“This room is my favorite. I’m sure you can tell why.”
It’s remarkable, I’ll give it that. Money poorly spent to mark a family as wealthy and important in their time.
The ceilings lift seven feet above my head, designed to mimic individual tiles with different heavenly references carved into each one. In the center of the room, a short wrought iron fence surrounds a plot of bare land, while box crypts line the walls. Small windows allow a touch of light into the deep shadows, the glass dirty, tiny branches tapping against the panes with each gust of wind.
“Samuel Rinehart is interred in the center. This was the original intent of the mausoleum. His resting place. But given the size, the family decided to use it as a family vault later on.”
I hope the Rineharts won’t mind me using it as well. Not for the same purpose, of course.
Even if they do, there isn’t a damn thing they can say about it.
I match Adeline’s every step, our path working a slow half circle around the center plot until we’re on the other side.
Pausing, she glances over her shoulder at me, my silence frightening her, as it should.
She flashes a wobbly smile, turning so that we’re facing each other. “Why aren’t you saying anything?”
My voice is a low whisper. “I’m still wondering why you’re here.”
She grows quiet, head turning so that I’m studying her profile instead of her face.
I won’t let her hide.
I won’t hide.
Not anymore.
“To show you these-“
“Stop lying.”
Her eyes snap to me, round wider. I reach to rub my thumb beneath one of them.
“You’ve been crying.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Tell me why.”
Adeline stills, her thumb rubbing over her wedding ring, the small habit she probably doesn’t even notice, but that tells me everything she isn’t saying.
“I got into an argument with my -“
“Husband,” I finish for her.
Another panicked flash of blue as her eyes meet mine for a second.
She tries to step away from me, but I move to trap her against a crypt, her back pressing against the stone as eyes that have driven me to a point of madness lift with secrets swimming behind them.
My fingers snatch her chin before she can back away from me, my eyes pinning hers, silence lingering between us.
“Why are you really here?” I whisper, my body inching closer. I’m daring her to answer, daring her to remember, daring her to recognize the shadow that stands over her in every photograph on my walls.
She attempts to free her face from my hand, but it’s weak at best. Not really an attempt at all. Just something she does so she can tell herself that she hasn’t asked for what will happen.
I lower my head, search her face, bring my lips within a teasing inch of hers. Frantic breath colliding with calm. Frightened eyes battling determination. Soft versus hard. Light versus dark. We are opposites in every way, and yet still so very much the same.
“Why are you here?”
Another shake of her head, the denial so thick, I can slice it down the middle, watch it slide out from behind the meaty flesh.
“Tell me.”
Defiance blazes in her eyes. “I’m here to show you-“
My thumb presses against her lips. “Tell me the truth.”
Her gaze narrows, and I grin.
“It’s because he doesn’t make you happy. There’s your answer. So the new question is: At what point will you finally admit it?”
My lips brush hers, so soft it could have been an accident. But even that has been enough to shake her to the core, to widen those eyes still glimmering with old tears.
I’m done playing, my bonds free, my shackles left in the middle of a sunlit field where angels and headstones stand in silent repose mourning the hero that died the minute she stepped up to me.
“Answer me.”
A moment of indecision before she does. Not with words or excuses. Not with explanations or pretty stories. Not with anything but the girl I know lingers beneath the polished wrappings, with the monster that has the ability to drop me to my knees.
Her mouth presses against mine seeking permission. Soft. Hesitant. Unsure.
I won’t make it easy for her, though, won’t rush the first time she will betray her vows.
Adeline wants someone else to blame for what we both know she needs.
I won’t be her scapegoat.
However, I will meet her in the middle, my palm moving to cup her cheek, my body pressing against hers with the same need I feel vibrating just beneath her skin.