“Why does anyone still live in this town?” I ask as I sweep up the mess in the kitchen. “It’s just chaos here, all the time.”
“When your roots run deep, it’s hard to walk away.” He rights a chair in the living room and puts the cracked lamp back on the end table.
“I guess I just don’t get it,” I say, shaking my head. “It’s just not like that where I come from.”
“Like two different worlds,” Ian says quietly.
That’s for damn sure.
IT TAKES A LONG TIME for Ian to settle down enough to go to bed. He rushes into the house about every ten minutes to check on Elle. He takes his medic bag every single time. But she’s going to be okay and everything is quiet.
“You should get some sleep,” I tell him when it gets close to midnight.
“Yeah,” he says in a scoff. “Someone attacked my family and I’m going to sleep tonight.”
A yawn starts to take over and I stretch my arms over my head. “Either you try or I’m going to drug you. I’m exhausted, but you’re keeping me all keyed up.”
“Look, you don’t have to stay up with me,” he says, looking out the window again. “I’ll be fine. Just go in the bedroom, shut the door, and pretend I’m not out here.”
I take a step toward him and place a hand on his forearm. “Ian, everything’s okay now. They’re long gone, they got what they wanted. So calm down.”
His eyes flicker to mine and they burn with intensity. Relaxing is something Ian never does. He’s a born fighter with plenty of fuel to keep him burning hot for a long time. But there is exhaustion in his eyes.
“Okay,” he says quietly.
So, as we’ve been doing for the past seven days, we quietly get ready for bed. We both stand at the sink brushing our teeth, and I can feel the tension and anxious anger rolling off of Ian in waves. I want to reach over and smooth out all of his angry wrinkles. I want to pull him into my arms for a minute and force him to relax. But I just keep stealing glances at him in the mirror.
We change into sleeping clothes. And at 12:31, we say goodnight.
My dreams are scattered and many. At one point my mom and I are taking a walk through the park by our old house. But then something jumps out of the shadows and she’s gone. And then there is a red queen with a giant bear beside her, making demands of me that I can’t understand. And there is Ian, always in the shadows, along with the hint of a man named Henry. But Henry has no face.
I roll in my sleep, tossing and turning and never at peace.
As something jumps at my face with fangs and blood, my eyes fly open.
The bedroom is dim, and it seems fuzzy and unreal as my heart pounds in my chest. The blankets are tangled around my feet, making me feel imprisoned. Sweat coats my skin, the humidity and my nightmares combining. I kick the covers off, lying exposed on the bed staring at the ceiling.
A soft snore all too close pulls my eyes to the corner.
Ian sleeps in a camping chair in the corner of the bedroom. His legs are stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. A shotgun rests in his arms, pointing at the ceiling. I can see a stake poking out of his pocket.
Last I saw him, he was heading to bed on the couch.
But at some point, he snuck back in here without me hearing him. He stood guard. With a gun. Over me, not his sister or grandmother. Through another intended sleepless night.
I lie back down, my cheek on the pillow. I study Ian’s face. The scruff that’s always on his chin. His dark, heavy brows. The tight lines that are already forming around his eyes from the constant worry. His thin lips pressed together tightly, even in sleep.
The heart is a complicated thing. Ian’s. Mine.
I stare at him until I fall back asleep.
I’M BOTH RELIEVED AND ANXIOUS when Ian drives me back to the Estate Wednesday morning. It looks exactly the same as it did when we left, but darker somehow, full of secrets.
Ian insists on carrying my bag up to the door, where Rath takes it. He was waiting for us.
“I work the next two days,” Ian says. He lingers on the porch after Rath has taken my bag into the house. “But maybe I could come by Saturday evening and we can do some more work.”
I’ve never been a good liar, so I do my best. I look Ian in the eye and try to breathe normal and slow. “I actually have something I need to take care of Saturday. What about Sunday?”
There’s a flicker in Ian’s eyes, and I already feel like I’ve been caught in the act. But he just nods. “Everyone will be at church Sunday morning, so we’ll have the run of town to ourselves.”
“You mean you’re not a church goer?” I tease with the hint of a smile.