Page 44 of Manacled Hearts

How could I have been so stupid as to think that this man wanted something to do with me? He’s right—I read far too much into it.

Didn’t I…?

I must have imagined the conflict that tightened his eyebrows and darkened his gaze as he threw his rejection in my face. More than once.

I probably read too much in his possessiveness last night, when he found me dancing with that guy who touched me a bit too insistently. Though, even as I protested, I was secretly thankful he got rid of him in that over-the-top display of power.

No, I didn’t read too much into that.

This man holds a power over me I don’t understand. He stirs something that has been growing deep within the fabric of my soul for a long time. A longing for selfishness and hedonism. A heated look, a lingering touch, even his harsh rejection makes that unfulfilled creature inside of me think it could reach the surface and be free. But it can’t.

Especially as I’m slowly seeing the staggering truth—I didn’t imagine the way he touched me, how he fought to hold himself back, or his stare as we lost ourselves to the rhythm of the music.

It was real. All of it was real.

“And I was an idiot to think that it could mean something.” I slam my palm against the tile, and a knock on the door sends a tremor through me.

Christ.

“Evie, are you in there?”

“Yes, Maya.” I jump to my feet, and I catch myself on the door frame as dizziness sweeps through me.

I swallow, forcing back the nausea, and open the door.

“Oh, you look bad. You got so much beauty sleep today, you should be all perfect and glowing,” she says, giggling with that cheeky amusement.

“Beauty sleep?” I ask, ignoring the childish insult she doesn’t notice.

“Yes. I asked Katya why you weren’t having lunch with us, and she said you were having your beauty sleep. I didn’t know what that meant, so she said that it’s so it helps you be healthy, beautiful, and glowing.”

Glowing? I snort, knowing full well sweat is the only thing that could make me glow right now. It sounds like Katya got uncomfortable and had no idea what to say to her. Wait, lunch? What time is it?

“I’m sorry I didn’t wake up, sweet girl. I was very tired.”

“That’s okay. Katya said to tell you that Mamaw June is coming over later to see me, if that’s okay with you. So… you can continue that beauty sleep.”

At this point I would like it to turn into a coma. No sleep is going to help with what I’m feeling.

“Are you comfortable with her, Maya? Is this something you want to do?”

“Yes. Mamaw June tells me stories, all sorts of fairy tales and legends. And her food is delicious. She said she’s gonna teach me to make crêpes. You know, like the ones you used to make all the time. And the cakes too. And—”

“Okay,” I interrupt her before she walks further down memory lane and pushes me deeper in this despicable feeling that’s making me sick right now. Though, I don’t understand how she could possibly remember me baking; she was so young. “If you want to spend time with her, as long as you are comfortable, I’m okay with it. But you tell me if this changes. Yes?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Now, let me brush my teeth.”

She turns on her heels, skipping out of view, and I close the door, locking it behind me. All I can do right now is allow her to spend time with people who can offer her what I can’t. A life, food on the table, safety. People who bring happiness in her life. Who enriches it in some way and puts a smile on her face and laughter in her voice.

I can’t offer her any of that.

I haven’t been able to in so long. She deserves better, so much better, and all these people… Katya, June, the bloody Sanctum, are giving her just that.

Once again, I slide down until my ass hits the cold tiles, and gather my knees to my chest, clutching my temples in my palms. I know what I need—a plan. A job, money, a roof over our heads, and… to go back to Fleeton.

The idea of returning to that wretched place turns the itch under my skin into molten lava, searing me from the inside out. It’s my home. I was born there. Lived there my whole life. Everything left of me, of us, is there. But the pain and sorrow have replaced the good memories I have of that city.

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