02-10-2019, 08:38 PM
Natalie watched him, blank faced, as the words found a mark and began to chew. Something more vulnerable than fate hung in that balance, and she removed herself from its touch; hollow as every photo that existed from her father’s trial. She could have asked him about the deal outright, but no amount of conviction would outshine the shadows of doubt hovering around any explanation he offered. The price of deception, intentional or otherwise. The final answer snapped like the crack of bone, but was strangely painless. He probably never heard the breath loose from her lungs, or if he did, he misread the source of her relief.
Because his face fell to his palms. That crush of pain was harder to witness, and an unwelcome surprise, but shallow comfort was not her first instinct. She barely heard Cayli’s questing “Jay?” from across the pool, caught in the jaws of the dark place he dwelt. She’d seen the self-imposed grimness of that prison before, but had never been the one to put him there. It never even occurred to her she had such power to misuse.
Light, he really believed he was alone.
The epiphany stilled her. Jay moved before she reacted. Her gaze rose to the open accusation of Cayli’s stare for what she caught of the conversation. Droplets ran the lines of her face, brows narrow, as Jay stalked away. Disappointment drooped her shoulders as she watched her brother’s retreating back. “You told him you were leaving?”
“No. But I guess it’s what he heard.”
“Well duh.” Cay’s eyes rolled skyward. Frustration simmered for those few moments of peace lost all too quickly, not that Natalie blamed her. But there was something calculating there too as her gaze blinked to where Jay had disappeared. The girl continued to watch as Natalie lifted her feet from the pool. The flagstones were hot beneath the soles of her feet but she didn’t pause for shoes. Suspicion pinched Cayli’s expression, and the glint of something more. “Don’t say it, Cay.”
“You mean the I told you so? Because I did tell you so.”
Natalie followed the path he had taken into the house, bare feet padding against the hardwood floors. “No drama, he says, before flouncing off. All you need is the sunset and stetson.” Jay was too obtuse to absorb whatever words might calm him, and she was too irreverent to soothe that pain with anything short of dry humour. Natalie recognised walls as thick as her own; that touch of cynicism numb as novocaine, to soothe the path that cut a loss before it was felt. She didn’t know what damaged him enough to assume he wasn’t worth the risk, but she understood the sentiment more deeply than she cared to.
At the ball he’d reached for her hand like the discovery of a lost connection. She sought it again now; every incidental moment that had burned so inexplicably strong, never quite captured for wariness of the flame. Her fingers brushed his; a more certain promise than anything she would choose to articulate in its stead. Her palm held his, tugged him a path to follow. Not that she knew the house beyond Jessika’s brief tour. And maybe because she was stalling words that did not come easy.
“I wasn’t asking permission.” If he ever imagined her so demure in her convictions, he was utterly mistaken. She was a creature of defiance, even against her best interests. To spite them sometimes. The words were curt. He’d be wrong to think she wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t a lashing rage seeking an outlet. Cold logic nudged aside her feelings on what he’d done. The subject of her father was never going to be an easy one, but assumption was poor armour against Alistair Grey.
“Cayli was under the impression I was staying. Because my father wants me outside of the Custody. What did you promise him, Jay?”
Because his face fell to his palms. That crush of pain was harder to witness, and an unwelcome surprise, but shallow comfort was not her first instinct. She barely heard Cayli’s questing “Jay?” from across the pool, caught in the jaws of the dark place he dwelt. She’d seen the self-imposed grimness of that prison before, but had never been the one to put him there. It never even occurred to her she had such power to misuse.
Light, he really believed he was alone.
The epiphany stilled her. Jay moved before she reacted. Her gaze rose to the open accusation of Cayli’s stare for what she caught of the conversation. Droplets ran the lines of her face, brows narrow, as Jay stalked away. Disappointment drooped her shoulders as she watched her brother’s retreating back. “You told him you were leaving?”
“No. But I guess it’s what he heard.”
“Well duh.” Cay’s eyes rolled skyward. Frustration simmered for those few moments of peace lost all too quickly, not that Natalie blamed her. But there was something calculating there too as her gaze blinked to where Jay had disappeared. The girl continued to watch as Natalie lifted her feet from the pool. The flagstones were hot beneath the soles of her feet but she didn’t pause for shoes. Suspicion pinched Cayli’s expression, and the glint of something more. “Don’t say it, Cay.”
“You mean the I told you so? Because I did tell you so.”
Natalie followed the path he had taken into the house, bare feet padding against the hardwood floors. “No drama, he says, before flouncing off. All you need is the sunset and stetson.” Jay was too obtuse to absorb whatever words might calm him, and she was too irreverent to soothe that pain with anything short of dry humour. Natalie recognised walls as thick as her own; that touch of cynicism numb as novocaine, to soothe the path that cut a loss before it was felt. She didn’t know what damaged him enough to assume he wasn’t worth the risk, but she understood the sentiment more deeply than she cared to.
At the ball he’d reached for her hand like the discovery of a lost connection. She sought it again now; every incidental moment that had burned so inexplicably strong, never quite captured for wariness of the flame. Her fingers brushed his; a more certain promise than anything she would choose to articulate in its stead. Her palm held his, tugged him a path to follow. Not that she knew the house beyond Jessika’s brief tour. And maybe because she was stalling words that did not come easy.
“I wasn’t asking permission.” If he ever imagined her so demure in her convictions, he was utterly mistaken. She was a creature of defiance, even against her best interests. To spite them sometimes. The words were curt. He’d be wrong to think she wasn’t angry, but it wasn’t a lashing rage seeking an outlet. Cold logic nudged aside her feelings on what he’d done. The subject of her father was never going to be an easy one, but assumption was poor armour against Alistair Grey.
“Cayli was under the impression I was staying. Because my father wants me outside of the Custody. What did you promise him, Jay?”