Page 22 of A Twisted Gift

Something dark passes over Erik’s expression, and my chest tightens at the possibility of him getting angry again. But he closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, they only hold a soft sympathy for me.

“No more, all right? You’re free now.”

“So I can do whatever I want?” I whisper.

He nods, his smile sad, and I wonder if he thought of me as often as I thought of him. If he had an idea of how bad things were for me. Did it haunt him? DidIhaunt him?

“Will you show me the rest of the house?” I ask. It’s different in here, warm and welcoming, but the Christmas tree makes my heart ache for a reason I can’t explain.

“Of course.”

Erik leads me through the first floor. Whatever furniture that’s left is covered in sheets, and the wooden floorboards creak under our weight. It’s as if they have a story to tell, one that’s been hidden in these walls for far too long.

As we move upstairs, the steps sigh from our footsteps.Something happened here,they groan. Whatever it is, it was dark, and the very structure of the house absorbed it.

“What was done to you?” I whisper, my fingers tracing the old burgundy wallpaper.

How long has the house sat in isolation? Filled with nothing but stale air, a cold and empty hearth, and decaying memories.

“Raina?” Erik is at the top of the stairs. A window arches up behind him, a blur of snow and rain blowing outside from the howling wind.

Until him.

Did the house breathe a sigh of relief when he first came back? Was it ready to be revived? Loved again?

“Raina.”

I blink, realizing I’m only halfway up the steps. “Oh!”

“Did you say something?” he asks.

“Oh, um… It was nothing.” I join him on the landing. “Just thinking out loud.”

He nods, and I realize his stiffness has returned. As we near the first room, he swallows audibly. His fingers graze the doorknob, but he doesn’t turn it. “This was my parents’ room.”

My hand covers his, tugging him away. “Maybe we don’t go in there.”

“Yeah.” His voice is rough, and he clears his throat. “This way.”

We pass by another room with a closed door—his childhood bedroom, he tells me. There’s a main bathroom, and then he points to the room he’s staying in, and then mine. They’re right next to each other, I realize with relief. He won’t be far.

In my room, there’s a large bed and a dresser on one wall, and a bookshelf and an armchair in the corner near one of the windows. That’s where I’m drawn to immediately, taking in the titles of the books.

“I’m in the middle of this series,” I say, pulling out the third book. “How’d you know that?” It’s not the type of book Father would ever let me read, so I don’t keep them out in the open where he can see.

“Well, for starters, hiding books behind the pillows on your window seat isn’t the best strategy.” He smiles, some of the tension bleeding from his expression as he crosses the room to join me. “I wanted to get you books you’d enjoy, and when I sawa bookmark halfway through that one, I thought it was a good place to start.”

“Oh.” I hug the volume to my chest, gratitude winding through me. If it wasn’t for one particularly kind maid who snuck books in and out for me, I wouldn’t even know the series exists. Seeing the same kindness in Erik feels like a sign—a good one. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do, Raina,” he says, the roughness returning to his voice. “After leaving you there for so long…”

“No.” I place my fingertips over his lips, unsure how else to quiet him. “I’m just grateful that you came for me at all. Thank you. I never thought I’d get to leave, Erik. I owe you everything. I—” My words die on my tongue when his face falls. “What?”

He shakes his head. “You owe me nothing.Nothing,Raina. All of this…” He gestures around the room. “This is what you deserve. A place where you’re safe. Cherished. It’s the bare minimum.”

“But—”

“No. No buts. I don’t want you to feel like you have to find some way to pay me back. All I care about is your happiness.”

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