Page 9 of Under Fyre

Guilt.

Desperate shame.

“I can help you, Charlotte.”

My eyes lock with his. I see nothing malicious…in fact, I see nothing at all. Not a flicker of emotion.

“I just want to go home.”

Still nothing. I could be talking to a statue.

“Please, Professor. Let me go home.”

“So you can succumb to your depression?” He tilts his head to the side, seemingly oblivious to how his words are making my heart race.

“No, I just—”

“So you can decide a week, a month, a year from now that you’re out of options, and decide to end it all?”

My mouth goes dry. My stomach turns. If there’d been anything but acid down there, I’d probably have puked again.

“Professor, please—”

“Gideon.” Fyre reaches out, grasps my chin in gentle fingers. “You will call me Gideon.”

Chapter Six

Fyre

Ileave Charlotte huddled on the bed, taking the tray and bucket with me. Arrow is waiting outside, but when she catches sight of my face, she backs up a few paces and watches me warily from a distance.

She only follows me to the kitchen when I’ve gotten a good yard or two ahead.

I clean out the bucket, prepare another sandwich for Charlotte.

My frustration is evident in the jagged line I cut through the bread. How I accidentally drop the knife on the floor, and then toss it into the nearby sink instead of walking over to set it down like I normally would.

Calm the fuck down.

But the mantra doesn’t help. I wanted to delve deep into Charlotte’s past and wrenching up those well-buried roots to her memories, and I wanted to starttonight.

Now I have to endure another sleepless night, another evening without progress.

How many more?

Charlotte is damaged, but I never realized she was thisweak.

I thought my girl was stronger than this, but it’s as if she fears even fear itself. I’m desperate to rush back in there and go ahead with my plan…but the healer inside me knows I’d be pushing her too far, too soon.

I cover the sandwich with plastic wrap, grab a carton of milk from the fridge, and head back to her room.

When I see her standing in the hallway, her body stiff like she froze up when I surprised her, I almost drop the plate of food.

We stare at each other for a second like a wolf who turned the corner and spotted a terrified rabbit right in its path.

How could I have forgotten to lock her door?

The click-clack of Arrow’s nails on the floor seems to jar us both out of our paralysis.

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