All the Little Lights
Page 55

I closed my eyes, feeling more tears wet my face. I wiped them away and turned to face Duke. He was still breathing hard, still glowering at me.
“Keep him away from here, Catherine, or I’ll make him disappear.”
I pushed through my fear and walked toward him, pointing at his stained button-down. “You won’t go near Elliott, do you hear me? I’ll leave. I’ll leave and never come back if you lay a finger on him!”
Duke was surprised, blinking and fidgeting, unsure how to respond.
“The Juniper can’t keep going without me. You do what I say,” I hissed. “Go to bed!” I commanded, pointing upstairs.
Duke smoothed his tie and then backed away, turning for the stairway. He climbed slowly, reaching the top and turning right toward his room down the hall. When I heard his door slam shut, I hurried upstairs and into my room, then pushed my bed against the door and sat on the mattress for extra weight.
I covered my mouth, both mortified and afraid. I’d never spoken to Duke that way, and I wasn’t sure what would happen now. He was the most intimidating of the guests, and his failure to frighten me into submission meant uncertainty. I worried someone new and more frightening would come to keep me in line.
The dresser scraped against the floor as I pushed it against my door. Just as I positioned myself to move the bed, a strange noise gave me pause.
Plink, plink.
I froze.
Plink.
The sound was coming from my bedroom window.
I walked over, noticing Elliott in the perfect circle cast by one of the remaining streetlamps. I raised my window, smiling down at him.
“You okay?” he called.
I nodded, wiping my face. “I’m sorry. I hate that you saw that.”
“Don’t worry about me. I can help you down if you want. You don’t have to stay there.”
“I’m in my room. The door’s locked. I’m safe.”
“Catherine.”
“You know I can’t,” I said.
“I didn’t know it was this bad.”
“It’s not bad. I’m fine.”
“I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t right. I’m worried about you.”
“You have to trust me,” I said.
Elliott dropped the rocks in his hand and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m terrified I’m going to hear that something’s happened to you. I’m afraid of what you said, about not being able to see me anymore. What kind of choice is that?”
“A real one.” I looked behind me. “You should go.”
“I can’t,” he said.
I felt the tears come again. Life at the Juniper was getting worse. Something dark was building inside, and I didn’t want Elliott to get caught in it. Him being unable to leave me was going to get him hurt—or worse.
“Please don’t,” I said. “I can handle this.”
“I should call someone. At least let me talk to Aunt Leigh.”
“You promised,” I said.
“That’s not fair. You shouldn’t have asked me to promise something like that.”
“But I did. And you did . . . and you’re breaking it.”
“Catherine,” he begged. “Let me come up. I can’t leave after seeing what I saw.”
When I didn’t protest, he took a running start, climbing up the side of the house and into my window. He stood with his hands on his hips until he caught his breath.
I looked back at my door. “You shouldn’t be here!” I hissed. It was the first time someone other than a guest, Tess, or Mama had been inside since Dad was taken away in the ambulance.
He stood, towering over me, then looked around. “Lightning didn’t strike. I’ll be quiet.” He turned to close my window and then took a few steps. “Has this changed at all since you were a little girl?”
I shook my head, trying not to panic. Mama would be furious if she knew. She was more protective of the Juniper than she was of me.
“You shouldn’t be here,” I whispered.
“But I am, and unless you kick me out, I’m staying.”
“Your aunt will freak out. She might say something to Mama.”
“I’m eighteen.” He looked past me and frowned. “Why is your dresser against your door?”
I peered up at him.
“Catherine . . .” His eyes roamed over me, desperate to protect me from whatever made me so afraid that my furniture was barricading the door.
“Okay,” I said, closing my eyes. “Okay, I’ll tell you, but you can’t stay. I don’t want you feeling sorry for me. I don’t want your pity. And you have to promise not to tell. Not your aunt, not anyone at the school. No one.”
“It’s not pity, Catherine, I’m worried.”
“Promise.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
“Duke never comes in here, but sometimes Mama does, or Willow, or Poppy, or my cousin Imogen. Mama won’t let me drill holes in the wall for a lock, so I use the bed to keep them out.”
Elliott frowned. “That’s not okay.”
“They just come in to talk. They wake me up in the middle of the night sometimes. It’s unsettling. I fall asleep better with my bed against the door.” After a beat, I nudged him toward the window. “Okay, I told you. Now go to the party.”
“Catherine, I’m not going to that stupid party. I’m staying here and keeping you safe.”
“You can’t be with me all the time. Besides, I’ve handled this for over two years. Just because you know doesn’t mean anything has changed. I don’t want both of us missing things because of this place, now go.”
“Catherine . . .”
“Go, Elliott. Go, or I can’t do this with you. I can’t carry around that guilt, too.”
Elliott’s face fell, and he turned toward the window and crawled out, closing the window behind him. He pressed his fist against the glass, holding up his I love you sign. I did the same.
Happy birthday, I mouthed.
After Elliott crawled down, I opened my bottom drawer and pulled out my dad’s favorite Oklahoma University T-shirt. It was thin and had a couple of small holes, but it was the closest I could be to him after something so frightening. I rolled it up and lay in my bed, hugging it to me. The shirt hadn’t smelled like him in a long time, but I remembered, and I tried to visualize him sitting on the end of the bed, waiting for me to fall asleep like he did when I was little. Before long, I was drifting off, but it wasn’t Dad I felt was keeping me safe in that space between awake and asleep. It was Elliott.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Elliott
I buttoned up my letterman jacket and shoved my hands in my pockets. The bonfire was twice my size, but the freezing rain that was drizzling made it hard to ward off the cold. Everyone except the football players was already drunk by the time Sam and I had arrived, but the team was taking swigs from tequila bottles to catch up.
I ducked my head when the wind would blow, tucking my chin into the top of my wool jacket. Sam jumped up and down and bounced from one foot to the other to keep the blood flowing. “I’m going to ask Scotty for a shot. He brought a bottle of Fireball. You want some?”
I frowned. “This is miserable. I’m going back to Catherine’s.”
Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “You go inside?”
“I did tonight.”