All the Little Lights(77)

Duke smoothed his tie and then backed away, turning for the stairway. He climbed slowly, reaching the top and turning right toward his room down the hall. When I heard his door slam shut, I hurried upstairs and into my room, then pushed my bed against the door and sat on the mattress for extra weight.

I covered my mouth, both mortified and afraid. I’d never spoken to Duke that way, and I wasn’t sure what would happen now. He was the most intimidating of the guests, and his failure to frighten me into submission meant uncertainty. I worried someone new and more frightening would come to keep me in line.

The dresser scraped against the floor as I pushed it against my door. Just as I positioned myself to move the bed, a strange noise gave me pause.

Plink, plink.

I froze.

Plink.

The sound was coming from my bedroom window.

I walked over, noticing Elliott in the perfect circle cast by one of the remaining streetlamps. I raised my window, smiling down at him.

“You okay?” he called.

I nodded, wiping my face. “I’m sorry. I hate that you saw that.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can help you down if you want. You don’t have to stay there.”

“I’m in my room. The door’s locked. I’m safe.”

“Catherine.”

“You know I can’t,” I said.

“I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“It’s not bad. I’m fine.”

“I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t right. I’m worried about you.”

“You have to trust me,” I said.

Elliott dropped the rocks in his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m terrified I’m going to hear that something’s happened to you. I’m afraid of what you said, about not being able to see me anymore. What kind of choice is that?”

“A real one.” I looked behind me. “You should go.”

“I can’t,” he said.

I felt the tears come again. Life at the Juniper was getting worse. Something dark was building inside, and I didn’t want Elliott to get caught in it. Him being unable to leave me was going to get him hurt—or worse.

“Please don’t,” I said. “I can handle this.”

“I should call someone. At least let me talk to Aunt Leigh.”

“You promised,” I said.

“That’s not fair. You shouldn’t have asked me to promise something like that.”

“But I did. And you did . . . and you’re breaking it.”

“Catherine,” he begged. “Let me come up. I can’t leave after seeing what I saw.”

When I didn’t protest, he took a running start, climbing up the side of the house and into my window. He stood with his hands on his hips until he caught his breath.

I looked back at my door. “You shouldn’t be here!” I hissed. It was the first time someone other than a guest, Tess, or Mama had been inside since Dad was taken away in the ambulance.

He stood, towering over me, then looked around. “Lightning didn’t strike. I’ll be quiet.” He turned to close my window and then took a few steps. “Has this changed at all since you were a little girl?”

I shook my head, trying not to panic. Mama would be furious if she knew. She was more protective of the Juniper than she was of me.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered.

“But I am, and unless you kick me out, I’m staying.”

“Your aunt will freak out. She might say something to Mama.”

“I’m eighteen.” He looked past me and frowned. “Why is your dresser against your door?”

I peered up at him.

“Catherine . . .” His eyes roamed over me, desperate to protect me from whatever made me so afraid that my furniture was barricading the door.

“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you can’t stay. I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. I don’t want your pity. And you have to promise not to tell. Not your aunt, not anyone at the school. No one.”

“It’s not pity, Catherine, I’m worried.”

“Promise.”

“I won’t tell anyone.”

“Duke never comes in here, but sometimes Mama does, or Willow, or Poppy, or my cousin Imogen. Mama won’t let me drill holes in the wall for a lock, so I use the bed to keep them out.”

Elliott frowned. “That’s not okay.”

“They just come in to talk. They wake me up in the middle of the night sometimes. It’s unsettling. I fall asleep better with my bed against the door.” After a beat, I nudged him toward the window. “Okay, I told you. Now go to the party.”

“Catherine, I’m not going to that stupid party. I’m staying here and keeping you safe.”

“You can’t be with me all the time. Besides, I’ve handled this for over two years. Just because you know doesn’t mean anything has changed. I don’t want both of us missing things because of this place, now go.”

“Catherine . . .”

“Go, Elliott. Go, or I can’t do this with you. I can’t carry around that guilt, too.”

Elliott’s face fell, and he turned toward the window and crawled out, closing the window behind him. He pressed his fist against the glass, holding up his I love you sign. I did the same.