Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Ambrose let out a shuddery breath beside me. I turned my head to look at him as he cleared his throat.
“Thank you,” he rasped. “If you—my parents would really love to see those, if you’d be willing to show them.”
“That’s up to Charlie,” I replied. “But I’m sure he’d be glad to. I have more, you know. That wasn’t the last one.”
“I think, uh, maybe later.”
“Okay,” I whispered, hitting the power button. I set the camera next to me on the bed.
The room was silent for a long time. Eventually, Ambrose’s hand found mine in the dark. When he threaded his fingers through mine, it didn’t even occur to me to pull away.
“I’m glad he had that,” he said softly. “Fuck, I’m really glad he had that.”
Eventually, his breathing grew slow and steady as he fell asleep, but I was wide awake for a long time. I’d been very aware from the beginning how the loss of Zeke had affected Charlie, and even though I couldn’t understand it fully, I’d tried my best to be sensitive to the fact that his life had been devastated.
But it was almost embarrassing to admit, even silently to myself, that I hadn’t really considered how Zeke’s death had affected his brothers. The same brothers who’d put their asses on the line to search for and protect a man they’d never met just because their brother had loved him. I’d been suspicious and catty and sarcastic, and they must’ve hated me.
Maybe not Ambrose. I was Ambrose’s winning lottery ticket. But the other brothers, Danny and that asshole, Chance. They’d probably wanted to throttle me. They’d still been dealing with the loss of their baby brother when they’d decided to search for us, somehow found us when we were deliberately playing needle-in-a-haystack, and I’d refused to tell them where Charlie was and then tried to escape by climbing out a bathroom window.
I winced.
“Sleep, baby,” Ambrose ordered, rolling to his side. His arm wrapped around my middle, and his breath feathered across my neck. “Whatever you’re thinking about can wait until morning.”
I bristled at the order, but closed my eyes anyway. He was right. I could continue berating myself for being a colossal pain in the ass once the sun was up.
Chapter 4
Ambrose
“I’m fucking exhausted, Lucy,” Charlie snapped from the back seat.
“You’re not exhausted. You need to sit up and open your eyes and eat something. You’ve slept all day. You’re depressed.”
“So what if I am?” Charlie exploded, rising from the seat. “You have no idea what this is like. None. Leave me the fuck alone.”
“Sorry, can’t,” Lucy shot back. She was twisted in the seat, glaring at her brother. “Since, you know, I love you.”
When I glanced in the rearview mirror, Charlie was staring at his sister, expressionless.
“You think you’re the only one who lost Zeke?” Lucy continued.
I reached out to put my hand on her leg in warning.
“I lost him too. Ambrose is his brother. Look at us, we’re awake. We’re talking. We’re paying attention to our surroundings.”
“It’s not the same, baby,” I told her quietly as Charlie continued to stare at her silently. “Not nearly the same.”
“I’m not saying it’s the same,” she snapped. “And what’s with baby? We’re not at that point. You can call me Lucy.”
“I’m not the one you’re mad at,” I reminded her.
“Well, I am now, since you’re so interested in adding your opinion.”
I opened my mouth and closed it again as she twisted back around and crossed her arms over her chest. I wanted to tell her that there was no way to fully describe the loss of a mate. It went so far beyond normal grief. There wasn’t even a word for it. I’d heard it referred to as soul crushing in the most literal terms. It was why, in Vampire culture, suicide after the loss of a mate was commonplace and even widely accepted.
Her brother was immortal and alone. No matter how much she loved him, he was alone. Neither of us could comprehend the weight of that truth. Only Charlie could.
So, if he preferred to sleep twenty hours a day, who were we to judge?
“At least eat something,” Lucy ordered. “You’re skin and bones.”
The car was quiet as we drove toward the setting sun, but Charlie didn’t lie back down. He sat there silently until we found a drive-thru for dinner, didn’t bother to give his order because Lucy already knew what it was, and ate his food without a word. I wasn’t sure about Lucy, but I would’ve preferred him asleep. The grief that filled the car when he was awake was damn near stifling.
Gone was the man who’d smiled and laughed as I told him stories the night before, and in his place was a shell of a human. If I’d stopped the car and let him out on the side of the road, I was pretty sure he would’ve just laid down beside it and never gotten up again.