Tragic Beauty (Beauty & The Darkness #1)(56)

When I’m certain I’ve got it all, I walk down the hall and stand next to the open door and wait. For some reason, when I see him there at his desk, working quietly, his name comes to mind. Shayne. I haven’t thought it or spoken it in so long. In the room, I always just see the beast, but out here, now, I see the man, Shayne. I decide then I’ll try to use his name more, at least in my mind, to help make him more human to me. Another way I’ll survive.

Shayne sees me now. “Bring it here,” he says.

I walk over the cowhide rug I’ve been on before, and hand him the list. He looks over it while I stand there, eyes down, waiting for him to let me go.

“Alright,” he says finally, an odd tinge in his voice. I wonder if he wasn’t expecting me to go all out. I wonder if he was thinking frozen pizza and corn dogs too.

When I leave, I feel his eyes watch me go, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

Out by the living room I stop and look around. I can actually choose what I want to do, for now, anyway. And my body had the night off, so I’m able to move. My knees still hurt, but not too bad. It’s the pain on the inside that’s strong, especially with that strange feeling gnawing at me so hard. It makes me feel the pull of the dark corner, that place where I curl up so tight. I even walk to the door with the deadbolt and stand there, feeling that tug to something I know. I understand now, those mistreated dogs that crave their crates, even when they get a new home and a big yard to run around in. I hate thinking that’s how I am now. And so I make myself keep walking, down the hall and into the glass room, where so many worlds wait.

The sun shines in, the light strange until I notice the glass is tinted—to protect the books, I imagine, and maybe to help keep the heat out on those warm days. The fountain’s running, the roses are blooming. I run my fingertips over a rose petal. A memory of another rose appears. A rose that ran slowly back and forth along my lips. A rose I woke to.

Another time.

Another place.

It hurts to linger there, so I walk to a shelf and gaze at the titles. So many books. So many books it would take a lifetime to read them all. I wonder if he’s read any of them. I don’t know why I wonder that.

A beige spine with gold lettering catches my eye. A book I love so much. A book I left lying on a coffee table in a house I used to own.

I take it in my hands and open the cover. Jane Eyre. Fate’s playing with me again. Thousands of books in here, and this is the one I come across. A story of a young woman and a beast of a man. I go to put it back, knowing full well our stories won’t end the same, but then I stop. She survived her beast, and I’ll survive mine.

I curl up tight on the leather sofa and turn to page one.

It’s later in the day, when I’m far gone in Thornfield Hall, that I hear the beast call my name.

“Ava!”

I set the book down and scurry through the hall and hear sounds coming from the kitchen. When I turn the corner, I stagger back. I was expecting Shayne, but that’s not who I see. It’s Red, and he’s placing grocery bags on the counter. I’m about to tear out of there, when he turns and sees me. I freeze, like a wild animal caught in headlights. I can’t seem to move my feet. I just stand there while he stares at me, blinking those brown eyes of his. Shock starts to spread across his boyish face, followed by something else. Something that looks like pity. I dash around the corner and hide, not liking that look. Not liking it one bit.

“What are you doing?” Shayne asks, standing at the door to his office, his eyes dark. The kind of dark that has me trembling. “Go on. You got groceries to put away.”

I want to shake my head. Shake my head so bad, but I walk slowly into the kitchen. Red’s placing a few more bags on the counter, and I know he’s stealing glances at me, but I don’t look at him. Just start on the first bag. That’s when Red leaves, only to come back with more. He sets the bags on the counter, one of them filled with a six pack of beer and a bottle of Jim Beam that I know I didn’t put on the list. Shayne must’ve done that.

I feel Red’s eyes on me again.

“Ava?” he whispers. “You alright?”

I nod quickly and keep at what I’m doing.

“She’s great,” Shayne says, walking in.

He grabs a bottle of beer, twists a cap off and leans against one of the counters. By the way I can feel his black eyes roaming while he takes a swig, I know he’s feeling a need to keep watch on us.

“What are you making tonight, Ava?” he asks, my skin prickling at the tone of his voice. I know this voice. It’s his cruel, playful voice. I don’t know what brought it on, but I know to be careful when he’s like this. So careful. And now there’s drink involved. Never a good thing when there’s drink. Have to be extra careful.

I swallow hard and push the words out. “Roast chicken and rosemary potatoes.”

“Alright, sounds good! Hey, Red, why don’t you come up for dinner tonight? It’s Saturday, after all. Let’s have some fun. It’s been a while since we done that. What do you say?”

My stomach drops, like I’ve swallowed an anchor. I don’t want to cook anymore. I don’t want anything but my dark little corner. So stupid, I am. So stupid.

I hear Red shuffling his feet. “Uh, sorry, Shayne I, uh…I can’t. I got—”