Chapter 21
Panic seizes me as I watch Hawthorne’s body convulse on the floor. “Thorne, Thorne, wake up.” I grip his shoulders desperately, bruising, clutching to him like the lifeline he’s become for me.
“Maybe he had too much to drink? We should call an ambulance,” Jayden says from beside me. Even more kids make a quick exit, not wanting to get caught underage drinking. The callousness shouldn’t surprise me.
The house falls quiet. Everyone except Jayden and me has run off, either pretending to try to help or saving their own ass.
Nothing anyone else says or does matters because I know the truth. I saw the way Ivan looked at him. There’s nothing that they can do; I have to be the one to fix this.
Taking Thorne’s face in my hands, I bring my ear to his mouth, desperate to hear the whisper of his breath. There’s nothing. In the absence of his heartbeat, mine skyrockets. “Thorne, don’t leave me yet. I need you.” As if the words will change anything, I repeat it over and over and over.
Instead of those dark brown eyes that’ve become my safe place, I’m met with vast whiteness as he looks up at me. “Thorne isn’t here anymore. I’m getting him out of the way, for us.”
“No,” I gasp, falling back on my heels. “No. I don’t want that; I want him. Bring him back.” The words slur with a fresh onslaught of tears as he grabs me around my wrist. “Whatever you’re doing to him, make it stop. Please.”
“Why would I do that when he’s in the way of what I want?” His hold tightens.
“What do you want? I’ll give you anything. Just please don’t hurt him.” Hawthorne’s eyes roll back in his head.
“Anything?”
“Yes.”
“His life for a favor—a deal, if you will.”
“What do you want with me? I’m not special. I have nothing to offer you.”
He tilts his head, considering me at my significantly shorter stature. “You can see and hear me. Do you not know what a special thing that is?”
“It’s not just you.”
“For years, I’ve lingered here, in this house, without so much as a second glance. And then you come along—”
“I’ll let you do whatever you want. We can go back to the way things were. Just leave him alone.”
“But this is so much better.” He sits up and tugs me closer. I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to bear the clear absence of Hawthorne in his own body. “No more compromising halfway. I can make you mine wholly and completely.”
“Not like this. Please, not like this. Anything else, I’ll do it. Just let him go.”
“So eager to strike a deal with The Devil.” His voice, layered with Hawthorne’s, is sinister and twisted. In my grief and terror, all I can do is tremble in his hold as I beg for mercy for the boy I love. “I’m no devil, Solaneen, but I do intend to own you.”
“Stop talking in riddles and just tell me what you want.” Lightheadedness threatens to overtake me as my mind and body struggle under the heightened state of duress.
“You promise that you’ll never push me away again when I come to you.” Our faces are nearly touching with how closely he leans into me. “You promise yourself to me.”
“If it means he gets to live, I’ll do anything.” A non-answer that’s a weak attempt to save us both.
“Will you be mine, or not, Solaneen? That is the choice you must make.”
“What could you possibly want from a teenage girl?” I hate myself for the choked sob that escapes me, for the weakness that overcomes me in Thorne’s time of need when he’s been such a source of strength for me.
“I want to breathe. I want to experience the living world. And you, my dear, are very much alive.” He grips me tighter, the curl of his fingers as threatening as his words. “But most of all, I want you.”
A hot tear runs freely down my cheek. “What does that mean?”
“Do you want an explanation, or do you want him to live? He’s running out of time. Yes, or no? It’s your choice.”
My mind moves a million miles a minute, but there’s only one way forward. “There’s really no choice at all, is there?” Anger rises as I find myself at another unfair crossroads.
“Yes or no? His life or his death? The clock is ticking.” The imbalance of power between us swells as he looms over me and holds out his hand.
It remains there as I weigh how wise it is to trust something that shouldn’t even exist in the first place.
Then I see clearly. He’s ripped me across the veil by the heart, luring me into a situation where I can’t possibly say no, and he encourages me to strike a deal that I know I’ll be paying for the rest of my life.
It’s as if the inside of my throat is swelling, trapping the words I don’t want to say. I open my mouth, but there’s no sound, only silence spilling from my aching soul. But then, horrid, throaty gasping comes from Hawthorne as he spasms. I watch in shock as he goes completely still.
My hesitation becomes desperation at the chilling sight.
“No, please. We have a deal.” Our hands shake, and the chime of the grandfather clock rattles through the house like an earthquake. Hawthorne’s limp body falls to the ground, his head slamming into the hardwood.
Ivan disappears into the void, leaving me at the brink of uncertainty. Was I too late?
I clutch Hawthorne’s too-cold hand, as I silently plead with him not to leave me. I try not to lose hope. The few minutes he’s out drag torturously before he takes a deep, gasping breath, and wide brown eyes meet mine.
“Where did you go?” he asks, and I’m speechless. Jayden finally snaps out of his shock, crawling over to us. Our eyes meet, and I shake my head, demanding his silence until I find out what Hawthorne remembers. Begrudgingly, he nods.
Another slow morning, and it would be the dream, but we’re not in a position to enjoy quiet breakfasts and lazy days. Something is deeply wrong. I can feel it in my bones; they ache with anticipation, and not the good kind.
I can bear the possibility of losing myself, but I won’t let our circumstances rob me of Hawthorne. We’re in purgatory—waiting for what’s next with no direction—but I’m no stranger to finding stolen moments.
Concern festers inside me. I’ve given it time, but if Hawthorne won’t talk about what’s plaguing him, I can’t just keep pretending everything is fine. Because even in this, the ebb and flow of his pain, he protects me. I hate it.
Does he think I can’t handle it? That I can’t shoulder his weight for a bit? I thought I’d grown stronger in the years I’d been gone—hardened, protected myself with absence. But, true to nature, animals with the hardest shells are the most vulnerable once they’re cracked.
I’ve cracked.
Swept up in Hawthorne’s embrace, I’ve allowed myself to rely on him as my defense; he gave me room to do so. The problem is, we aren’t through the hardest part of this yet. Who’s protecting him if he’s so busy keeping both eyes on me?
I refuse to allow him to suffer for my sake.
Now isn’t the time for healing; it’s time for raising our guards. We need to be building ourselves up, preparing for the worst.
But Thorne isn’t all there right now. He’s distracted, wounded, and in denial.
“Let’s go.” I hold my hand out for his.
“Where are we going?”
“Did you have somewhere else to be?” The silence that follows confirms my expectations. “Then you’ll see when we get there.”
I tug him along to the large back deck where I’ve set out his old fencing equipment.
“What’s this?” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.
“We’re going to get some real practice in, like old times, and you’re going to tell me what’s going on in your head.”
“I’m not really in the mood.”
“I know. But you and I both know that moving helps you clear your head. We’ve done nothing but lie around for the last two days.”
“I’m not sure about this…”
“Look,” I say, lifting the sabre with the obvious red tip in one hand and a mask in the other. “Safety first.”
He pulls his lip between his teeth, looking from me to the equipment.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Thorne. Whatever you’re keeping bottled up might though.
” I hold up my hand as he opens his mouth to likely deny that he’s hiding anything.
“I don’t want to pry, and I know you’re not purposely keeping something from me, but the truth remains the same.
This is for you, but it’s also for me.” I toss him the mask and put mine on.
Reluctantly, he slips it on and grabs his tipped sabre. “My dad would be horrified if he could see us out here, not even properly suited up.”
“I trust you. Besides, you’ve already died, and well…I know you won’t hurt me. Come on, Thorne, it’s fine.” I maneuver so I can swat his ass.
“That one doesn’t count.” He spins on his heel to face me.
“Whatever you say, sir.”
“Don’t start with that, or we’ll be playing a very different game.”
“Stop trying to distract me. You’re not getting out of this.” I lunge at him, and he very easily parries.
“Fine, but you asked for it.” He attacks and lands the flat of it on the side of my thigh. The sting is nothing when I can see that spark lighting in his eyes.
“That all you got?” I prod, retreating a few steps. “Come on.”
“If you insist.” He advances on me, and the determination in his shoulders sends a tingle down my spine.
He’s all fluid, muscular grace, a lifetime of training making his movements as natural as walking.
He’s a work of art. Beautiful and awe-inspiring.
I’ve had these thoughts before watching him raise medals in his fist and winning championships.
Hawthorne Addams is something to behold.
Right now, that shine is dulled by whatever’s happening between Jayden and him.
I know that I must have something to do with it, but I’m secure enough in our relationship right now that I’m not going to try to wedge myself between them.
Jayden will have to bear the brunt of burning their bond down if I’m the source of their rift, because I have no intention of forcing Thorne to choose.
In my distraction, he lands a hit on my side. “Get your head in the game, Nightingale. Don’t make it too easy for me.”