Page 171 of The Spider & the Storm

Stormy and I burst out of the guest room door, hoping we hadn't missed Soldier. As luck would have it, he was just getting ready to head out the door when he spotted us, dressed and eager to leave.

He lifted his brows curiously. “You guys leaving already?”

Stormy wrapped her arms around one of mine. “Actually, we were hoping—”

“We wanted to get a ride with you to Wayward,” I cut her off, feeling I should be the one to say it, the one to ask. “If you don’t mind.”

Soldier tipped his head, slowly sliding his arms through his jacket sleeves. “Wayward,” he repeated, not quite a question, but not quite understanding.

“Yeah,” I said, already heading to the hooks hanging beside the door, reaching out to grab Stormy's and my jackets. “I wanna see Luke before we head back to Salem. I'm ready. I can't let—”

It was then that I realized Soldier hadn't replied, hadn't acknowledged what I was saying at all. I looked over my shoulder to witness that unease I'd woken with reflected now on Soldier's face. That same discomfort, that look of foreboding and pain, and, God, why the fuck did he have to look at me like that?

And it was the oddest thing because somehow, I knewwhyhe was giving me that look. I just knew with every bit of intuition I'd ever been cursed with. But I didn't want to verbalize it. Didn't want to accept what I now felt deep in my bones, what was now festering with disease in my churning gut, what was now making every bit of sense. Didn't want to speak it aloud, as if that alone would make what was already true the truth.

Soldier opened his mouth, then closed it again, turning his head to fix his gaze on something else. Something other than me. “Charlie,” he said, his voice gruff. “Fuck, I don’t know—”

“You don’t knowwhat?” Stormy snapped, her voice tight and angry. “You’re not going to take us? Seriously? Aftereverything?”

But it wasn’t rejection on his face. It was pain, regret, and a tremendous sadness I had no choice but to feel. He reached up to touch his brow, rubbed his fingers against his forehead, and released a forlorn breath.

My parents' passing. Melanie's departure. Breakup after breakup. Ritchie's murder. Tommy's death.

None of it would hold a candle to the fragile truth making Soldier look like that. Like the weight of a thousand unhappyendings was just sitting precariously on his shoulders, waiting to fall, to crash and burn.

“Charlie,” he whispered, my name passing his lips for the second time. “They didn't tell you. God—”

“They didn't tell himwhat?” Stormy shouted, rushing to my defense as I shook my head.

“No,” I commanded, praying that if he never spoke the words, they'd cease to be true. “Please. No.”

Soldier's brows tipped angrily as he ignored my protests, mypleasfor him to stop. “Dammit, they didn'ttell you,” he repeated through gritted teeth. He pushed his hair back with a hand. “Fucking hell, Charlie. God …” He released another breath that left his shoulders slumped. “I don't know how to say—”

“Then, don't,” I whispered, but the damage had already been done, hadn't it?

He'd already breathed a life into the queasiness in my gut, put a name to the terrible feeling I'd had for months. But I could've lived with that, could've found a way to tamp it down and carry on the way I'd been for the past five years. Just as long as he kept the words to himself.

But Soldier wouldn't listen. He wouldn't leave it alone. He wouldn't just back down and continue on with his damn day with the same ignorance I needed to keep myself from losing it in his living room.

“He died, Charlie.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away from Soldier, the angel of death, the worst one to ever touch my shitty life. My hands rose to my hair; my head shook. Trying to chase thosewords away before they could take root in my brain and infect every last breathing part of my body.

Stormy gasped. “What do you mean, hedied?” Her voice rose in pitch, full of desperation and despair.

But I couldn't look at her, couldn't face the pain she had no business feeling. Her sister was alive. She was somewhere in this house, playing with her kids.

Luke never had kids.

Luke willneverhave kids.

My chest constricted, and I fought against the wave of grief trying to barrel me over. No. No, I wouldn't let myself do this. Wouldn't let myself drown in the reality. I could ignore it, and I would've, wouldn't I? If I had never met Stormy, if I had never methim—Soldier—I never would've known.

I never would've known.

Luke is dead.

No. No, you don't know that.

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