Page 61 of Tender Heart
Bile rises and burns, but I force myself to read the letter out loud. So my mind can’t misinterpret the words, can’t placate the meaning. Can’t alter the message on the page . . .
Legs trembling, I sway, hitting the table. The mug topples over and water spills over the page, encasing it in a watery veneer. I bolt up the stairs and stumble into the bathroom. Hands gripping the seat, I lose my stomach to the toilet.
Sobs chug upward as the bile renews its burn. “Fuck...”
I scream into my hands, crumpling onto the tile in a shaking mess of limbs. He killed Joshua.
It’s all my fault.
It’s. All. My. Fault.
The fiery grip of fear, anxiety, and disgust wind through me inch by inch. Keening, rocking back and forth with fingers tangled in my hair, I scream into the tile.
“No...” I slam a fist into the floor. Something cracks, and pain lances through my knuckles and wrist.
Heat and the agony of fresh grief slam into me. I try to rise but fall to my knees again. The only thing I can think of is hiding in the solace of the arms of the man who’s made my days bearable for the last five months.
I stagger to my feet, gripping the doorway to the bathroom. Something bright flashes outside. The gnarly grip of terror renders me still for a moment. Then the rumble follows. The wind howls. How did I not hear it before? The roar of the blood rushing through my ears must have drowned out the storm brewing outside.
I make it to the kitchen to sweep the curtain to one side. Lightning scrawls across the sky. The crash of waves on the rock of the western shore roars alongside the continuous thunder. The tree line of the forest sways violently. Something knocks against the window, and I jump with a start, a yelp spewing from my lips.
My heart is racing, keeping its chaotic, manic rhythm in time to the tremor in my hands.
“I’m not staying here by myself,” I whisper, as if Cal can hear me.
Like somehow, even though we’re at opposite ends of this island, we’re still connected.
The front door jostles under the force of the storm. Logically, I know this old house will keep me safe. But if T, or whatever he signs off as, knows where I am...
Am I really safe here, alone?
Fresh fear closes my throat around a new stone set on not nudging. I’ll take my chances with Mother Nature. Man has never turned out to be a safe option. The paper on the table that’s now moving as if by some invisible puppeteer’s strings as a draft finds its way inside is evidence of that.
How hard can it be? Callum said it only takes an hour to walk there. If I run...
In the dark.
In a storm.
Something clatters to the ground outside. I freeze, holding my breath.
I swipe up my useless phone just in case and grab one of Callum’s caps from the hook before shrugging my coat over my shoulders.
A shadow moves past the window and I barely manage to tamp back the scream that flies up.
“Out. I need to get out,” I whimper, shoving my boots onto my feet. My hand trembles on the doorknob.
“You can do this, Evie. Go on!”
I pull the door open and cross the threshold, and it all but tugs from my hand, slamming shut behind me. Battered by the wind, I make a beeline for the trees, holding the cap on my head with one hand. When I reach the trees, I break into a run, heading south. I hope. The rush of the wind is less in here. Butthe canopy swirls above me. Twigs crack underfoot as I push my legs faster.
A groan sounds from behind me.
From what, or who, I can’t tell.
Tears swell, blurring my vision. “Dammit, not now.”
I swipe low branches away as I plow through the forest. My heartbeat hammers through my ears, clanging my brain in my skull.
