What if he dies next? What if it is you? What if your ghosts consume all that you love?
But it wasn't voices in my head that gave me this doubt, it was a voice beside my ear, bending low so that I could hear his soft words before I turned to gaze into his medium blue eyes, cocked and ready to destroy everything I love.
You can't keep him safe, Neamhchiontach.
That confirmation had me running. Maybe if I ran fast enough time would unravel, the clocks would go back and I could undo the damage, mitigate the danger and save Lochlan's life. The fear built into my mind that I could push away, pretending it isn't there came rushing out, regret flooding in to fill its place.
Oh my God, I told his face and Caleb smiled.
They found me with the fuel and our wedding clothes on the floor of the garage, blubbering nonsense to Jacob. Apologizing for finally having the stupid nerve to go behind his back and marry Lochlan, admitting that Henry was his but I hadn't had the nerve to come and tell him because it was busy at the wedding and on my honeymoon. What a stupid, reckless, foolish and damning attempt to rewrite history that's already been written on my behalf. What a risk.
What a shame.
I lit the dress up like the fourth of July and all the sprinklers went off, smoking out the whole garage and making a mess. I didn't leave, wouldn't leave, sinking down into the smoke and when hands finally landed on my head, Lochlan's voice broke in a yell,
I've got her! He faltered on the sound but I was taken off my feet and out of the garage into the fresh sunlit air, covered with soot, my fingers burned and part of the sleeve of my sweater, inconsolable, exhausted and still fiercely determined to undo everything we did in case the Devil is right. In case the Devil comes for Lochlan next.
What were you thinking? Lochlan asks me and I turn and stare at him, eyes pouring tears, mouth agape because he knows this was a bad idea and he blames me for it to, because we both knew damn well Caleb's never going to let us be together and everything he's done thus far has been a show of force to make sure we never forget what he's capable of.
I'm sorry, I tell Lochlan. Sorry that he fell in love with me. Sorry that he's still in love with me. Sorry that I thought we could have a life together. Sorry that I told him I could handle this, that I wanted this, when I should have protected him better.
What are you talking about? His own fear and confusion made me absolutely hysterical, and the last thing I remember was screaming, trying to sit down on the floor, trying to get out of his arms, trying to implode so that I wouldn't have to deal with that fear anymore.
This fear, I mean.
The one that doesn't bother me so much when I have this much quicksand in my blood. The one that can't catch me as long as I outrun it, trick it, do anything but this.
I spoke by phone to Claus, telling him that everything is bullshit, that Lochlan can't stand there and tell me he's going to live forever. I've watched people die. I've made people die. I've got enough presence of mind to understand when a person can't make a promise they want to make so badly and fright sent me reeling once again.
August caught me as I went past him and I hyperventilated so hard I blacked out. When I woke up I was in my bed, safe. Lochlan was there, safe. Ben too. Sam and August. PJ. Joel, who got an eleventh hour phone call because the last time I did this they cornered me in the castle and shot me up on the floor or I would have gone right out the fucking window. It's Cole. Cole is back to life in Caleb's form and he's going to kill all of us.
He can't hurt you any more.
Sure he can. Look who lives next door! Look who started it!
But a week later I'm still exhausted and not as panicky anymore and while I'm aware that Caleb's words are just that, words, borne out of jealousy and covetousness, I'm still not so sure that he's wrong.
Nothing in history disproves his observations and I don't know if I want to take risks anymore.
Too late, Lochlan reassures me. I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. I could have told you that before you torched my hat. And your dress, Bridget...we can't replace it.
I don't care about things, just people. Just you.
He doesn't have a right to take your happiness or your memories, Peanut.
Too late.
