Page 25 of The Oath We Give

“Anything,” he mumbles, standing steady, not making a single move to step away from me. He tilts my head back, making me look up at his face. One of his thumbs brushes a tear from my face.

It’s my first real look at Silas tonight. What little light exists in this tiny hallway casts a gleam across his face.

For a moment, we are two strangers in an empty room, connected only by our eyes. Our pasts do not overlap, and we are totally unknown to each other. It’s just a second that I allow myself to imagine a world where I can be attracted to him without repercussions.

His eyes are dark, like sodden earth, and so fucking vacant, begging for life to occupy them, aching for a spark. I track the details of him from his straight, distinguished brow to the slope of his strong nose.

Freckles, such a soft and innocent thing, dust the planes of his light-brown cheeks, and his lips are so inviting that I have a sudden overwhelming urge to see him smile. Just watch as his full mouth tilts up and shows off what I know are blinding white teeth.

There is an ache in me to touch him, but I refuse it.

I never wanted this, to know him past his reputation. For him to know me, to see me. I did not want to be two strangers in an empty room, because I know who I am and what I would do to him—any male, for that matter, that got too close to me.

I’m the spindle lover boys prick their fingers on. I leave them comatose with only the memory of my touch.

I’m not the princess. I’m the rotten apple.

The poison made to demolish happily ever afters.

I’m no good for him, for anyone.

“Let go of me.”

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SIX

RETURN OF THE BOOGEYMAN

CORALINE

“Miss Whittaker?”

I lean over on my stool, peering around the canvas in front of me. I’m far too young to be called anything other than my first name. But it makes a little more sense when I see who is standing there.

“Hi, Faye. Coraline is fine. I’m not actually your teacher,” I tell her gently, softer with her than I am with most. Maybe because she reminds me of Lilac. “Can I help you with something?”

“Yeah, sorry. You’re right, my bad.” A blush tints her cheeks, and she tucks a piece of loose pink hair behind her ear. “I was wondering…I mean, it’s fine if not—I don’t want to be a problem or anything. I was just thinking, if I could—”

“What do you need?” I cut her off midsentence, knowing how notorious she is for rambling.

I know it stems from her youth and what she’s been through, but this world will not be easy on her, even though it should be. If she doesn’t learn to demand what she wants from life, it will take from her until she has nothing left.

Even if she’s rotting away on the inside, her voice has to stay alive, or she will have no chance of making it.

With a quick nod, she straightens herself up.

“Could I take some paints home with me? Just the primary colors would be fine. My mom said she’s trying to save up to get me my own soon, but I just wanted to see if I could borrow some until then?”

My cold, hidden heart defrosts enough to let me feel it ache for her. Her single mother is already spending money driving her from West Trinity Falls, and with four other kids at home and the price of paint, it’ll be a while before she gets them.

I swivel in my stool before standing up and walking toward the wall of materials that stretches the entire length of the studio. Cabinets, shelves, and bins are filled with different mediums and supplies.

Scooping up one of my extra satchels, I lift the flap open and start filling it. Faye is still learning, but she’s incredible with watercolor. So along with acrylic, I add a pack of unopened Winsor & Newton watercolor paints, ones I’ll never use because I hate it. My hands scoop out brushes, flat, round, and mop. Paper, a couple of small containers, three palettes, a roll of masking tape, some pencils, and a drawing compass.

This would be better than any art supply trip. It’s expensive paint, and if she’s smart, she’ll keep these materials for a long time. When the bag is almost full, I quickly toss the top back over it and extend my arm toward her.

“Here.”

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