Page 13 of Beloved Sacrifice

“Rose?” The sandwich he’d already eaten turned to lead in his stomach. He tentatively put his hand on her knee. She gasped and grabbed his hand with hers, squeezing. Thinking he’d scared her, he tried to pull his hand away.

“No, please, please.” She fumbled as she laced her fingers with his. “Stay with me.”

“Hey, Brown Eyes, what’s wrong?” He stepped closer.

She shifted her legs to the side then reached out for him, arms circling his neck. She buried her face against his shoulder.

He kissed her wet hair, stroked her back. In that moment, he felt about ten feet tall, suffused with the need to protect and care for her.

“Shh, I’m here. I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

She lifted her head, eyes luminous with tears. “Sorry, I’m just…really glad you’re home.”

“Is this about your mom?”

She shook her head then reached over, grabbed half the sandwich and took a big, defiant bite.

He picked up his, and they tapped sandwiches in a modified cheers. The moment of…whatever that had been…passed.

“How were finals?” she asked between bites.

“Eh, okay. I could have studied more.”

“What a shock. I got a lot of drunk texts.”

“I regret nothing.” Okay, he regretted a few of them.

He’d also taken a fair number of dick pics to send her, but always managed to stop himself. He didn’t want to be that guy.

“I can’t wait to send you drunk pictures next year.” She grinned.

“You’ll still be seventeen.”

“I turn eighteen next spring, and more importantly, I’ll be a senior. Seniors get to drink. It’s tradition.”

“Drinking age is still twenty-one.”

“And I believe you’re still twenty for a few more weeks.” She put her wrist against her forehead. “Underage drinking! The horror.”

He had decided at twenty-and-a-half to just start saying he was twenty-one. Weston snorted. “You’re lucky I like weird girls.”

“You’re lucky I like big dumb jocks.”

He flexed his arm. “Look at these guns.”

“Weston.”

He and Rose both froze, turning to one of the kitchen doorways.

“Father,” Weston said.

Elroy Cloud had dark hair, a lean, handsome face, and a razor intellect.

Barton was distant and stern. Mom was a bit cold—she’d been great when they were little, but the older they got, the more distant she seemed. But Elroy…

Elroy was terrifying. He seemed to always know what you were thinking, as if he were psychic. The worst was when he caught you doing something wrong. He wouldn’t just yell at you, he’d question you until you felt small and stupid.

Elroy nodded to Weston, but his focus was on Rose. She’d gone still, like a rabbit hiding amid tall grass. “Rose,” Elroy said in a cold, hard voice. He pointed at the floor.

---