Page 21 of Dare To Live

Back aching, I carry the bowl and cloth into the kitchen and leave them by the sink. My eyes are heavy, and I rub them to dispel the tiredness. I don’t want to risk using one of the other bedrooms to take a nap. I need to keep an eye on him. If his fever gets worse, I have to be ready to call someone for help.

My steps are tired as I move to the window, and peer out into the darkness. Tiny white snowflakes are drifting down in front of the glass. With a sigh, I gather up my bag and dig out my cell to call my mom. Her number goes straight to voicemail. Not surprising as it’s so late.

I wait for the beep.

“Hi, Mom. Just letting you know that I’m with Eli. I think he has the flu. I’m staying with him until he’s over the worst of it—no need to call back. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

Glancing toward the refrigerator, I toy with the idea of making something to eat but push it aside and go back into the main room. I use the iron poker beside the hearth to poke the logs and keep the fire burning. It’s warm enough that we won’t freeze, but I’ll need to get more logs from somewhere in the morning. Eli must have a store in one of the buildings outside.

A gleam of color reflected in the firelight catches my eye, and my attention rises to the crystal raven sitting on the mantelpiece, its wings outstretched, ready to fly. I run my finger over one of the wings, brushing my fingertips over it gently.

Kellan’s ashes are inside. I still remember the day Eli received them. He’d broken down in my arms that night, and witnessing his devastation had been almost as bad as the day we’d found Kellan dead.

Chapter 12

Eli

“I always wondered what the inside of your head looked like. Should have guessed it’d be an art studio.” Kellan flashes me a grin as he flicks a finger against an easel holding a partly finished painting.

“You’re dead. This isn’t real.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m aware of that, thank you very much. Do you think Miles ever thinks about me?” He flops down onto the large beanbag in one corner.

I frown at it. I’m sure it wasn’t there a moment ago.

“I was sure he’d pine after me for a while.”

“It’s been ten years.”

“Huh. Doesn’t feel that long.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I agree quietly.

“So what are you doing?”

I pick up a paintbrush and swirl it in green paint. “What do you mean?”

“I’m the one who died, not you.”

“I know that.”

“So why are you behaving as though you’re the one who’s dead?” He stretches his legs out in front of him and smirks at me.

“I’m not.”

He snorts. “Sure. You’re out here in the middle of nowhere, looking like a fucking yeti, and pushing away all the people who care about you.”

“All the people? Because there are so many, right?”

“More than you think.” Another voice—this one comes from behind me.

I turn. My dad is standing in the doorway. “Kellan’s right. What are you doing, son?”

Dropping the paintbrush, I rake a hand through my hair. “What is this? I can’t even have people see my side of things inside my own head?”

“We see your side; we just don’t think it’s right. And, as you rightly pointed out, this is all in your head, so you feel the same way.”

“Bullshit.”

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