Chapter Twenty-Seven
She’s pulling away. Withdrawing into herself. I can feel it. I can see it in the tightness of her jaw, the set of her mouth. I feel like I’m eleven again, and trapped in the barn. Fear clutches at me, sinks her icy fingers into my heart, whispers taunting phrases inside my head that turn my blood to ice.
She’s leaving.
You’rre nnnnot worrrrrrrtthhhyyyy.
You don’t deserve happiness.
And that’s the truth, because this last week, as I’ve made funeral arrangements for a woman I don’t know, and doted on her daughter, plying her with food by day and orgasms by night, I’ve been happy. I’ve felt… worthy, useful. Needed.
Emmaline needs me, I shout back to the wraith-like voice in my head.
More importantly, I need her.
But as I catch Emmaline’s eye across the decorated H
