Anopening in the trees gave way to a field of cut grass and clear sky. I lookedupward to see the stars and heavenly sky, grateful for the gentle touch of windagainst my face. For a few deep breaths, I walked with my eyes on the sky,unafraid for a moment of what dwelled in the forest.
“Rosie…”
Thecall came from somewhere in the distance. It was Alec, his voice carried by thewind, its tone full of passion and affection. I smiled, remembering the briefmoments of our coupling with a rush of warmth between my legs. I wanted him. Iwanted him so damn much, again and again, for whatever time we had together. Istared at the sky, hoping he would call to me once more so that I might knowthe direction in which his voice came from, so I could go to him. I waited andlistened, deaf to the footsteps against dead leaves behind me and oblivious tothe presence that now enveloped the clearing I stood in. And when his voicedidn’t call, and I brought my gaze back down to the empty field, there wasGracie.
Goosebumpsscattered over my arms like raindrops, trickling all the way down to my nakedtoes, as I stared at her soulless eyes. Her cracked, peeling lips were pulledback from her teeth with a sinister grin, one of malice and frightful intent.As the stink of rotted flesh permeated the sliver of air between us, I beggedmy legs to run, but they were frozen, stuck to the damp ground and freezinggrass.
“Letme go,” I managed to croak through trembling lips. “Gracie, please. Let me go.”
Shesneered as she raised a bony hand, barren of flesh. Her engagement ring hungloose from one finger, rattling against the bone. She reached out and graspedmy face tightly, and I opened my mouth to scream but the sound trapped in mythroat.
“Don’tforget about me, Rosie,” she whispered. “Don’t you dare forget about me.”
Then,she opened her mouth. Wider and wider, her jaw unhinged, until her chin touchedher chest.
Andthen, she screamed.
“““
“Didye sleep?” Alec asked the next morning, as I walked into the kitchen to take aseat at the table.
“Whatdo you think?”
Acup of coffee was placed on the table beneath my eyes, and I looked up to seehim standing over me. His expression pained me, reminding me too much of whathad happened the night before when we’d returned from the forest. I knew hewanted to talk, and I knew what he was going to say. But I didn’t want to hearany of it. I didn’t want to listen to him say we’d never do it again or that itnever should have happened, because as much as I also believedthat,I didn’t have it in me to accept it.
“Rosie…”
Thesound of my name on his lips reminded me of our time in the foyer and of mynightmare, and I closed my eyes to the tendrils of steam rising from the mug.
“Idon’t want to do this right now, Alec,” I said.
“Butwedoneed to talk about it,” he pressed firmly, sitting beside me. “Wecannaejust ignore that it happened.”
Ilifted my head abruptly to stare at him. “And why not?”
“BecauseIdinnaewant to,” he retorted, raising his voice abit. Then, wiping a head over his mouth, he diverted his eyes and continued, “Ijust … I need to know that itwillnaehappen again.”
Ilooked away from him, to point my gaze out the window and toward the garden wherewe had first kissed. I remembered his whisky-coated lips and tongue and cravedthem now as much as I had then. Feeling so much all at once was exhausting, andnow, the ache of rejection was added to my collection of fear, anger, grief,lust, and despair. It made me wonder when I’d ever be able to sleep again.
“It—”
“Rosie,it’s not that Idinnaefancy ye,” he said, hurryingwith his excuses. “I do. I fancy ye a lot, and that’s the problem. Because oncethis is over, and it will be soon, I know ye’llhave toleave. And Idinnaethink I’ll have it in me to letye go if we’re too … involved.”
Iswallowed at the sticky boulder in my throat, before replying, “Isn’t it toolate for that?”
Thatresponse shut him up for a moment. He sat there, dumbfounded, as neither of ustouched our coffee. As right as I knew he was, I hoped he would take it back. Iwanted him to reopen the door he just closed, in the event we found ourselvesneeding to cross that threshold again. But he didn’t, and as he stood from thetable in a hurry and muttered an apology, I bit my lip to stop myself fromcrying and again longed for this all to be over.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
ALEC
“So,ye’retellin’ me ye never want her again,” Rick said,re-bandaging one of the many cuts on his hand that he’d obtained fromyesterday’s gardening.
“Ididnaesaythat,” I replied,stepping inside Rick’s study. “And what the hell did ye do? Get into a brawlwith the lawn mower?”
“Ha-ha,”he grumbled sardonically. “Foryerinformation, mate,I finally decided to tackle my mother’s rose bushes.”
“Ah,”I said, nodding. “I see they won.”
