Nocte

  There is genuine angst in his voice, and his face is pained and I can’t figure it out.

  “Are you a mass murderer?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t work. His face doesn’t change.

  “No. But there are things… that I wish I could say, but can’t.”

  I drop my hand, stricken by the look in his eye.

  “Like what?” I ask bluntly. “Just tell me right now. Tell me all the things, Dare.”

  He ignores that.

  “Do you believe me when I say I love you?” he asks instead, his fingers running along my cheek.

  “I’m not sure why, but yeah. I believe you.”

  He looks startled. “Why wouldn’t I love you?”

  I shrug. Because no one else ever has.

  Aside from my parents and Finn.

  But I don’t say that.

  Instead, I face him squarely. “You’re scaring me. If you love me, then you shouldn’t be afraid to tell me the truth… about anything. Tell me, Dare.”

  He stares at me, pausing.

  “I can’t. It’s about me… who I am. You wouldn’t understand.”

  I stare back, my spine straightened like steel. “Try me.”

  He shakes his head, firm. “I can’t.”

  Despair like I’ve never felt it before settles around me like a cloud. I thought he was my anchor, but if he can’t trust me enough to tell me who he even is, then I can’t trust him with my heart.

  Even I know that my heart is too fragile for that right now.

  “That’s not good enough,” I tell him slowly, each word fighting my lips. I don’t want to say them, but I have to. I have to.

  I have to do what is good for me. What is smart for me.

  “I’ve got enough secrets around me at the moment… whatever Finn is hiding. And his drama. I can’t take it from you too, Dare. I just can’t. If you can’t tell me what is going on with you… then….” The pain breaks my voice off and tears well up in my eyes.

  Dare doesn’t fold. He just stares at me, daring me to say it. Dare me.

  “If I can’t tell you what’s going on with, then what?” he pushes.

  “Then I can’t be with you. Not if you don’t trust me enough to let me in.”

  Dare sighs and takes my hand, his thumb stroking mine, but I pull it away.

  “I mean it.”

  “You don’t understand,” Dare tells me, his voice harsh. “I’m doing this for you. To protect you. There are things you don’t know. You can’t know, not right now. I love you, Calla. I do. But you’ve got to trust me.”

  “I only trust people who are honest with me,” I reply evenly. “You’re not being honest.”

  For the life of me, I don’t know how we went from having an amazing day to this, in the blink of an eye. Dare looks confused too, and shell-shocked and unsure of what to do.

  “God, I want to be,” he tell me, his voice razor sharp. “I’m in a bad position, Calla. You don’t understand.”

  “I only understand one thing,” I tell him and my heart threatens to break. “And it’s that I can’t do this right now. If you ever decide that you’re ready for something else with me, that you want to grow up and be honest, come get me. Until then, leave me alone.”

  I get up and walk down the beach, fighting the urge to collapse at every step. What did I just do? Am I insane? I feel Dare watching me, I feel his gaze, and against my will, I glance over my shoulder.

  He’s staring at me and the look in his eyes tears my insides apart. There’s pain there, raw, honest pain, and that’s all I can see. It swirls around and around, and then the stars whirl and suddenly, the world spins.

  It’s too much to handle.

  Anyone would crack.

  So I do.

  36

  TRIGENTA SEX

  I’m in my bed.

  The sunshine is bursting through my windows, flooding the room with light. I open my eyes, to find Finn sitting next to my bed.

  “Dramatic, much?” he asks, his eyebrow raised.

  I gaze around the room, only to find it empty, but for my brother and me.

  “Where’s Dare?” I ask quickly. Finn looks away, shielding his thoughts from me.

  “Gone,” he simply says.

  Gone? Without another word? Or explanation? Or anything? I know I told him to go, but still. God.

  My stomach balls up, like it’s being constricted in a vise.

  “Dad’s downstairs getting you some breakfast.”

  “I don’t want breakfast,” I say petulantly, staring out my windows. The sky is still blue, the sun still shines… even though Dare is gone.

  “Are you ok?” Finn asks finally. “You passed out on the beach. Dare carried you here, but once dad found out that you’d gotten upset while you were fighting, dad made him leave. What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I mutter. “I’m just surrounded by secrets and craziness and I can’t let Dare keep secrets too. I want him here, I want to be with him, but I’m going to lose my mind if the people in my life don’t start being straight with me.”

  Finn stares at me, startled. “What do you mean by that?”

  I don’t blink. “I think you know.”

  But before he can reply, we’re interrupted by my father.

  He breezes through the door with toast and juice, like it’s an ordinary day.

  “Good morning!” he calls out, setting the tray on my stand. “I’m glad you’re awake.”

  I stare at him icily.

  “You sent Dare away.”

  My father stares back, standing his ground.

  “You literally passed out on the beach,” Dad tells me concisely. “While you were having a fight with him.”

  “My love life is my business,” I remind him. “I decide who to send away. Not you.”

  My father shakes his head. “I decide who can stay on my property,” he tells me. “And you’re under enough pressure without adding more to it. Dare understood. He agreed, actually.”

  “Dare agreed that he shouldn’t be with me?” I ask doubtfully. Dad’s expression slips a bit.

  “Not exactly. He just agreed that he shouldn’t be here last night. I’ll let you decide when you want to talk to him next. But when you do, you need to make sure you’re ready. Being emotionally involved with someone is a big deal, honey. Especially when your emotions are fragile already.”

  I ignore that. “Where did he go?”

  “I don’t know,” my father answers firmly, walking back to the doorway. He walks out and I stare at the wall, fighting the red hot tears that well up in my eyes.

  “I sent him away and he was the only one outside of you and dad who has ever loved me,” I tell Finn without looking at him. He looks flustered and scared and sad.

  “There was mom,” he offers hesitantly.

  “She’s dead,” I say icily.

  He can’t argue with that.

  “I want to be alone,” I tell him finally. Alone with my thoughts, alone with my pain. Because I gave myself to him and he left me. I sent him away and he accepted that and he’s gone.

  Finn startles, staring at me in surprise. Because I’ve never wanted to be alone before.

  “Are you sure?”

  I nod.

  “Ok,” he finally agrees. “But if you need me, I’m right down the hall.”

  He slips out after looking over his shoulder reluctantly, but I don’t call him back. Instead, I pull the blankets up and stare at the oceans, at the boats on the horizon. I wish one of them could take me, and sail me to wherever Dare is.

  He might be hiding things from me, but the pain on his face was real.

  He loves me.

  No matter what, I have to believe that.

  It’s what anchors me.

  I close my eyes and sleep.

  When I wake, I find Finn’s St. Michael’s medallion on my night stand. He left it with me because apparently, I am the one who needs it. Also, it’s evening. I slept all day.

>   Hesitantly, I swing my legs out of bed and sit at my desk instead, opening my laptop.

  I punch Adair DuBray into a search engine.

  I’m half-surprised that 1. A ton of results are returned. And 2. I’m only just now doing this.

  I scroll through the results hesitantly.

  Apparently, his family, or his step-family, rather, are very affluent in England. They’re old money, and every Savage (that’s their last name) goes to Cambridge University. Dare went there himself, and graduated a year early.

  There are tons of pictures of him posted … pictures of him at various parties, with various women on his arms. The articles mention how he’s a disappointment to the Savage matriarch, because of his wild ways, his inability to settle down, his refusal to conform. His partying ways are compared to that of Prince Harry.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  What kind of family is he from that gossip sites are so interested?

  He lives on some huge estate called Whitley, with his grandmother.

  Eleanor Savage.

  A widow, she had two children, Laura Savage and Richard Savage II, both deceased.

  She has three grandchildren, but only one is named. A step-grandson, Adair DuBray.

  I stare at the picture of Eleanor. Even in the picture, her mouth is drawn tightly into a frown, like she’s perpetually displeased, like she’s unable to be satisfied. No wonder Dare doesn’t like her. No wonder he’s a self-proclaimed rogue.

  I read an article interviewing him after he graduated Cambridge early and with honors. He told them that he was off to America for a while. That was earlier this year, back in the Fall.

  So he’s been here since the Fall, and he was only just hunting for an apartment when he met me?

  How strange.

  I look again at the pictures of him. He’s surrounded by drunk women, beautiful women. All long golden legs and blond hair. In one photo, he’s got his arms wrapped around one girl, with a drink in his hand as he flippantly toasts the camera. His eyes stare into the lens… black, black, black as night.

  Black as anything I’ve ever seen.

  Blacker than my sadness.

  I gulp back tears because I already miss him. Because I gave my body to him. Because I don’t want him to ever take a picture with another blond girl because he’s mine. Because he’s hiding something from me and because I want him anyway. Does that mean I’m weak?

  I choke back a cry and pick up my phone.

  I text him quickly, although I’ve never texted him before. I didn’t have to before… he lived a hundred feet from my house. But now he’s gone.

  I miss you. Even though you have your secrets.

  I slide the phone across my desk and climb back into bed.

  I don’t know how long I sleep, I only know that it’s daylight once again when I open my eyes. Finn is sitting in my desk chair, watching me, concerned. He’s pale, his skinny hands clasped in his lap.

  “You’ve got to eat something,” he tells me.

  I turn my face away. “I don’t feel like it.”

  “You’ve been sleeping for two days,” he points out. That surprises me, but I don’t show it. “At least take a drink.”

  He pushes a glass of water at me. I lean up, take two sips, then lie back down.

  “Go away, Finn.”

  He studies me, his blue eyes appraising me, searching me. “You know, if you’re trying to show dad that he was right, this is the way to do it,” he points out. “You’re acting crazy… clinically depressed. Is that what you’re trying to do?”

  “It takes crazy to know crazy,” I mutter and then I feel guilty when Finn flinches. Pain gushes through me, remorse. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean that.”

  He shrugs, pretending it didn’t hurt. “That’s all right. It’s just the truth. You’re acting crazy right now. If dad’s wrong and you’re really in a place where you should be dating someone, get out of bed and act like it. Show them, Calla.”

  He stares at me plaintively with that challenge and I hate him right now for being so logical.

  For being so right.

  “I’m still tired,” I tell him miserably. I want to stay in here where it doesn’t matter that I’m alone. I want to stay here where nothing to get to me. Not mom’s death, not Finn’s crazy, and most of all, not Dare’s absence.

  Finn shakes his head. “I’ll check on you later.”

  I watch him leave, then grab my phone.

  No new messages.

  Dare didn’t answer.

  I close my eyes.

  “Get up.”

  I open my eyes, and it is dark once again.

  I have no idea how long I’ve been in bed, but I’m assuming it’s been another day. Or twelve hours. Or twelve years. Who knows and who cares?

  I stare up at Finn.

  “Enough, Calla. You’re stronger than this. Maybe you don’t care, but I do. I need you. I need you up, I need you to be strong. Sleep through the night if you want to, but in the morning, I need you to get your ass out of bed and quit feeling sorry for yourself.”

  He’s firm and stern and brotherly.

  My eyes fill up with tears, so I close them.

  I hear him sigh as he walks away and closes my door.

  ****

  Finn

  I sit in my sister’s desk chair and watch her sleep. I stare at the tears streaked down her face, the way her hair is matted and wet.

  This is pathetic.

  Her pain causes me to hurt.

  FixItFixItFixIt, the voices chant.

  I can’t. That’s the bitch of it. I can’t fix it.

  She’s fragile and scared and alone, and now she’s broken.

  He broke her.

  Scowling, I pick up her phone, making sure that he didn’t text again. I deleted his answer before, the pitiful I miss you too.

  Fuck him.

  Fuck anyone who wants to hurt her.

  I can’t save her if she keeps getting hurt.

  But the world is like that. The world is ugly and painful and that’s how I’ll fix it. The answer comes to me as clear as a bell. The world is too painful. There’s only one way to stop it, to fix it.

  Fix it.

  I will.

  I will.

  Fix it.

  Consider it done.

  I tell that to the voices and it seems to appease them because they’re silent for a minute as I bend and kiss my sister’s forehead, then crawl in bed behind her.

  There’s a way. Only one Only one Only one.

  Fix it.

  37

  TRIGENTA SEPTEM

  Calla

  Sunlight floods my room and I wake up feeling… alive again.

  I don’t know why.

  Maybe it was Finn’s indignation last night, his plea, his demand to get my ass out of bed in the morning.

  I’m not sure what it was that worked, what broke through my self-pity, but here I am, sitting on the edge of my bed.

  It’s lunchtime and I’m up.

  I smell food drifting through the house, so I pad down the hall and find my father and Finn in the kitchen.

  I sit down without saying a word. I haven’t combed my hair, I haven’t put clothes on. But they both pretend not to notice.

  Finn makes a plate for me, sliding it across the table.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asks carefully.

  I nod, staring at my food, taking a bite.

  “You’ve been in bed for four days,” he adds, his eyes trained on my face.

  “Four?” My gaze shoots up and meets his, then my father’s. My father nods, his face carefully expressionless.

  I look back down.

  “I was tired.” I pause, noting how white my hands look holding the fork. Pale, skinny, listless. I do need to get up. I need some fresh air. I need to stop being pathetic. But first… “Did Dare call?” I can’t help but ask.

  There’s a pause, then my dad nods.

  “
And?” I hear the hope in my voice and hate it.

  “And nothing,” he says firmly. “He was just checking on you. You’re not ready for this, Calla. You’ve been through too much these past couple of months. You’ve got to focus on yourself, not Dare.”

  Pain shoots through me and I look away from him, out the window, out at Dare’s empty Carriage House.

  They don’t understand. He’s what has kept my head afloat these past few weeks. I don’t know why I’m depending on him so much, I just am. And then I sent him away, because apparently, I’m a lunatic.

  I take a second bite. “Thanks for the plate,” I tell Finn. He nods.

  I chew and swallow, careful not to look at my father. I’m still pissed at him.

  I’m so pissed that my lungs feel hot and my throat feels tight.

  I take a third bite. As I chew, it begins to feel like sawdust in my mouth, like I’ll never be able to swallow it because my throat is too hot, because I can’t breathe.

  What the hell?

  Confused, I look at my plate. Polish sausage, sauerkraut, apples… and pecans.

  Pecans.

  My hands immediately fly to my throat because after three bites, it’s already swelling shut.

  I wheeze, trying to breathe. Warmth spreads through my chest as all the vessels in my lungs start to enlarge. I can feel each individual one, pulsing in my ribcage, stretching, swelling.

  “Dad,” I manage to say, getting up from the chair. He rushes to grab me, and I fall into his arms, trying to breathe with stiff lungs.

  I suck in a breath, but it won’t come. The air can’t get into the swollen tissue of my throat. It’s like a vise, constricting and squeezing.

  I’m a fish out of water, and everything turns to noises, but I can’t understand the words. The light blurs into one large color, and I think of one last thing before there’s nothing more.

  Someone just poisoned me.

  ***

  Before I open my eyes, I know where I am. I also know why.

  Someone fed me nuts.

  Someone.

  Finn.

  That knowledge is dizzying, and so I focus instead on where I am.

  I recognize the sterile medicinal smell of the hospital. I listen with my eyes closed, hearing the rubbery squeak of the nurses’ shoes, the beeps of the machines, the low murmurings out in the hallway.