Page 55 of The Flame

I caught a whiff of apple and my stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, I realized. “I could eat.”

As I sat down by the table, the chair rocked on the uneven wood-slatted floor. I wasn’t a princess. I wasn’t complaining. But I did take note of all the small things, the little reminders that we’d chosen the most remote, and possibly least desirable cabin in the entire nature reserve.

Daniel took the chair across from me and propped open the bags containing our feast. He took a cracker to nibble on, his gaze sweeping the space, then coming to a rest on the crack in the drapes covering the window that the table was pushed up against.

What was he thinking about? All his shattered hopes and dreams? Was he as distraught about losing his home, his affluent lifestyle, his prominent future, as Brenda was?

He must be.

He was the golden boy with blue, blue eyes, and now his world had imploded.

A wave of guilt hit me, not at what he’d lost, but at the part I’d played. He was my friend, and I was the one who’d struck at the heart of his family. There was no way to gloss over it. I’d known it at the time, and I knew it now.

“How are you doing?” I asked softly.

“As well as can be expected,” he returned just as softly, then he adjusted the drapes to close the crack, to stop the light from bleeding out, or maybe just for his hands to do something.

“I’m sorry.”

“This isn’t your fault.” His gaze swung onto me. “I know you’re part of this Sisterhood, Georga, but it’s kind of obvious by now that you don’t agree with everything they’ve done.”

“That’s not what I’m apologizing for.” I popped a piece of apple into my mouth and chewed.

I was a coward.

I didn’t want to do this.

But every other minute, Daniel was discovering something new about just how screwed up his life was. It would be kinder to get it all out there. He deserved that much.

“Do you remember that day you came home to find me in the den? Your father had a nasty cold, or the flu.”

“You weren’t feeling great yourself,” he said, proving he did indeed remember. “You collapsed.”

“I faked it,” I admitted. “I was on a mission for the Sisterhood. I gave your father herbal tea laced with brandy and a sedative to knock him out, so I could take a copy of his handprint. That’s how they got into the armory.”

Daniel didn’t say a word. His gaze snapped away from me as he picked up another cracker, crumbling it between his fingers instead of eating.

“It wasn’t an easy decision, abusing your trust like that, but I did it,” I said. “I won’t ask you to not be mad at me, to not hate me. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But you should know, that’s who I am, that’s what I did, and I am sorry.”

Still, he said nothing. He broke off a piece of cracker and put it in his mouth. The rest crumbled to dust beneath his forefinger and thumb.

“That’s it?” I said. “You’re not going to say anything?”

“What do you want me to say, Georga?” He sounded weary, defeated, exhausted, and his eyes finally lifted to me.

I wanted him to tell me what a terrible person I was. Maybe I wanted something that I could defend against, a chance to explain, to justify my actions...as selfish as that was.

He didn’t give me the opportunity, and I wouldn’t take it.

I’d taken enough from him.

He crunched on another cracker.

I chewed on bits of apple. This was it, I consoled myself, my final confession. Despite his silence, my chest felt lighter.

Once I’d finished the dried apple, I dusted my hands off.

“You should eat something else,” Daniel said. “Crackers?”

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