Page 50 of A Silence So Divine

“If I had stayed—”

“You saw those men, Eden, so don’t take the blame for them. Lord knows they don’t deserve it.”

Her chin wobbles, but she doesn’t say anything further. The pads of my thumbs wipe away the moisture on her face, and I push her hair behind her ears. An angry knot juts out above her temple, a slice down her cheek. Hatred flares within me, and I have to grind my teeth to bite it back.

The lull of the truck’s motor is the only sound at all as we sit in our shared grief. The agony that reflects in her eyes makes me want to string Curran up by his feet. But I can’t do that, not yet. For now, I need to figure out how to get us out of this nightmare.

Once she retreats to her seat, I straighten my spine and run a hand through my hair. Her eyes are trained on my every move, but it’s almost like she’s gazing right through me.

Blowing out a sigh, I shift the truck into drive.

“Let’s go home.”

Twenty One

Creed

Excruciating anxiety courses through me. It’s been hours, and there’s still no sign of Cecil. I’ve wandered the house all day, bouncing between windows and peering out into fields. Not only have I been keeping an eye out for my brother, but also any unwelcome visitors. I’ve been white knuckling a butcher knife for the better part of the afternoon.

My optimism has shriveled all the while, leaving me with nothing but a headache and a knot in my stomach. Stars wink through the daylight now, and the clock says Cecil’s been gone for nearly ten hours. I gnaw at the inside of my cheek.

My eyes have begun to glaze over, my vision lost to the nightmare scenarios playing in my head. What if Eden drowned in the pond, and she’s out there, floating amongst the fish? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself.

Headlights flash in the distance. Unease grips me, and I inch my face closer to the glass.

It's him.

The knife clatters to the ground, forgotten. I shoot outside, the gravel biting into the pads of my socked feet. The truck is maybea hundred yards from where I stand, but I don’t stop running. I can’t get to it fast enough. It’s only when the vehicle is forced to skid to a stop in front of me that I’m able to make outtwopeople inside.

Heading straight for the passenger side, I wrench the door open. Without a moment of hesitation, I’m pulling Eden from the seat and holding her to my body. Her feet dangle beneath her, and her arms link around my neck a little too tightly. I bury my face in her matted hair, kissing her face anywhere I can.

A third hand on my back has me placing Eden on her feet. I only get a glimpse of her face before I’m turning to Cecil, but what I do see makes my gut churn.

She looks horrible. Battered. Vacant.

“Take her inside,”he says.“We need to talk.”

With a nod, I loop my arm around Eden’s waist and walk her to the house. Our eyes meet briefly but she quickly turns away. I’m not sure how it’s possible, but I think things have gotten worse.

Cecil and I sit across from one another at the kitchen island. My leg bounces incessantly, rattling the salt and pepper shakers on the table. My brother reaches out and separates the two glass bottles so they’re no longer touching. His expression is neutral, but I can tell by the tension in his shoulders that he’s dreading this discussion.

My heart has been racing all day, my fingers twitching with nerves. Although Eden is back home, unease fills the air.

She’s in her room. I was able to get her to eat half of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but I damn near had to force her. She would crane her neck away from me every time I tried to coaxher into another bite. After a dollop of jelly fell into her hair during the struggle, I relented and left her alone.

Should we have nailed her windows shut?

I’m itching to check on her, so I decide to broach the subject myself.

“Well? Where was she?”

Cecil’s face screws up, and a few choice words form on his lips. Carding his fingers through his hair, he averts his gaze from me. Then,

“I have to start from the beginning.”

My eyes narrow, but I incline my head toward him in invitation.

“When we left Dad, I found whatever jobs I could to support us. It was difficult, because we were always moving around. I would clean people’s toilets, shovel snow, pick pockets. Anything to get us by. I was even selling—”