Page 61 of His to Keep
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When we wakethe next morning, Father Aaron’s not there. In the place where he slept between us are two thick envelopes. One with Maisie’s name, and the other with mine.
She opens hers first with trembling fingers, and the moment she starts reading, tears well in her eyes. A few seconds later, she slaps her hand over her mouth. “No. No. No.”
“What is it?” I ask, my own envelope weighing a ton on my lap.
“It’s a letter from my dad. It’s like he thinks I’m in some boarding school or something. My boyfriend—he was deployed to Afghanistan. His base was targeted, and he’s missing.” She sobs a bit louder. “He wasn’t supposed to go, Ava.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, watching her face get paler.
“I’m going to be sick.” Gagging, she gets off the bed and runs into the bathroom.
Swallowing thickly, I tear my own envelope open. My hands tremble as I pull out a piece of paper with handwriting I recognize.
Dearest Ava,it reads.I hope you’re doing well at your new accommodation. Our Lord, Father Aaron, has assured me that you are settling in well. When we spoke about St. Bridget’s housing for young women, I wasn’t sure if you would understand my decision to send you there. You see, Ava, I’m dying. Like your dearest grandfather, I too have caught the blackness that rotted him. A cancerous brain tumor, like my father, had. One too aggressive to treat. My time has come. God has given me a long life, and I am finally ready to accept his way. Father Aaron came to me about his premonition of you going down the devil’s path after my death. I knew sending you back to your parents in the city would be detrimental to your wellbeing. That’s when Father Aaron suggested St. Bridget’s, and I trust our Lord has explained that you are meant to be so much more in this world. I’m sorry I never got to say goodbye. Father Aaron noted that you would be upset. It was your grandfather’s dying wish that our house is left to you after we both die. I don’t have long left, so when you return to Little Willow, it will be waiting for you.
Gran.
Chapter Thirty-Two
With tears flowing out of my eyes, I run out of the room. Leaving Maisie and the letter of betrayal behind, I go to the other side of the house, back to Callum’s bedroom in hopes that he’s there.
Our Lord, Father Aaron.
Oh, Gran. What did you do?
Throwing the door open, disappointment smothers me that the room is empty, which means Callum must still be in the horror room being punished. But just as I’m about to turn to go there, a noise from the bathroom makes me stop.
“Callum?” There’s no answer. “Are you here?”
I edge forward. The door’s ajar, and I apprehensively push it open. And there’s Callum. He’s by the sink, razor blade in hand that he’s slicing into his skin.
“Callum, no!” He doesn’t even turn in my direction when I rush over to him and grab his hand. “What are you doing?”
“Let go,” he says coldly. Looking up at his face, his cheek is red and grazed, and his right eye is already blackening around the swelling. “I said, let go!”
He pushes me so hard that my spine jams into the sink. Gasping with the pain, I stare at him in shock, my heart fiercely pounding. He looks like stone, eyes like a storm. He’s not even looking at me as he throws the blade to the floor and stares down at the many cuts he’s left on his skin.
“Callum?”
“Go away, Ava.”
My heart stops. “What?”
“Go away.” His eyes lift to mine, and it’s as if I’ve never seen him before. This expression belongs to a stranger. What does he mean, go away? Does he not know what I’ve been through?
“Why?”
His jaw pulses as he glares at me. “Because I don’t want you here.”
My bottom lip wobbles, and I step back from him. “Why are you like this?”
He stares at me still, but it’s like he’s notlookingat me. “Go back to your room and don’t come here again.”My room.My new room—his father’s. That means he knows what happened. “I don’t want to see you in here again.” Putting my hand over my mouth, I heave a sob. He looks disgusted, even though it wasn’t my fault what happened. “Stop crying and get out.”
Growling out, I slam my hands into his chest and push him. “You horrible jerk! You have no idea what I’ve been through.”
My sobs come out harder, uncontrollable. I’m falling apart. But no. He can’t do this. Seeing red, I punch his chest again. He doesn’t move. He’s like an ice statue of no remorse or guilt. “Ava—”