Whispered Darkness by Jessica Sorensen Page 0,9
not what that is. That’s controlling. That’s …” I shake my head, irritated. “He always accused you of being the stalker, but really, he is. Tonight, I overheard him say that I’m his, like I’m not even a person.”
He fiddles with the keychain dangling from the ignition. “Can I tell you something? It’s something that has to do with that secret I told you about.”
I nod. “Of course. You can tell me anything, and I promise I won’t tell anyone.”
“I know. And I want you to know you can tell me anything, too.” He means what he says, too. I wonder how he can so easily believe me? If he just does or if he can feel that connection, too. “And I want to hear more about what happened with this sleepwalking thing, but I need to tell you this first.” He glances out the windshield, his gaze sweeping the crowd and the fire in the distance. “Is it okay if we leave here, though? I don’t like that my brother could show up at any moment.”
I nod, reaching for the seatbelt. “What about Porter? Don’t you need to get him?”
“He’s actually not here,” he says as he starts the engine.
“Really?” I lift a brow and smile for the first time since … well, in a while. “Aren’t you two like joined at the hip or something?”
“No.” He flips on the headlights and a sliver of light slips into the cab, just enough that I can see the slightest smile on his face. “We’re more like attached at the pinkie.”
My smile widens, but then it falters as I spot Foster striding up the road toward Kingsley’s car.
“If you want to avoid Foster, you might want to take off now,” I say, pointing at Foster.
Kingsley glances that way and mutters a string of curses. Then he throws the shifter in reverse and backs out of the space, driving off the road to turn the car around in the space of field beside it.
I twist around in the seat and peer out the window as Kingsley backs down the road. Foster is no longer walking, but he’s watching the car drive away. I can’t see his face, but I can envision how mad he probably looks. Weird, because I used to not be able to do that—picture him mad.
Moments from pulling away, Kingsley receives a text.
He digs his phone out of his pocket, reads the message, and then shakes his head. “God, my brother is so annoying,” he mutters then glances at me. “Sorry.”
“Sorry for what?” I ask. But then it dawns on me. “Wait—are you apologizing for insulting Foster?”
“Yeah, I just …” He shrugs, setting his phone on the console. “I honestly don’t know why I did it. It’s just kind of a habit to think you’ll defend him.”
“Well, consider the habit broken,” I promise. “Forever.”
He drives farther away from the party. “Okay.” He pauses. “He wants to know if you’re with me.”
“That’s why he keeps messaging you?”
“Yep.”
“What does the message say exactly?”
He hands me the phone. “You can read it if you want to?”
I’m a little surprised he’s letting me, but I’m glad. It means he trusts me, a little bit anyway. And that’s what I want. What I need if I’m going to be able to ask him about his past, about that day he died, so I can learn more about this connection between us.
I take the phone from him and read through the messages.
Foster: Where the fuck are you? I know your dumbass is at this party, so text me back. We need to talk.
Foster: Is Harlynn with you? If so, there’s going to be consequences, so be prepared to pay, you piece of shit. You know you shouldn’t be with her. She’s too good for you. You’re toxic. A waste of space.
Foster: I can see you driving away. You better not be with her.
A foul taste burns in my mouth.
Foster may have been controlling with me, but it was in a different way from how he tries to control Kingsley.
The way he is with Kingsley … it’s mentally abusive. With me … well, I’m not really sure what it is yet. It never felt like abuse when I was with Foster, but now that I’m breaking free of him, I’m not sure that it wasn’t. It was just more subtle than what he does to Kingsley. Like always making sure I doubted myself enough that I sought his opinion for everything. Like making me feel bad