Chapter Two
Dante
Most men would be bored with watching their woman looking more and more miserable day after day. Not me. My days spent near Sian were the best. Her sadness wasn’t. I hated that I had no way of helping her through her pain. Heather wouldn’t have wanted this. I knew deep down into my core, she’d have begged for us to do something.
There was nothing to do but wait.
Gideon’s patience wore thin every single day.
William had grown more serious with every passing day, and the biggest shock was I missed my old friend. I missed him telling jokes or laughing about something fucked up and silly. I wanted him back with a passion.
Then of course was Mateo. He’d gotten more silent. I had no idea what was going on inside his head. I could try to pretend, but it wouldn’t do us any favors. There were times I felt I had lost him.
Late at night, like now, with the guys all gone, our dads having spoken for long hours into the night, I lay in bed, waiting for sleep.
It never came. More often than not, I’d sleep as the sun started to rise. A couple of hours seemed to last me.
After grabbing my notebook, I flicked the pages over, assessing my work. The book I’d filled with Sian in the hospital was locked up in a safe in my closet. No one was to see that kind of work.
She refused to get her hair cut or trimmed to make the bottom look neater. I didn’t know what her protest was, but it was her protest to have, not mine.
I liked her hair. When she put it in a ponytail, no one was the wiser.
Who hacked off her hair?
I was tempted to call Mateo and tell him to get Fred on the case. The not knowing was worse than anything else.
We had a pact, though. None of us would bring an outsider into this world.
With my pencil to the paper, I started to sketch the image of Sian from memory. The way she looked at Heather’s graveside. The raw emotion, the pain, all of it adding up to the point today.
I heard the squeak of my floorboard, and I tensed up.
Sian did this regularly.
Did she know I heard her?
The light I had on in my room was quite dull. I didn’t need full light to work. The darkness helped me to draw the pain she was in.
I waited.
She stayed for many seconds or minutes at a time before leaving me. I wanted to go to the door, open it, pull her into my arms, and promise her it was going to be okay. Who was I to make such promises when I couldn’t guarantee them? I had nothing to back it up.
So I waited.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
There was a soft knock at the door, shocking me. At first, I didn’t respond, sure my hopeful mind was playing tricks on me, but I heard it.
After throwing my blankets off, I rushed toward the door and flung it open just as Sian had turned to leave.
“Sian,” I said.
She wrapped her arms around her body. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Sian, there’s no intrusion here. You’re always welcome.”
I wanted to go to her, but I stepped back into my room. “You can come in,” I said.
She glanced down the hall, and I held myself perfectly still before she nodded. Her hair fell around her in waves, and I saw the damage that had been done.
The sight alone sickened me. I wanted to kill the bastard who did that to her, seeing her best friend dying and then attacking her.
Anger rushed through me, but I kept it deep inside where it belonged.
Sian came toward me. Each step, I felt like doing a victory dance. When she stepped over the threshold, I had to promise myself to keep my cool. To not lose my shit.
After I closed the door, we stood still, neither of us moving.
“Did I wake you?” she asked, filling the silence.
“No.”
“Are you sure? You … you weren’t busy?”
“No. I’m not busy.” I ran a finger down her arm. Going to the bed, I grabbed the notebook and flipped it closed.
“You were drawing?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Can I see?”
I cringed inside but kept my face neutral. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why? Are they dirty pictures?” she asked with a chuckle.
I stared at her. “That wouldn’t be so bad,” I said.
“Oh, they’re bad?”
“They’re not good.” I looked at the notebook.
“It’s fine.”
I didn’t want her hating me, so I held the notebook to her. “It’s … I don’t mean to hurt you.”
She frowned as she opened the book. I waited, tense, wondering what she would say or do.
“Oh,” she said.
“Look, I know you probably hate them. I’m sorry. It was a private moment.” I stopped as she flicked the next page over, then the other.
“You draw everything.”
“I like to capture it all.”
She looked up. “You don’t like a photograph?”
“No. I hate how sterile they are.”
“You think they’re sterile?”
“It’s a … a picture can be taken from miles away. We’ve seen it all over the internet. Pictures of the world. There doesn’t have to be any contact at all. Art isn’t like that to me.”
“It must be nice being to draw everything you see. Those of us who can’t, the camera is always good.”
I laughed. “I don’t mind pictures like that. I just, I like to draw. It’s who I am. It’s what I do.”
“And you do it so wonderfully. You really are amazing.”
I loved her compliments.
“I look so sad.”
“You are sad.” I reached out, taking the notebook from her.
“Do you draw all the time like this?” she asked.
“Yes. I have plenty of books from years gone past.”
“Oh.” She pushed some hair out of her face. “Must be nice to have some form of memories.”
I knew she didn’t have many pictures of her life with Drew or her parents.
“Not that I mind, but why did you come?” I asked.
She glanced around the room. Her hands clasped together. “I … I don’t want to sleep alone tonight, if that is okay. I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“I don’t have a problem with it.” In fact, I wanted her to come to me, to want to be in my bed. I moved toward the bed, lifting up the blankets and slapping the space beside me. “You’re always welcome.”
She laughed. “Always?”
“I’ll never complain to you being in my bed.” I rubbed the spot. “Always welcome.”
“What about your dad?”
“He was aware of what happened Halloween night. Believe me, he’s more of a be-safe-and-protect kind of guy. Besides, you’re different. You know that.”
I waited for her to make the decision. She wanted to come to my bed, but now her old insecurities were flooding back. Her hands clenched, and slowly, she came toward me, sliding in beside me. I wrapped the blanket over her, reminding myself to be the perfect gentleman with her.
“See, not so bad, is it?” I asked.
“I missed you,” she said.