Page 90 of Veil of Silence

“I’ll ice my wrist and check it again in the morning. If the swelling gets worse or I have trouble breathing, I’ll go.”

Dad continued staring at her as if uncertain.

“I promise,” Nora assured him.

He muttered something she couldn’t make out before heading toward the kitchen for ice.

Christian remained a few feet away. “Can you stand?”

“I think so.”

He held out his hand.

Nora looked at it.

For one terrible moment, she couldn’t make herself reach for him.

Christian’s fingers slowly curled toward his palm, and he started to lower his arm.

Nora forced herself to take his hand.

He pulled carefully while she pushed up with her legs. Pain tightened around her ribs, but she made it to her feet.

Christian kept hold of her until she was steady. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I will be.”

His gaze searched hers. He’d noticed her hesitation. They both knew it, even if neither of them acknowledged it.

She gently released his hand.

Christian stood in front of her, looking younger than seventeen and far less certain than he had a moment ago.

She told herself the hurt in his eyes meant he hadn’t pushed her.

Nora wished she believed that.

Chapter

Thirty-Five

Nora woke Sunday morning feeling as if someone had beaten her with a baseball bat.

Her ribs hurt every time she moved, and her wrist had swollen enough that she couldn’t close her fingers completely. She’d wrapped it with an elastic bandage, taken two ibuprofen, and convinced herself that she’d been right about not needing the emergency room.

A gray morning light filled the kitchen. It was barely seven, and the house remained quiet. Dad was asleep on the couch, while Mom and Christian were still upstairs.

In a few hours, they would go to church. Afterward, the search teams would return to the woods and pick up their efforts from yesterday.

But Preston had already spent another night missing.

Nora poured herself a cup of coffee and stared through the window. She tried not to imagine where Preston might be right now. Maybe today would be different. Maybe someone would finally find the clue that brought Preston home. She prayed that was the case.

Movement in the backyard caught her attention.

A figure in a dark sweatshirt stood beside the burn barrel, partially obscured by the lingering morning haze. As he shifted, Nora realized it was . . . Christian. He wasn’t upstairs sleeping after all. But why was he outside?

She stood and crept closer to the window. What was he doing?