Page 3 of Drowning in Darkness

“How many books did you accumulate?” my brother grumbles as he tapes up the sixth box stuffed full of literary escapism. We’re both bookworms, so I don’t know why he’s acting surprised.

“These are my favorites. The rest I’ve left with the institute.”

Parting with the stories that expanded my tiny, sheltered world was difficult. But knowing I’m leaving them for others who are in a similar place helps.

“I’m more concerned with the nail polish collection,” Eleanor, his fiancée, mumbles as she zips up the large vanity case and jiggles it so the glass bottles clink together.

“An expression of mood,” I explain. “When I was struggling, it was a way of communicating.”

She tilts her head. “Interesting and clever.”

“Thank you.”

She views the world in a way I’ve never experienced before. She sees beneath the things others find boring, and it makes me feel vulnerable but understood. She is the perfect sister-in-law. Speaking of which...

“When are you getting married?” I demand. “I need to be a bridesmaid before my wrinkles set in.”

Hunter snorts. “Your skin is flawless. However, it’s not me who’s the holdout.”

Eleanor rolls her eyes. “There’s no rush for a piece of paper to tell me what we both know.”

It’s a touchy subject for her. The cult she grew up in tainted her view of marriage. That he got an engagement ring on her finger is a miracle.

I exchange a glance with my sibling, whose gaze softens as he observes the woman who has captured his affection. I would give anything for a man to look at me that way. Like I hung the moon and the stars in his sky, and there is nothing he wouldn’t do to protect me. I have the protection, arguably too much of it, but love that has you in a chokehold? The kind that makes my breath hitch every time I look at them? That right there is the kind of love people ruin themselves chasing.

Beyond my brother, I’ve only ever had one man who has come close to displaying that kind of emotion. I glance at Eleanor, the woman who shares her DNA with that very man. Her brother is an enigma, the kind of man who walks into a room and makes everyone else subtly rearrange themselves around him. I’ve explored this in therapy, and apparently, it’s not uncommon to form attachments in your head to someone who saves your life. In my story, he’s a superhero. But every time I enquire about him, Hunter and Eleanor divert the conversation.

“I still think this is too soon,” Hunter mutters while flicking open a drawer and finding it empty for the first time in years. He scowls as if he can’t comprehend the space where my possessions existed for much of my adult life. But can’t he see that my soul is dying in here?

He turns to face me and opens his mouth to no doubt list the thousand reasons my release makes little sense. I pat his cheek and give him a smile. “You gave me everything, Hunter. The space to heal, to feel safe in this world. But we are both aware that’s a false narrative.”

He folds his arms and scowls down at me. Stupid height. Why did he steal all the tall person genes? Couldn’t he have left a few for me? “It’s not false if you remain here.”

I sigh and prepare to point something out that I know is going to hurt, but it’s also not his fault.

Eleanor zips up my suitcase with a huff before leveling her glare on him. “Wrong,” she says, cutting through all the bullshit in a way that makes me love her more every time she does that. He truly has met his perfect match.

His jaw tics as the memory crashes between us. This very institute. The ship. The rope biting into my throat hard enough to leave bruises I still trace in the dark sometimes.

Hunter sees survival as something fragile. Temporary. Like if he loosens his grip for even a second, the world will sink its teeth back into me.

“Fine, then I insist you come live with us.”

I snort. “And swap one gilded cage for another?”

“You’ve been free to leave for many, many months,” Chief Nurse Hannah declares, gliding into the suite I’ve called home for far too long.

“See? Even the professionals say I’m ready.”

Eleanor squeezes Hunter’s arm, and he tears his gaze from mine to hers. “You gave her a haven, and now she’s strong and ready to fly. There is no better compliment.”

He groans low in his chest, signaling that I’ve won. “Tell me the plan again,” he demands.

Hannah winks at me from behind Hunter as she shoves a brown paper bag full of the medications I need for the next month into my toiletry case.

“Honor has sent a car and driver,” I start.

“No,” a familiar feminine voice declares as a blonde bombshell swans into my suite with an infectious grin. “I’m your driver.”