Page 16 of The Devil's Daughter

“Thanks for calling.”

“No problem. What’s up?”

He sighs. “It’s probably nothing, but Ben and I haven’t spent this much time apart in… well,ever. I’m worried the change is going to have an adverse effect. He doesn’t want Elle to know, and you’re the only other person I can ask to keep an eye on him tonight.”

I straighten up and stare more pointedly at Ben. He’s grinning at Elle as if he just made a clever joke. She tosses a piece of crust at him, then laughs, the sound carrying through the open slider out to the deck where I stand.

After being an outside observer to the trio’s friendship, it feels strange to find things slowly shifting. A deeper connection feels like it’s starting to grow—one which might allow me to be an active participant, rather than just someone watching from the sidelines. Not that I don’t love watching, but like I told Elle earlier, there are rules, and I don’t like to watch without the watchee being aware, giving consent. And there’s only so long I can lurk around the edges of their bubble before they start to notice what a fucking creep I am.

“Keep an eye on him how? And more importantly,why?”

“Don’t let on that you know, but Ben suffers from PTSD. He has night terrors when he’s stressed, and this shit today is pretty stressful. They’ve been bad since Toni was taken, and haven’t gotten better now that she’s home—if anything, they’re getting worse, probably because he’s worried about Elle. And this shit isn’t likely to help.”

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

“Nah, you wouldn’t. It’s why we picked rooms at your place that are as far from yours as possible. We didn’t want to worry about him waking the whole place up when he loses his shit in the middle of the night.”

“Is he getting help?” I ask, moving to one of the comfortable cushioned benches lining the rail on one side. A gas-powered fireplace kicks on across from me, the heat cutting through the evening chill, though I barely notice it until the warmth cascades over me.

“That’s a can of worms I don’t think he’s ready to open. Just keep an eye on him, okay? If he freaks out, just be there. Let him know he’s not alone.”

“You know, I’m pretty sure Elle would understand. She’s probably better equipped to help him than I am. To comfort him, if that’s what he needs.”

“It’s a pride thing,” Baz says wearily. “Especially in our family, you just don’t let on that you have a weakness, or it’s the end of the fucking world. But I think youcanhelp him in a way Elle and I can’t. Just be there for him, okay?”

I’m not sure what he means exactly, but I agree to keep my eyes and ears open tonight, then hang up and stand.

Elle and Ben go silent when I return to the table and meet Ben’s gaze. There’s a cautious, expectant look in his eyes, as if he might know who was on the other end of the call just now. I suppress the urge to reach out and offer him comfort; we’re not at a place yet where it’d be accepted, much less welcome. Giving such comfort to others is hard enough, but I’ve come to care for all three of them, and I didn’t realize until the last few days that I even had it in me to want to offer more than a roof and state-of-the-art security.

Though that last part failed them, so I’d probably suck at the other part too.

8

Elle

The weary contentmentin my limbs is no antidote for the buzz of anticipation when I get back to my cabin after dinner. The first thing I do is tap the screen on my phone to make the video call to Drake. He picks up, a slight smile on his handsome face. Deep purple splotches color the hollows beneath his eyes, more prominent on the small screen than they were at dinner.

“How’s your nose?” I ask.

He reaches up and squeezes the bridge. “Not broken, just sore. At least I have an excuse to avoid meetings for a little while.”

I settle on the end of my bed. “Ben shouldn’t have punched you. If it makes you feel better, he means well.”

“I got that message loud and clear, but I don’t deny I probably earned this.”

“Oh? What did you do? I completely missed it.”

He clears his throat, his gaze darkening and slipping down, though I know he can’t see much lower than my neck. “You were in barely any clothes. Pretty sure those panties you were wearing have their own gravitational pull.”

My insides heat and I lift an eyebrow. “My panties, or my ass?”

“Both.” His voice is rough, and he clears his throat. “This isn’t meant to be a conversation. Remember what we talked about?”

I’m a little disappointed that he’s cutting our exchange short, but I nod. “What do you want me to do?”

“Set the phone somewhere with a good view of your room. Then just… do whatever you feel like doing.”

“And you’ll just watch? That’s all?”

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