“Maybe.”
“Bullshit.”
I rip my hand from his and turn away from him. Behind me, I feel him move closer, but he doesn’t touch me.
There’s an invisible boundary between us. Even in the absence of tangible proof, I can feel it. It’s a barrier that’s built of lost time, old memories, and new circumstances.
It’s built of all the things we’re keeping from each other.
All the things we’re refusing to say out loud.
All the secrets we’re still clinging to.
“I’m gonna go ask Fiona to get breakfast ready,” he says, shifting gears abruptly enough to give me emotional whiplash.
“Okay,” I reply with my back still to him.
“There are clothes in the wardrobe behind you,” he says. “Take whatever you want.”
That makes me turn around.
I noticed the wardrobe yesterday, but I hadn’t had the interest or the inclination to examine my surroundings. I move forward now and throw open the doors, desperate for a distraction.
“Whoa,” I breath, taking in the wealth of clothes sitting just inside.
They’re all displayed on black hangers that in themselves look as expensive as anything I’ve ever owned.
I glance back at Cillian, who’s observing me with an unknowable expression on his face. “You just had a fully stocked wardrobe waiting for me?”
“It’s more like a preserved wardrobe,” he answers vaguely. “It’s been like this for years.”
“Years?” I repeat with a frown. “Who do these clothes belong to?”
When I don’t get an answer, I turn to Cillian, only to notice a veil has settled over his eyes.
“Cillian?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not a story that concerns you.”
Something about the way he says it hurts me.
I realize that a naïve part of me just assumed that he trusts me enough to tell me anything. But of course he doesn’t trust me completely. He barely knows me.
“Right, well… Fine. I’d like you to leave now,” I say bitterly.
“Saoirse…”
“Now. I’d like to be alone.”
Cillian sighs and heads for the door. He lingers only a moment at the threshold.
“You have freedom of the grounds. Go wherever you like. But just keep in mind, I can only protect you as long as you remain within the confines of this compound,” he tells me. “If you leave… I can’t guarantee your safety.”
Then he leaves. The door clicks shut behind him with finality.
Sunlight streams in through the open blinds.
So why does it feel like the darkness has seeped back in?