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“I'll take you back to ?Aura?'s house and we can figure this out together,“ I say. “You don't have to be alone for any of it. We can talk it through.“
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Okay,“ she says, but she's lying. I can see it all over her face.
Trine thinks we have nothing to talk about, and my stomach twists at the thought of her pushing me away.
We need to save her. I need to save her. Otherwise, I'm pretty sure I'll be condemning myself.
TRINE?
Luke pulls over on the side of the road. There's a small strip of grass next to the two-lane street, large trees flanking the street from both sides.
“You don't have to be alone,“ he says softly. “I promise.“
I turn to look at him, my eyes swimming with tears. I finally understand. I get why my mom felt like she had to stay away from everyone, including me. I wish I didn't get it, but I do, and that scares the shit out of me.
“Don't,“ ?Luke? says, his hand on mine.
“What?“
“Don't pull away,“ he says. “You have to let us help you.“
“You're wrong,“ I reply. There's a part of me—a large part—that wants to scream. But I'll do no such thing, mostly because I'm keenly aware that he is trying to help, and I don't want to seem too predictable. If he decides that he needs to talk me out of it, I don't think I'm going to be able to resist him.
But I get it.
I understand why my mom felt like she had to leave in the first place, and that knowledge settles in my bones, wrapping itself around my veins like ice.
“Trine...“
“I don't have to let you help me. I don't have to help you do anything,“ I say. “You want to help me, and that's on you.“
“You need to remember how important this is, Trine.“
“I know how important it is,“ I say, my teeth gritted.
“Not just for you. For us.“
I feel like I'm fighting back tears. “This isn't about you,“ I say. “This is about me. And I get to decide what happens. Why did you pull over, anyway?“
He kills the engine, his dark blue eyes boring into me. “You shouldn't feel like you have to do this alone. You don't have to.“
“Yes, I do,“ I say. “There's absolutely nothing you could say that would change my mind.“
His eyes narrow. “Fine. Then I won't say anything,“ he says. “I'll just show you.“
I look up at him, wondering what the fuck he's about to do when he gets out of the car and closes the door noisily behind himself. It's almost enough to startle me, so I sit up straight and watch him, my eyes wide as he walks in front of the car and opens the passenger side door.
“No one can see you here,“ he says. He's towering over me, his arm outstretched and his form muscular and lean against the frame of the car. I couldn't escape now, not even if I tried, and there's absolutely no part of me that wants to.
I don't want to hurt him. But fuck, it's so much easier to let him tower over me than to try to push him away. I want to wrap my arms around him and ask him to hold me until this is all over but I'm not going to do that—not if it's going to hurt him.
I really don't want to hurt him.
I don't want to hurt any of them.
But I stop thinking about that when he inches his face closer to mine, his gaze darting between my lips and my eyes. I think he's going to kiss me, and the idea of it makes me feel a bit nauseous, because this is a priest and this is probably wrong—but he doesn't kiss me.
“You said I wouldn't be able to say anything that's going to convince you not to push us away. You still believe that?“
