Vane
"Dirt. Pine trees. And you."
The words left my mouth and I watched them land.
Harper sat up so fast the blanket slid off the sofa. Her eyes went wide. Then wider. Then she opened her mouth and didn't close it for approximately four seconds.
"You— what— the same— how long have you—"
Four broken syllables. Pulse climbing fast. The heat coming off her skin had spiked.
"Sleep," I said. "We'll talk tomorrow."
"We will absolutely not sleep. You just told me you— that we— you can't just drop that and—"
I closed my eyes. Evened my breathing. Went limp.
"Vane. Vane. I know you're not asleep. Your breathing changed two seconds before you closed your eyes. I'm not stupid. Vane."
I didn't move.
A pillow hit my face.
I didn't move.
Forty-five seconds of furious silence. Then a single
