Unspoken (Shadow Falls: After Dark #3)(101)

“Why didn’t you tell me? Why haven’t you called me, or texted me? Why didn’t you text me the other day when you went to see Kirk?”

When he didn’t say anything, she just stared at him.

“I have to go,” he said. “Burnett’s waiting,”

“What the hell are you not telling me, Chase?”

He leaned down and kissed her. “That I love you.”

He flew away.

Della stood there in a world of hurt. Was it possible to love someone and not trust them?

*

Chase landed on the office porch. He heard Burnett stirring in Holiday’s office. Chase raked a hand through his hair. Looking over his shoulder, he checked to make sure Della hadn’t followed him.

Then he glanced back at the office door. Right or wrong, he had to do this.

He walked in and heard the chair in Holiday’s office shift as if protesting the person’s weight.

“In here,” Burnett said, in his normal pissed-off tone.

Chase walked in. The man sat there, his shoulders straight, arms crossed, and looked up at Chase with the same expression his tone carried.

“You should have called me. This whole thing could have been bad.”

“Yeah. I probably should have.”

Chase sat down. The chair groaned in protest. And so did Chase’s heart. Eddie had saved him. Taught him. Protected him.

He looked at Burnett.

“Something wrong?”

Chase felt a knot tighten in his throat.

“I need some help,” Chase said.

“With?” Burnett unfolded his arms, and leaned forward, now more curious than angry.

“I’ve found myself in a very bad position.” Chase ran a hand over his face.

“What position is that?”

Chase looked away, unsure how to start. His gaze landed on a picture of Holiday holding Hannah.

He sat up. “What … what would you do if someone killed Holiday?”





Chapter Forty-two

Della dreamed it. She was Bao Yu. So she woke up and refused to sleep. Then she saw it when she wasn’t asleep.

She saw the knife being yanked from her chest. The blood dripping from the blade. Her father’s face staring down at her. She struggled to take her very last breath of air.

Then she died. Or her aunt died. Over and over again.

And each time she went through it, right before she lost her life, Della felt her aunt mourn and grieve for something different.

People she would miss. Love she’d never be able to give. A child she had given up and would never be able to say “I love you” to. The chance to make all of the things she’d done wrong, right.

Della went to school, hoping it would stop. She walked out of science when it didn’t.

Exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally, she headed to the office. On that walk, one footstep after another, all Della could hear were Burnett’s words. He said he’d been attacked by a monster. Did her father really suspect she was vampire?

Holiday looked up when Della walked in, then gasped.

She must have felt what Della was feeling.

“I can’t do it anymore. I just can’t.”

Holiday ran to her and wrapped her in her arms. “I got you. I got you.”

Della leaned against her and sobbed. She didn’t care if she looked weak. Didn’t care if she was getting tears and whatever else on Holiday’s pretty green sweater. She simply didn’t care.

Or was it that she cared too much?

She cared about Bao Yu. She cared about her dad. She cared … that he considered her a monster. She needed to fix this. All of it. But how?

“It’s okay.” Holiday brushed her hand over Della’s back.

Some of the pain left with the touch, but not nearly enough. Especially when she saw it again. The vision hit. She was her aunt, and the knife was being pulled out of her own chest.

Della pulled out of Holiday’s arms and pushed her palms deep into her eye sockets, wishing it would go away. “I’ve seen it at least fifty times today. I’m seeing it now. What does she want from me? Does she want me to say he’s guilty? I can’t. He never even spanked us. He wouldn’t do that. And it doesn’t make sense. Why would he have killed her? When someone else had gone there to do it? What does she want?”

“I don’t know.” Holiday moved in and stroked Della’s back.

Della opened her eyes. “Is she punishing me because I still love my dad?”

“No. She’s not punishing you,” Holiday said. “She wants to understand too, and she thinks you can help her.”

“But how? What can I do?” And right then Della had her answer. It scared the crap out of her, but it was the right thing. It was going to happen sooner or later.

“I know what I can do,” Della said. “Talk to my dad. He has to know he didn’t do this. If she hears him say it, she’ll believe it.”

Holiday frowned. “Okay … I see why you think that would work, but…” She paused. “How are you going to explain any of this without telling him—”

“Telling him the truth?” Della finished for her. “Maybe it’s time I tell him.”

Holiday shook her head. “I’m not sure, with the trial and an angry ghost, that this is the time for that kind of talk.”