“Go to bed, Vittoria,” I say, and turn to head downstairs and into the library, where I don’t expect her to follow. But, as usual with her, I am wrong. She walks inside and looks at the place we were. I watch her. She’s wearing a tank top and shorts. Her hair, much like her sister’s, is tangled from sleep. But still, she’s fucking beautiful. And more. I can’t fucking drag my eyes away.
“Thank you,” she says when she finally meets my gaze, a flush to her neck and cheeks. I guess she’s remembering what happened in here earlier too. “Again. For Emma. I didn’t notice when she slipped out of the bed.”
“Were you sleeping in there with her?”
“Of course. I don’t want her to be afraid.”
“Maybe we’re not the monsters you make us out to be, Dandelion.” I walk to where the whiskey bottle is and pour myself one although I don’t drink it. My head already throbs.
“I heard what you said to her,” she says, walking to me but stopping a short distance away. “About growing into it. You were talking about her scar, weren’t you?”
I nod.
“She got it during the accident. Glass cut her face.”
“She’s lucky. I’m guessing the intention wasn’t only to scar her.”
She stops. “What are you talking about?”
I sigh. “Nothing. I’m going to bed.”
“Tell me.”
“Mommy or Daddy have brown eyes, Dandelion?”
“What?”
I snort. “Nothing. Never mind.” I take a few steps away.
“Why?” she asks, stopping me.
“Why what?”
“Why were you talking about her scar?”
“She brought it up.”
“Brought it up how?”
“Comparing hers to mine. She touched mine, then hers. I assumed that’s what she was doing.”
“I didn’t even realize she thought about it. It’s not like she’s looking at herself in the mirror or something.” She sits down on the couch, thoughtful, a furrow forming between her eyebrows. She’s worried about her sister. I get it.
“She’ll be fine,” I tell her. “She may not talk, but I get the feeling she sees a whole lot more than you could know.”
“That’s what worries me,” she says, looking up at me as if looking for an answer. It’s one I’m not equipped to give.
“She’ll be fine. People survive shit. Go to bed, Vittoria.”
“Vittoria? Not Dandelion?”
“Don’t start. I’m fucking tired.”
“I guess you would be, considering the activities of the night.”
I grin. “Activities you quite enjoyed.”
She flushes.