Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147891 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 739(@200wpm)___ 592(@250wpm)___ 493(@300wpm)
“It’s okay,” I whisper.
“It’s not okay. I failed her,” he says, voice thick. He picks his head up, and his eyes are red and glistening. “I told her I’d always look after her, and I failed her.”
There’s a burn in my chest, and at the sight of his bloodshot eyes, my vision becomes blurrier. What do I say to him when it comes to this? Loss. First his mother, and now Della. What do I say to a man who continually blames himself for these losses?
There isn’t much I can say because I feel all that pain balled into a tight knot in the center of his chest. This knot won’t go away, won’t fade. It only lingers, taking up unwanted space. And the truth is, no words will ever erase that sort of pain. No matter how many words people say or how much they try to encourage you, nothing will resolve the agony until you heal. Trying to ignore the grief is like putting a tiny Band-Aid over a gash. It’s useless.
So, I don’t speak—not because I don’t have anything to say, but because after all we’ve been through, with the sight of his dead mother being wickedly impersonated, and now the slap back to reality about Della, it’s a lot to take in, and he needs to pour it out. My Caz is in so much pain, but I’m here. I’ll always be here.
I push higher onto my knees and lace my arms around his neck. I bring his face to my chest, and his quiet sobs continue, tears dampening my shirt, body shuddering as he sucks in breaths. I stroke his hair, rub his back, rest my cheek on top of his damp head. I allow him to dwell in his sadness, his vulnerability, his hurt.
After several minutes, the tears stop, but he stays glued to my chest, breathing evenly, the knot in his chest slowly loosening. I pull away, placing a kiss on the apple of his cheek as I stand. “I’ll let you have a moment to yourself.”
Before I can move away, he catches my hand, keeping me close. Raising his chin, his damp blue eyes find mine. Don’t leave.
I blink my tears away and nod. ’Kay.
Chapter 62
WILLOW
Della’s sendoff is nothing short of heart wrenching. I’d felt Caz’s pain in his office, and it still lingers. The ache within him is intense as he stands in front of the shore, watching Rowan and Killian carry torches toward a black plank. The sky was a hazy gray but has now shifted to a muted dark blue. Thunder rumbles above, the clouds rolling by quickly, as if they sense the heartache and would rather be any place but here.
On the plank is a body wrapped head to toe in silk. Rowan and Killian lower the flames of their torches, placing them on the loose edges of silk to spark it.
Slowly, the body is lit in bright flames, sending a wave of fiery heat rippling toward the head. Juniper takes the torch from Killian so that he can push the plank deeper into the ocean. The wave carries the plank away, and we watch it rock gently, drifting toward the endless sky. There’s nothing beyond these black waters that I can see, so there’s no telling where Della’s body will end up. Perhaps she’ll float forever, rocking in peace, almost like a baby being soothed. The idea of that is comforting, actually. Much more comforting than being buried six feet under.
Caz lowers his head as if he can’t watch a moment longer then turns away, marching up the stairs that lead to the castle grounds.
I watch him go, aiming to hear his thoughts, but nothing comes. He’s blocked me out. This time, he wants to be alone.
When we return to the castle, Maeve and Juniper pull out a simple dinner they’d cooked while preparing for Della’s sendoff, and I’m glad to see it’s things that are familiar. Chicken, green vegetables that remind me of green beans but skinnier, and wild rice. We eat quietly at the twelve-top table, our eyes wandering to Caz’s empty chair. I can’t find it in me to eat anything because I’m worried about him. I checked his room, and he wasn’t there. He’s not in his office either.
“Just give him time.” Maeve steals my attention by patting my hand. “He’ll come around. He always does.”
“He’s one of those people who needs an ample amount of time alone in order to recharge. But when he needs us or wants to be with us, he pops up like a wart,” Juniper teases, but her wittiness isn’t as sharp as usual.
“Yeah. It’s best I give him space right now,” I murmur, running the prongs of my fork over the bed rice.
“Sure. Don’t leave him be for too long, though.” Juniper’s eyes bounce around the table, at her brothers and then her mother. “Too long, and his mind ventures to dangerous territory.”