Page 18 of The Castle (Endgame 3)
The change in him happens in degrees. He doesn’t soften. That word doesn’t suit him. But he believes in me, and that’s even better. “Five minutes.”
“Ten,” I say, pushing to my toes so I can kiss his cheek. The scruff of his jaw abrades my lips, a small reminder of the punishment he wields when he wants to.
Candy links arms with me, pulling me away before I can change my mind.
My heart lurches when we round the corner, leaving the men staring after us. It’s silly to be afraid, especially because Candy hadn’t been exaggerating about the distance. There’s a private bathroom tucked into this corner, separate from the one I had used before on the main floor. A lavish parlor with a sofa and lighted dressing table fill the carpeted bathroom. Two stalls are set deep in the room.
Candy collapses on the sofa, looking like a glamorous star from black-and-white movies in her glittering gown. “Sit by me. Tell me how you are. We only have a few minutes before they come looking for us.”
That makes me laugh as I sink into the plush cushions with her. “You’re probably right. A WOMAN sign on the door isn’t going to stop them.”
“Hardly. And they’ve both been worried, even though they try to hide it. I’ve never seen Ivan like this.”
The reminder sobers me. “This is the first time I’ve left Gabriel’s house since that night.”
Blue eyes widen. “Are you serious? I would go stir-crazy. At least I get to go to the Grand. Ivan comes with me, which is stifling enough.”
It’s like a lungful of air to have someone understand me. “I know he just wants to keep me safe, but it’s a different kind of dangerous, being all locked away like this.”
“Loneliness?”
I look away. “I don’t know.”
She takes my hand. “You can trust me.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy in those rooms, all alone.”
Like my mother went crazy. At least she felt that way. It turned out that there were speakers in the walls, but that can’t be the case in Gabriel’s house. There’s security. There are guards. It’s perfectly safe.
So why do I still hear voices?
Worry darkens her liquid eyes. “Have you told Gabriel about this?”
“No way,” I say immediately. “He would just freak out. More than he already does.”
She bites her lip, which is pink and plump. “He could help you.”
He already thinks I’m going to go running to Jonathan Scott, like my mother did. If he knows I hear voices too, he will never trust me. And I want that more than anything—maybe even more than sanity.
“Let’s go back,” I say. “Once he starts coming to the bathroom with me, he might not stop.”
We find the men standing beside the table, waiting for us. I don’t miss the flash of relief when Gabriel sees me turn the corner. My own heart slows half a beat, my body calmed by his presence. It’s like we both feel the invisible forces pulling us apart, both hear the voices in the walls. Only when we’re together does it seem possible to beat them.
He gives me a slight smile. “I ordered for you.”
Suddenly I feel shy. The domesticity of it. The intimacy, deeper than sharing our bodies. “Shrimp cocktail?”
“In the largest glass they have.” He bends to kiss my forehead. It feels like a shot of warmth in the middle of winter.
He pulls out a chair, and I move to sit. Only when my butt touches the wooden surface do I hear the crack in the air. Only when I look up do I see the split of wood in the wall, at the same height as my head.
The world reduces to seconds. One second. Two. And then Gabriel’s hands are on me, harsher than they have ever been before, pushing me down to the floor.
Three. He lands on top of me, his weight pushing the air from my lungs.
Four. Another crack. Someone is shooting at us.
Someone tried to shoot me.
Five. Six. Seven. My heartbeat thunders in my ears.
I can’t hear anything, and then all at once I hear everything. Screaming the night of the fire. My mother’s voice. Only this time she isn’t telling me to stay inside.
From somewhere deep in my memory, when I was too young to understand, too little to know what it meant, I heard her on the phone.
“I’ll meet you there,” she whispers, her hand cupping the receiver.
I’m huddled beneath the vanity, clutching the doll with long hair. I know she’ll be mad if she finds me here. I should have gone to sleep an hour ago.
She leaves the room, and I feel the walls shift as she leaves. Daddy is at work, like he always is. I know Rosita is downstairs sleeping if I really need something. Sometimes I wake her up because I don’t want to be alone. At least that’s what I tell her.
