Page 46 of Gravehouse

I pull my knees to my chest in the leather seat, and there it is, the faint kickback of my gun. Smell the wet-iron reek of it. See his blood on my hands.

Why the fuck couldn’t I remember that I loved him.

Spotify blurs through the burn of my vision, but I fight the tears that threaten to spill.

Asher shifts in his sleep, jaw going tight. Even unconscious he’s violence-ready, and that’s because of me. I did this. Turned him from prince to villain.

The pilot hits the cabin intercom. “Beginning our descent into Désamour. Twenty minutes to landing.”

He peels his eyes open, that blue-white stare on mine across the cabin, and my ribs lock.

Minutes pass, or maybe seconds, then the jolt of landing breaks the stare-down.

Désamour’s airstrip runs gray and wet under February drizzle.

Home.

Only, when the word passes through me, I feel nothing.

Daniel and Sinead are already posted at the cars as we slow to a stop.

Why the fuck is he still looking at me like that?

His thumb skims over his lower lip, focus still on me. “You look worried.”

I dig my nails into my palms. “I am.”

“Well don’t be.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “My performance will be almost as good as yours.”

My mouth drops open. “Asher.”

Swinging a duffle over his shoulder, he stands to his full height. “What? Isn’t that what we do now?”

He kicks the door open. “Perform. Play our parts.” A rough laugh slips out of him. “Since we’re both such good fucking actors.”

He gives me no room to answer, already heading out the exit.

My performance will be almost as good as yours.

We turn onto a dirt road,and I feel myself slowly relax. Vines wind up the weathered walls, the house rising from the roll of mountains. We stop outside, and Daniel heads straight for the trunk.

I shove my door open.

Gravel crunches under my boots as I step into the old driveway. It’s been years since I’ve been back here, yet it feels like yesterday that I left.

Shivers wrack through me and I run my hands up and down my arms. Colder than I remember, yet warmth still exists here and I’m guessing it has nothing to do with the weather and everything to do with who’s inside.

Asher closes his door with a thud and rounds my side, his face completely blank.

Daniel lifts my duffel. “You good?”

“I’ll be fine,” I say, but my smile falls a second too early.

The front door swings open before we reach it, and Nonna steps out with a bright smile. “Ma petite!”

I walk straight into her arms. “Nonna,” I breathe.

She smells of jasmine and silver. Like home.