Page 145 of Unrequited
“What?”
“He’ll make it look like an accident,” Seamus says with weight. “That’s how he works. He wouldn’t dare kill me outright. My father would never forgive him, but an accident? That, he can do.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have a plan,” he says softly. “Like I said. You have to trust me. Will you?”
“Okay,” I whisper. “I trust you. Let’s head in. It’s getting late.” He kisses my cheek. “I love this dress on you, love.”
I smile. “You like everything you pick out for me?”
He shrugs, even though his eyes are sad. “What can I say?” He tugs a lock of my hair. “I have good taste.”
The family’s seated for a late dinner. Seamus pulls out my chair without looking at me. We eat in silence. I barely taste anything.
Caitlin tries to speak, to make something of the stillness, but finally gives up.
Seamus won’t look at me.
He’s gone stone-cold. The man from outside, who held me, who asked me to trust him, feels like someone I imagined.
He clears the dishes like a machine. I follow him.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
His jaw ticks. “I think you should go upstairs, Zoya. Go to bed. I don’t want to talk right now.”
I blink. What?
I linger, staring, hoping something in him will soften. Finally, I go upstairs. My chest is a knot.
I try to read but can’t stay focused. But I don’t sleep. I wander the house, then slip out the back door. The sea air is bitter.
Outside, the cliffside is slick with salt and spray. The ocean yawns black and endless below.
And then, I see them.
Branson, standing at the edge.
Ashland, beside him.
No Seamus.
“You there,” Branson barks. “What are you doing out here alone? Does your husband know?”
I don’t answer.
Ashland’s voice snaps like a whip. “Speak when you’re spoken to, lass. Don’t you fucking walk away.”
I hear heavy footsteps behind me.
Seamus.
He takes me in with one glance, then he looks to Branson and Ash. The setting sun throws shadows across his face.
“Zoya.” His voice is low, a warning.
“Why do they hate me?” I whisper.
