Page 59 of The Oath We Give

The same will not be said for my sister.

I release Lilac from my hold, turning so that I can see Silas, who is standing just behind me, unmoving, watching me with the same passive look on his face he always has.

There is no sorrow, no sympathy, just dead eyes.

“We need to talk.”

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THIRTEEN

THIS WRETCHED HEART

CORALINE

“Is she alright?”I hear the moment I shut the door behind me.

Silas is leaning against the dark granite island in his kitchen, arms crossed in front of his chest as he looks over at me. His apartment is exactly what I imagined it would be, not that I’d thought about it. Just on the drive here, I pictured it for a moment.

It smells like fresh coffee and his cologne, a comforting mixture.

It’s expensive, touched with a rugged masculine feel. With an open floor plan with dark wood and black accents, it’s brooding and soaked in his smell. Two bedrooms, moody lighting with deep charcoal-painted walls, the best money could buy in Ponderosa Springs.

Minimalistic, put together by a designer I’m sure, and perfectly him.

The lack of color, the cleanliness, is so different from my apartment, a physical reflection of our dissimilarity.

“No.” I exhale heavily, my chest tight. “But she’s asleep and will be okay, eventually.”

I wasn’t lying when I said we needed to talk, but I also wasn’t leaving Lilac alone. His apartment was closer to the Cove than mine. She’d fallen asleep in the car, which meant I’d probably be crashing on Silas Hawthorne’s couch tonight.

Closer than I ever wanted to be to him.

I walk through the living room, into the kitchen, standing on the opposite side of the island as him, resting my arms on the cool surface. The pendant lights softly illuminate his face, and I can’t help but quickly count the few freckles that dust his cheeks and nose.

“Thank you,” I tell him, swallowing my pride, knowing he deserves genuine gratitude from me. Even if it’s just in this moment. “For everything.”

He stares at me for a second before grabbing the white square box in front of him, clicking it open with his thumb to reveal medical supplies.

“I’m fine. I don’t—”

“I wasn’t asking,” he interjects, grabbing a few things before rounding to my side of the island. I watch as Silas lays out a piece of gauze, some tape, and what I think is hydrogen peroxide. “Don’t need you bleeding in my kitchen.”

Without asking, he reaches down, gently pulling my hand upward and flipping it palm side up before undoing the piece of fabric soaked in blood.

I can’t help but shudder at the sight of my wound. I’d barely felt it until my adrenaline wore down. The smell of antiseptic burns my nose as he cleans it. The sting is intense, but I stay still, unmoving, as if his fingers wrapped around mine are an anchor.

“You should eat something,” he mutters, wrapping the bandage around my hand. “I have leftover beef and broccoli in the fridge. I can heat it for you.”

I shake my head, staring at him while he focuses on my cut.

“I don’t eat meat.”

“You’re a vegetarian?”

“Technically a pescatarian, I still eat fish. You sound surprised? Did you peg me as a meat eater?” I arch an eyebrow, fingers pressing down on the pulse in my wrist. I wonder if he’s counting my rising heartbeat.

There is a softness to Silas, one the rumors never spoke about. A stillness that the harsh stories left out. Like he’s in tune with my emotions, everyone’s emotions around him, knowing exactly when his attention is needed.

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