11. Summer
Chapter Eleven
Summer
B y the end of dinner, I’ve barely eaten half a plate, but I did my best. I felt a little better when I saw Farrah ate around the same amount, and when Uriel prompted me, she squeezed his arm, gently indicating not to push.
Over the course of the meal, they continued to touch and press chaste kisses to each other’s cheeks, lips, and jaws.
After what Rafe said, it’s nice to see, and I can sense the boys’ cautious but growing joy at the sight.
Uriel cups Farrah’s cheek, and then he stands, lifting her with him. “Boys, clean up the plates,” he says as he strides for the stairs with Farrah in his arms, her brown skin glowing faintly.
None of the boys complain. They just exchange a cautious look of hope before quietly getting to their feet to collect the plates. Zach sidles up behind me as I reach for the gravy boat in the middle of the table.
“Sum?” I glance at him. “Thanks for coming. It’s been like an?.?.?. echo for months here.”
I don’t even hesitate before I pull him into a hug.
Oddly, I know exactly what he means about the echo.
Where the loss creates an empty space, a lack of everything, so much so that words and sounds bounce eerily off the walls, drawing attention to the void that nothing can fill.
Zach wraps his arms around me, engulfing me completely against his chest.
Luke joins us, and I wrap my arm around his shoulders, pulling him into the hug.
“It’s nice to see them be?.?.?. a little more them,” he says, and I nod.
Luke, while the baby of his family, is fiercely protective of all of them, but especially his mother.
Their bond is strong, and I know that seeing her so broken will have taken a significant toll on the youngest Morningstar.
“Yeah, today there was a little healing,” Zane says from the other side of the table, his eyes darting to his twin. I think there is more that Zach isn’t saying.
“Luke’s been fretting,” Zach says. It’s obviously a tool to redirect attention from himself. “He’s been trying to get Mom to eat.”
“She’s looking thin,” Luke says by way of an explanation, and I lean my head against his. One of my favorite things about Luke is his ability to love so deeply and unequivocally.
“So do you,” Zach says to me, holding me at arm’s length to assess my too-slender frame. I know he’s right. I’ve hated looking in the mirror because I’m lacking in everything I used to love about myself. Yet I still can’t bring myself to eat.
“I need to sleep.” I am unsure what to say to ease the concern on their faces, but exhaustion is tugging at me.
Oh, how I miss that draft Alice made for me.
I had one night of completely dreamless sleep, and it was absolute bliss.
Alice tried to get more, but apparently, there was an issue with one of the ingredients, and they couldn’t make more.
Maybe since I’m in Eden, he won’t be able to reach my dreams. One can hope.
“Are you staying in Con’s room?” Rafe asks, speaking for the first time in a while.
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of that. Last time I was here, Connor made a joke about how there weren’t any spare rooms. I stayed with him in his room, in his bed, in his arms.
“You can stay with me,” Rafe says, obviously noting the panic on my face. Out of all the boys, I didn’t think that Rafe would allow me to bunk with him, but the moment he offers, relief floods me, and I relax. “I can’t be in there either,” he says, proving once more that he does understand.
“Thank you,” I say and give him a quick hug before heading upstairs to get ready for bed.
I wonder where Uriel has put my bag, but I don’t want to interrupt them to ask.
The logical place would be in Connor’s room.
The free room. It’s the room that makes the most sense.
I stare at his door for a moment before I open it and peer in.
His scent hits me, and my heart breaks all over again.
I sob, grab my bag, and throw myself back into the hall, needing to be away from all the memories .
Back in Rafe’s bathroom, I cry quietly as I change and brush my teeth.
Tears are still streaming down my face as I climb into his bed, and I don’t try to stop them.
It is odd to be in Rafe’s room, but it’s a million times better than the alternative.
Rafe comes into the room about fifteen minutes later, and he goes into his bathroom to change into his pajamas before joining me in bed.
I dry my tears and glance at him. “Are you sure this is okay?” I ask, knowing Rafe doesn’t enjoy sharing his space.
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asks, turning the television on.
The screen is frozen on one of those realistic animated characters mid-battle.
His eyes are bulging, and his mouth is open as if he is letting loose a battle cry.
Rafe changes the channel to an old black-and-white movie.
It’s not one I recognize, but I know of similar ones from my time in the mortal realm. Grammy used to watch them all the time.
“I know you like your space,” I say.
Rafe shrugs. “I know you don’t want to be in Con’s room.” I shift in the bed, getting comfortable. “Thanks. For helping them,” he says, keeping his eyes carefully locked on the television.
“Can I help you?” I ask, studying his profile.
Rafe shoots me a look of derision. “You know that you and I aren’t like them. We don’t heal like them.”
“I know.”
“We don’t heal at all,” he says, turning his attention away. “So you already know the answer,” he continues, his voice resigned.
I tug at my fingers, watching the skin stretch and then release. “Are we beyond help?” I ask reluctantly, terrified of the answer. “Now that we have lost the best part of us?”
Rafe exhales, the questions paining him just as deeply. “I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “But they aren’t like us,” Rafe repeats. “So we figure it out for them, I guess.”
Emotion wells within me. Once again, Rafe has proven that he and I are more similar than not. His words echo the very thoughts I had earlier. Perhaps if I can help them, my place in the realms isn’t quite as pointless as it seems to be.
I nod and shift again, the exhaustion tugging at me. “Goodnight, Rafe.”
“Night. ”
The damp scent fills my nose, and my wrists and ankles burn as I shift them against the sharp metal. Everything is dark, but then?.?.?.
“Oh, good, you’re awake.”
Pain singes my chest, and my brows draw. The necklace is heating, that useless fucking necklace.
“Hello, Summer.” The voice is right beside my ear. Her voice. It sends a sickly chill down my spine, and my body trembles, anticipating the pain. It hums for it.
She toys with me, every nerve humming with agony, but it doesn’t even touch the fringes of the pain I feel when Connor’s face appears at the mouth of the ? —
I’m shaken awake, and my eyes fly open. At first, I’m sure it’s Connor above me, but his eyes aren’t quite right. The gentle blue is different, darker, angrier. My mind wants it to be him so badly, for the nightmare to be over finally, but the fuzziness of sleep evaporates, and with it, the dream.
Rafe. It’s Rafe.
I lurch up, my hand going to my throat. I gulp down air, but it’s not enough, and with every inhale, my lungs burn. Rafe nudges me and silently holds out a glass of water. The familiar broody look is fixed on his face, but it is edged with concern.
I take the glass and sip, finally getting my breathing back under control.
Rafe lies back down beside me, and I glance at him.
“Nightmare?” he asks, obviously knowing the answer but trying to fill the silence, the void screaming of our trauma and grief.
I nod and take another sip of water before lying back down.
Rafe wakes me from that same nightmare four more times throughout the night. Every time he patiently waits for me to calm down, offering me that same glass of water, but he doesn’t say anything again. He doesn’t ask any questions or offer any consoling words, and I am so grateful for it.