Hush (Black Lotus #3) (17 page)

“No!” I bellow.

“I think you should just—”

“Declan,” I say, cutting his words off, refusing to wait any longer to see where my brother’s buried. “If this were your mom, and I told you to ‘Take some time,’ would you be able to do that?”

He doesn’t answer me.

“I didn’t think so,” I tell him and he sees my point when he says, “I’ll call the valet to pull the car around.”

I throw my jacket on before we head down to the lobby where Declan’s Mercedes roadster is already waiting for us out front. I watch as the light drizzle from outside collects on the windshield and then gets wiped away with the wipers, and suddenly, the urgency I was feeling back at Lotus has dissipated. Pike is dead, and I’m not going to the cemetery to say goodbye because he’s still with me. But it’s a sinking feeling, maybe a part of me is still in denial, but it’s the thought of seeing his name on a burial plot that I fear.

Declan begins to speed when we merge onto I-90 E, and I look over to him, asking somberly, “Can you slow down?”

He draws his foot back off the accelerator, slowing the car. “Is everything okay?”

I look out of my window, raindrops skewing my view, and admit, “I’m scared.”

He takes my hand, but I keep my head turned away from him.

“We don’t have to do this right now if you’re not ready.”

“Is anybody ever ready?” The question is heavy between us as I turn to face him.

He holds my hand tighter and doesn’t respond.

“He needs flowers,” I tell him. “Can we stop and get him some flowers?”

“Of course, darling.”

I pull out my phone and find a florist not too far from the interstate, and when we arrive, my request is simple. “I need all the pink daisies you have in stock.”

“Daisies?” Declan questions when the sales clerk goes to the back cooler.

“They’re my favorite.”

“I remember,” he says with a subtle smile and then kisses the top of my head, resting his lips there for a moment while we wait for the lady to reappear.

“Any shade of pink?” the woman hollers from the back.

“Yes. Mix them,” I shout back to her. “All of them.”

I wait with Declan’s arm wrapped around me, tucking me against his side, and when the clerk reemerges from the back, my eyes widen.

“Christ, that’s a lot of flowers,” Declan notes in surprise.

“One hundred and sixty-three stems,” she tells us. “You wiped me out of inventory.”

I watch as she wraps the daisies in huge sheets of brown paper and ties them up with several cords of natural raffia. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

Declan pays and takes the flowers in his arms. Popping the trunk, he lays the bouquet down and we both laugh a little when they fill the trunk entirely.

We continue our drive, hitting light patches of traffic, and finally arrive at the gates of Mount Olivet. He parks the car at the funeral home that’s right through the entrance.

“I’m going to go grab a map. I’ll be right back.”

An eerie chill creeps along my arms and it only takes a minute for Declan to reappear with a map in hand.

“Where is he?”

“Block two,” he murmurs as he pulls out of the parking space and drives through the cemetery. I look at the gray headstones as we pass them, and before I know it, he’s pulling the car along the edge of the grass.

“This is it,” he says, turning the car off.

I look out the window and choke up, knowing that somewhere among all these gravestones is my brother. And he’s all alone. I battle between not wanting to get out of this car and jumping out of this car to run to him. I’m so scared to see the evidence of what I’ve done.

Tears spill down my cheeks effortlessly, and Declan reaches his arm over to console me.

“This is all my fault,” I strain out on a hoarse voice filled with anguish.

I turn to face Declan, and he doesn’t say a word. I know what he’s thinking; it’s the same thing I’m thinking. No one can argue that this is very much my fault, and Declan isn’t a man who will lie to comfort. We both know my part in all of this, and it makes it so much worse when there’s no truth out there that can take away any amount of my responsibility.

“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks, and I nod because I know I can’t do this alone.

We get out of the car, and he grabs the flowers from the trunk, placing them in my arms. With his arm wrapped around my shoulder, he leads the way. We walk around, looking at the names on the grave markers as my tears drip into the mass of daisies.

We wander for what feels like hours, but is probably only a minute before Declan stops.

“Elizabeth.”

I look up at him and he tilts his head over to a flat stone, and when I see it, I gasp in horror. “Oh, my God.”

And there it is.

His beautiful name engraved in stone, marking his death.

I step in front of it, my body shuddering in tormenting pain. Every dagger I’ve ever thrown coming right back to stab me in my chest, and Declan has to step behind me with both of his hands gripping my shoulders.

“How could I have done this?” I cry and then fall to my knees and out of Declan’s hands as I clutch the flowers to my chest. “He was my best friend, Declan.”

“I know,” his tender voice consoles as he now sits behind me.

I lay the flowers on the grass beside me and lean forward on my knees, bracing my hands on top of his name. “I’m so sorry, Pike. I should’ve just killed myself.” My words lose themselves within my agonizing sobs and falter when I can’t focus on anything aside from the debilitating guilt and remorse. “It should’ve been me! It should’ve been me!” I wail repeatedly.

Declan reaches around my waist and pulls me away, off my knees and onto my bottom, and I fall back into him. I grab ahold of his arms crossing over my chest, and dig my nails into them as I sob, wishing I would’ve shot myself that day.

“He didn’t deserve to die.”

“Shh,” Declan breathes in my ear. “I know, baby. I know.”

“It should’ve been me,” I keep saying as Declan continues to hush and console me.

His hold on me is merciless as I allow every emotion to swallow me up, and when it finally relents and spits me out, I’m utterly spent. The dipping sun measures the hours we’ve been here. My body aches as I move to sit up on my own, and when I turn back to look at Declan, I notice his bloodshot eyes. He’s been crying with me.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my throat dry and scratchy.

“Don’t be. You needed to get that out. You hold so much inside of you.”

“I’m a horrible person.”

“You’re not,” he tells me. “You made horrible choices, but you’re not a horrible person.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Maybe not today, but one day you will. I’m going to make you believe me.”

He stands and reaches down to me, helping me up. When I’m steady on my feet, I turn and scoot the flowers to rest over where Pike lies. I take a moment, drained of all my tears, not to say goodbye, but to pay respect to the most selfless person I’ve ever known.

TIME FREEZES, AND
yet, the sun rises and the sun sets, only to rise once again.

I woke yesterday but was unable to get out of bed. Too much guilt. Too much sorrow in a world filled with regrets. So, I hid under the covers and slept, and woke, and slept. Declan checked on me throughout the day, allowing me to wallow in the misery of my wrongdoings. He ordered food from the kitchen, but I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t risk feeding the pain for fear it would devour me fully.

Emptiness is my companion as I stand here and stare out the window up into the blue sky. It’s been two days since I faced Pike’s resting place, and although I haven’t seen him or heard his voice, I’ve felt his arms around me ever since.

“You’re up,” Declan says when he walks into the room, dressed down in dark denim and a plain cotton T-shirt. “How are you feeling?”

“Numb.”

He walks over to me, saying, “I’m going to make you feel something today,” before kissing me. “Get dressed.”

“What are we doing?”

“Whatever we want.” He smirks and then shuts the door behind him.

After I shower and pull my hair together, I match his leisurely attire and opt for jeans and a fitted top. When I walk out into the living room, he stands with my jacket already in his hands.

“You’re up to no good,” I tease.

“You look stunning.”

“Yeah,” I quip. “You’re definitely up to no good.”

Once we reach the lobby, he leads me out to the busy streets of The Loop and hails a cab.

“A cab? Where’s your car?”

“We’re lying low today. Trust me,” he says when he opens the door for me. I scoot across the back seat and Declan tells the cabbie, “Navy Pier.”

“Navy Pier?”

“You ever been?”

“Oddly, no. You?” I ask.

“No.”

“So why are we going?”

“Why not?”

His spontaneity makes me smile, and I make the mindful choice to hand myself over to him today. Because, after all, he’s the reason I keep going.

We’re among all the tourists when we hop out of the cab. Two people who blend in with all the others. We walk hand in hand into a souvenir shop and look at all the trinkets, and Declan thinks he’s cute when he buys me a cheesy Chicago shirt that reads
It’s better in the bleachers
across the front.

“Wasted money.”

He takes the shirt and slips it over my head, saying, “Then you better wear it and not let it go to waste.”

He pulls it down, and when I push my arms out of the sleeves, he takes a step back and smiles.

“Are you happy now?”

He laughs, “You look cute.”

With a roll of my eyes, I join in with a light chuckle. He’s blithe and lighthearted, and it’s refreshing to see this side of him. We’ve had so many days filled with dark clouds and suffocating emotions, but to see that rays of light can break through those clouds gives me hope for us.

We walk along the water enjoying the spring breeze. He buys me a funnel cake when I tell him I’ve never tasted one and then licks the powdered sugar off my lips after I inhale the fried treat. When I’m thoroughly buzzed with sweet carbs, he takes me up to the Ferris wheel.

“Come on.”

“No way, Declan. That is way too high.”

“What are you saying? Tough-as-nails Elizabeth is scared of heights?”

“Umm . . . yeah,” I admit with my head craned back, looking up at the enormous wheel.

“It’s a
Ferris wheel
!” he exclaims.

“Yes. I know this,” I say, and with my arm up towards it, I exasperate, “and it’s a deathtrap!”

He shakes his head, laughing, “It’s the mildest ride here.”

“Don’t care. You’re not getting me on that thing.”

He releases a heavy sigh and succumbs. “All right. No Ferris wheel.” Taking my hand, he says, “I’ve got something better in mind.”

We make our way over to a small fishing vendor pavilion on the north dock. With bait and rods in hand, we find a spot to cast our lines.

“Give me your rod and I’ll hook the bait for you.”

“I’m capable of hooking it myself,” I say with a confident air.

“Go for it, darling.”

His eyes watch as I dunk my hand into the bait bucket, pull out a shiner, and pierce the hook through it.

Looking up at him holding his rod, I tease, “You need me to help you?”

“I’m impressed.”

“I came from the streets, Declan. Baiting a hook is nothing,” I tell him with a smirk and then cast my line into the water.

“So, I take it you’ve fished before.”

I watch him cast his line out and respond, “No, not really. Only once with my dad. He would hold the rod for me, and when we would get a bite, he’d let me reel it in. What about you?”

“All the time. When I was living here, I’d take my boat out during my down time, which wasn’t often, but I’d get away when I could and toss out a line or two.”

“I got something!” I practically squeal when something tugs on my line. I laugh with childish excitement, and then a little fish surfaces.

“It’s a perch.” He takes the small fish and pulls the hook out, all the while smiling at me.

“I’m winning,” I brag, and when he tosses the fish back into the water, he says, “I wasn’t aware this was a competition.”

“Well, now you are. And you’re losing.”

I grab another shiner from the bucket and cast my line.

“Tell me a story,” I request. “Something good.”

“My darling wants a story,” he says to himself and then takes a moment, squinting against the sunlight reflecting off the water. “I did my undergrad at the University of Edinburgh and was living at my fraternity house. We used to throw a lot of parties. I was never much of a drinker, but it was the end of exam week, and I’d been under a lot of stress. The girl I was seeing at the time was at the party that night, and I had gotten piss drunk. She told me she was going to call it a night and crash in my room since she had been drinking too. She was nowhere near as drunk as I was, but still drunk enough that she knew better than to drive.”

He pauses when his rod dips. Another small perch.

“One to one. It’s a tie,” he says with a grin, and then continues when he grabs another shiner. “Anyway, I stayed up for a few more hours before stumbling upstairs to my room. I was so wasted, and all I can remember is stripping off my clothes while everything around me was spinning. I pulled the sheets back and slipped in behind what I assumed was my girlfriend.”