Dark and Shallow Lies(79)

It hurts me to look at him. But he’s not dead. Yet.

“I need you to come with me in the morning,” I say. “On the boat. If we find Evie.” I swallow hard. “Even if we don’t –”

Hart shakes his head. “We’ve been over that.”

“You have to get out of here, Hart. For good.”

“There isn’t any good in me,” he mutters.

“That’s not true. Just come with me,” I plead. “I’ll help you. We can –”

“Look,” he says, “I’m glad you stayed, Greycie.” Something catches in his throat, and he washes it down with a swig of beer. “I’m grateful to have you here. With me. Tonight.” He tightens up his jaw. Gives his head another shake. “But my mind’s made up.”

“Hart –”

“Drop it,” he snarls. There’s a warning in his voice. But I don’t listen. Not this time.

“All you have to do is get on the damn boat.”

He laughs that sad half laugh, and it makes my heart ache for the other version. That familiar throaty chuckle that crinkles his eyes up at the edges.

“I can’t do that. That’s why I’m in this mess to begin with. I don’t belong out there. With all those people.”

“What happened to you?” I ask him, and he stares at me. But I’ve finally reached my breaking point with him. “You think it’ll be hard living out there, so you’d rather die here? Is that it? Fuck all of us who love you.” I take a deep breath. Try to hold myself together. “All of us who need you.”

“You don’t get it,” he says.

“I do get it. Nobody else matters. You don’t care about anybody but yourself.” My voice is rising like floodwater. “You’re a coward, Hart. That’s all it is. Jesus! When did you get to be so pathetic?” I scramble to my feet, shaking with rage and grief. “You’re spineless! Elora would be so ashamed of you!”

Hart lunges in my direction, but I shrink back, out of the way. He grabs his beer bottle and throws it against the wall behind me. The shattering glass gets my full attention, and I freeze.

“You think I want it this way?” he roars. He’s boring holes through me with his eyes, and his breath comes in furious, ragged puffs. “You don’t know shit, Greycie!” He wipes his mouth and runs a hand through his hair. Then he drops his voice to a low growl. Clenches his fists at his sides. “You don’t know half of what I’ve seen. The things I’ve felt. Things that would rip your guts out and send you huntin’ a shotgun to put in your mouth. Things that live inside me every fucking minute of every miserable day.” His words are Category 5. I struggle to stay on my feet. “You don’t know me, Grey. You never have.” He shakes his head. “Nobody does.”

“I know that if you don’t get on that boat, Hart, I’m not going to, either.” My whole body is trembling. “And then we’ll both die here. And it’ll be your fault. You want that on you?”

He snarls and takes a step toward me. I scurry backward, but he keeps on coming. He backs me up clear across the room, until I’m pinned against the wall.

“You’re leaving in the mornin’, Greycie. I made a promise to Miss Roselyn. And I owe it to Elora. She wanted you safe. Out of here. Away from this place.” He leans down until we’re nose to nose. “And if I have to carry your ass on to that boat, kicking and screaming, and hand you over to the captain, I will. Hell, I’ll knock you unconscious if I have to. So don’t you fuckin’ test me.”

“Hart –” I can’t stand this. I reach out to lay a hand on his chest, but he pulls away and glares at me.

“I’m heading back out to look for Evie.” He practically spits the words at me. “You stay here. In case she comes back.” He grabs his rifle and a flashlight. “And keep the doors locked. Because your goddamn boyfriend is still out there somewhere.”

He jerks open the front door and slams it behind him. The whole house shakes with his anger.

And then I’m all alone.

My ears ring with deafening silence.

And then the clanking of wind chimes.





That flash of Elora hits me as soon as Hart is gone. I grit my teeth against the terror of that moment. My twin flame fighting the storm to stay on her feet.

I get up and lock the door, then I sit and stare at the empty room. The AC is still rattling in the window, but it feels like there’s no air left in the sealed-up house. From the kitchen, I hear the weather announcer giving the latest update.

Twenty-four hours till landfall.

Hurricane Elizabeth is still moving north, targeting the Louisiana coast. A weather buoy out in the gulf is already reporting fifty-foot waves.

Fear gnaws at me with sharp teeth.

What if the supply boat can’t make it in?

I tell myself it’s already safe in one of the lower river passes, anchored down and ready to head on up this way at first light. But there’s no way to know that for sure.

I’m feel myself spiraling and I don’t know what else to do, so I dig The Tempest out of my backpack and read until midnight. But when the final act ends with everyone safe and forgiven, I throw the book across the room and scream at the walls.