Page 112 of Oathbreaker

“What do you mean?” she replies.

She’s at least facing me a little, and I wave my hands between our bodies. “With you and me,” I say.

“We’re good!” she replies brightly, clutching the dirty mixing bowl to her chest and shuffling over to the sink. I walk over to where she stands.

“I don’t think so, Ella. I know I’ve been distant over the past few months since I’ve been back—” The sound of her dropping the metal bowl in the sink cuts me off.

“It’s okay. Sorry, I’ve been running around between classes and stuff.”

“See, case in point. I didn’t even know you were in school still.”

She rolls her lips inward, and when tears fill her eyes, I reach out and touch her arm. “Hey,” I say, my brows knitting together.

“I’m so sorry, Winter!” She covers her face with her wet hands, sobbing.

“What are you sorry for?” I try to keep the confusion out of my voice.

“I’m sorry that my father did this! I’m sorry I defended him for so long and was so wrong.”

She stops talking when I pull her into a hug. I had no clue she carried so much of this on her conscience.

“You almost died, and you suffered so much. Hunter won’t tell me what happened while you were gone, but I can fucking guess. And my father was the one who orchestrated all this. I just—God!”

She tries to move away, but I hold her through her words, letting her get this out.

Her tears start to slow after a minute, and I release her when she pulls back.

She leans against the island, her eyes fixed on the stone's swirling gray, gold, and white patterns.

“I don’t know how you don’t hate me. I’m not looking for sympathy—especially not sympathy from you, because you should be the last person to give it. But fuck.”

“Will you look at me, Ella?”

It takes a few seconds, but eventually, she looks up at me.

“The only people who are responsible for what happened are Adam Collins, Benjamin Brigham, and the people he used to hurt me. No one else. Not even you.”

Her lips tremble, and she nods slowly. “I’m so sorry about what happened. I’m so glad that you’re here.”

I smile at her. “Likewise.” I grab her hand. “And I’d like us to get closer, you know? To be friends. I don’t have very many of them. I mean, actually, Veronica is my only friend. And I guess Hunter, but that’s, um....”

“That’s different since y’all bang like horny teenagers?”

I laugh, and it’s loud, robust. I haven’t had many of them over the past several months, but they’re coming out more frequently these days.

“I’d love for us to be friends, especially since we’re going to be sisters soon,” she says with a dangerous twinkle in her eye.

I look down at my left hand. My ringless left hand. The ring Hunter unceremoniously put on my hand before entering Misha Hroshko’s home sits next to our bed, and Hunter didn’t say anything when I didn’t put it on this morning.

It’s all confusing as fuck.

“He hasn’t asked me to marry him,” I say. “Plus, it’s probably too soon for all that, anyway.”

She blows a raspberry, sticking her tongue out, and I laugh again.

“Bullshit,” she drawls. “If he hasn’t asked you, it’s because there’s a specific thing he’s waiting for or wants to do. But he’s already declared that you’re Mrs.Brigham, soooooo.” She draws out the word, shrugging her shoulders and lifting her hands as if to say, Well, what can ya do?

“Well, while the Commonwealth of Virginia recognizes common law marriage, I’d really like an official...something before stepping into the title. You know, like a wedding. Or, and I know this sounds crazy, an actual proposal.”

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