the other night, I’m cautious.”
I nod, taking in her guarded stance. The way she wraps her arms around herself tells me more than words could. “I get it.”
“It’s been weird, you know? Feeling like everyone’s watching, waiting for me to crack.” Her words are a jumble of her thoughts, and again, I’m honoured that she is spilling her soul to me. But the guilt is strong, and I have to tell her we know.
“That’s understandable. But you’re not alone. We are here for you, Ever. We won’t let you be hurt again. I can promise you that.”
“Did you guys know? About what happened to me?” Ever’s voice cuts through the night, a sharp edge of suspicion beneath her words.
I feel the ground shift under my feet, and my throat tightens. This is it—the moment I dread. “We did. Or we pieced it together. We were going to tell you, but after you woke up and you felt so sick, we didn’t think the time was right, and then you found out on your own the next day. Do you hate us?”
She studies me, searching for something in my face, and I wonder if she sees through the thin veneer. All we know is tangled up in silence and secrets, and here I am, feeding her more half-truths.
“No, no, of course not. It’s a weird situation, and you barely even know me. I would feel uncomfortable telling someone all that as well while they vomited into a bowl in front of you.” She gives me a shakysmile, but it’s genuine. She really doesn’t hold it against us for keeping this from her before she found out anyway.
“If anything, I owe you all a thanks,” Ever murmurs, her voice softening the chill of the evening air. “You’ve all been really great to me on the worst weekend of my life.”
“We’re here for you.” I don’t really know what else to say. I feel like shit she is taking this so well,thankingus even. We are utter pieces of shit.
“I appreciate that. It’s nice to have someone in my corner.”
She turns, disappearing into the shadows of the house as she pushes the door open. My gaze lingers on the space she vacated, feeling the echo of her absence like a physical ache.
I lean against the cold, unforgiving doorframe, my eyes closing as I imagine what it would have been like to press my lips against hers just a little longer, a little harder, to slip my tongue into her mouth. Her scent, her warmth, her nearness—it’s maddening.
Ever is under my skin, living in my veins, pulsing with every beat of my heart. I want her—all of her—and this twisted game of half-truths and hidden desires is shredding me from the inside out.
She’s more than an obsession; she’s a need that gnaws at me, relentless and raw. I open my eyes, staring down the silent hallway. She’s so close, but might as well be miles away. I need to possess her, to claim her as mine, but for now, all I have are shadows and the bitter taste of lies.
23
EVER
Late that night, shadows cling to the walls like dark whispers as I take the stairs quietly in the dead of night, desperate for food. It seems I’ve been neglecting my stomach for a while now, and it is protesting vehemently.
Low, urgent murmurs greet my ears when I cross the entrance hall toward the kitchen, coming from behind a closed door that leads to a room I’ve never been in before. Truth be told, I didn’t even notice it before now it’s that well-blended into the walnut wood-panelling of the wall.
The voices inside are muffled, but each word feels heavy. My errant brain is being naughty, urging me to listen, to discover what lurks in the conversations of those who live in this house.
Glancing around to make sure no one is watching me lurk, I lean in, not close enough to touch the wood. The hush from inside makes it all feel like aritual, something ancient and not meant for my ears. But I’m here now, and there’s no turning back.
“Careful,” Alistair’s low, gravelly voice cuts through the silence, every syllable dripping with authority. I’m learning he’s the kind of guy who never raises his voice; he doesn’t need to. His presence alone commands attention, and right now, I can almost picture him in there, standing tall, blue eyes scanning the room like he owns every inch of it. Well, okay, hedoes.
