Sweetest in the Gale - Olivia Dade Page 0,28

discussing them in person.

Sometimes brief, bright glimpses of their old rapport shone through the veil he’d placed between them—

It appears I bludgeoned our department members into submission, she’d written after the meeting, and he’d snickered at both the memory and her choice of wording. I hope you enjoyed the show.

—but for the most part, their new relationship was everything he’d told her he wanted, and nothing he hadn’t.

To quote Shakespeare: When you depart from me sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave.

To quote his students: It sucked.

One more week of emptiness. Two.

By the time their Falling for Poetry Initiative actually began, he was coming out of his skin, agitated and exhausted and confused. Still, all their plans and activities ran smoothly the first two days of the week. He and Candy hadn’t needed to confer in person once.

In all honesty, by Tuesday afternoon, he was kind of hoping something would go wrong.

When he saw Candy after school that day, though, he regretted his wish.

Something clearly had gone wrong. That horrible grayness had leached the rosy color from her skin once more, and her face was closed as a fist. And if that wasn’t enough to alarm him, she was wearing pants. Her fine, ash-brown hair, sans headband, flopped around the sides of her stiff, still features, and she didn’t push it out of the way.

She was passing by him in the hall outside their rooms.

They made eye contact. Hers were red-rimmed.

She offered no polite smile, as she usually did. No simple, friendly greeting. Nothing but a bare nod as they crossed paths and continued in their separate directions, farther and farther apart.

He couldn’t take it.

“Candy.” Catching her good arm, he gently urged her to a stop. “Hold on a minute.”

Obediently, she turned to face him, but said nothing.

Her total lack of expression kicked his heart into a panicked gallop. Dammit, what the hell had happened to her?

He stepped closer. “Are you okay? Because I haven’t seen you look like this in—”

“It’s the three-month anniversary,” she told him in a monotone. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to make a phone call.”

Shit. Shit. He should have remembered.

July fucking fourteenth, she’d spat. My baby sister.

When she turned away, he moved in front of her.

“Candy, please.” Ducking his head, he caught her eye again. “Is there something I can do to help? Do you want to talk, or—”

Once more, she didn’t let him finish.

“I appreciate your offer. I mean that.” Her face had softened a fraction. “However, you wanted time without physical or emotional intimacy. I’m respecting your wishes. Please don’t make that process harder than it already is.”

Without further ado, she removed her arm from his loose grasp and reclaimed a step’s worth of distance.

She might as well have belted him in the gut. The formality of her words, the rejection of his offered comfort, his touch, drove the breath from his lungs.

“You’re right.” He forced out the words. “Of course you’re right. I’m sorry.”

He wanted to vomit.

He’d done this. No one but him.

He’d erected this barricade between them, scared of what might happen without it, and now he couldn’t reach her. Not even when she needed affection and understanding and everything else he had to offer her. Everything else he wanted to offer her.

And if he ever decided to tear down that barricade, he had no idea whether she’d still be waiting on the other side. If she wasn’t, he wouldn’t blame her.

“Griff…” She sighed, her bloodshot eyes sharp on his face. “It’s fine. I’m not angry. Just…trying to do what’s right.”

Fuck, why was she reassuring him?

Her attempted smile didn’t last more than a breath. “Don’t worry about me. I suppose I simply need some time too.”

Stupidly, he’d never considered how it would feel to let her hurt alone.

That was his sole option, however. At least for the moment.

“I’ll get out of your way, then.” His legs leaden weights, he moved to the side of the hall. “Please take care of yourself. And if you want me to handle more of our activities this week, just let me know. I’d be happy to help.”

Looking at the state of her, he could hardly believe she’d survived two full days of teaching and various Falling for Poetry projects. If he could ease any of her burdens for the rest of the week, the ones he could still access, he would. Gratefully.

Already turning away, she suddenly snapped her fingers and swiveled back to him. “God, I almost forgot. Yes. Yes, I could use