“Not at all.” He tilted his head, one hand running over her hair. “Why is this upsetting you so much?”
“Because it should.” She shuddered. Because your mother hurt you. Because you don’t know how wrong it is. And now I’ve done the same to you, and you’re making excuses for me. “You shouldn’t ever hurt someone you love. Never. And I love you.”
His eyes were so full of emotion that she couldn’t stand to look at them. He dipped down and kissed her. It was brief but tender. When he drew back, his eyes were heavily lidded. “Take a moment. Drink. When you’re ready, we need to talk.”
She was afraid of what his answer would be. “What about?”
“Your sister.”
Clare still felt numb. But the anger was gone. Now, when she thought about Beth, all she felt was a desperate longing. She would have given anything to turn the clock back just by an hour or two. “I’m ready to talk now.”
“Not just yet. You’re shaken. Rest a moment; drink the tea. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
She picked up the cup and forced herself to swallow. It was still hot and burned her throat, but she drained it in one go. She put the cup aside and wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. “Okay. Ready.”
Dorran laughed. “Oh, my darling, you are incorrigible. Very well. Come here.”
She rested her head against his chest as his hand stroked over her hair. He held her a moment before he started speaking. “How far away does she live?”
“Four hours.”
“In good weather? With clear roads?”
Clare squeezed her eyes closed. “Yes.”
“So perhaps six or seven if we are slowed down.” His hand continued to move over her hair in soft, tender strokes. “If we could reach her… would you want to try? Aware of how slim the odds are, aware of how much danger is involved, knowing that it could still be too late?”
She clung to Dorran, a lump blocking her throat. “Are you saying it’s possible?”
“Look out the window, my dear. It is raining.”
Clare lifted her head. She’d felt dogged by the scratching noise, unable to escape it even for a moment. As she stared at the tall glass panes, fresh tears escaped. It hadn’t been hollows after all; she’d been hearing the steady thunder of water hitting the stones and the slate roof. For the first time since her arrival, rain washed the ever-present frost from the glass. She rose, feeling like she was in a dream, and stepped towards the view.
The snow still lay heavily on the ground, but its crisp, rounded edges were turning into slush. The shrubs were poking through the white, and they stood out on the front gardens like beacons. In the distance, the dark ribbon that marked the forest was now capped with a deep, heavy green. Streaks of white still painted over the branches, but they were melting by the second.
“Oh,” Clare whispered.
Dorran stood beside her. “I noticed on the trip to the shed that the world wasn’t as cold as normal. It was enough that I needed to take my jacket off when I got back inside. And now, rain.”
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. Rivers were beginning to form in the lowest parts of the garden. Thick, glistening drops fell from the roof.
“It’s the last thing we needed to line up,” he said. “We have the car. We have the motor. We know the hollows… not well, but better. Now, we have clear roads. If we want to risk it.”
She turned. Dorran stood tall, his broad shoulders set, his expression passive. But there was an undercurrent to his words that he was trying hard to hide. It took her a second to understand it. Dorran didn’t want to leave.
He’s doing this because I want it. He’s risking everything to make me happy.
She opened her mouth then closed it again. A war waged inside her. Dorran worked tirelessly for her; he tended the garden, prepared food, safeguarded the house, and was an ever-present reassurance if she needed him. It felt almost cruel to ask for more.
If Clare had been the only part of the equation, the answer would have been easy. But her wants and needs weren’t the only thing to consider. Beth was out there, trapped in a dark box, slowly suffocating. Or maybe dead. She’d made a comment about “getting it over quickly.” The idea that her sister might already be gone was like a punch to the stomach.
Clare pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to reel her thoughts back in. Can I risk Dorran’s life for a chance to save Beth’s?
“Be calm,” Dorran murmured. “Come. Sit. Breathe deeply. We are just discussing it at the moment. You don’t have to make a choice right now.”
She shook her head. “Why is it my choice? You’d be carrying just as much risk.”
“Because I have already made my decision. I will follow where you go. If that means staying, I will be happy. If it means leaving, I will also be happy.”
“That’s not fair. I know you don’t want to go. You’re only doing this because of me.”
He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he took her hand and traced over her fingers as he talked. “I will not lie to you. I am afraid of what may happen if we go. But I am also afraid of what may happen if we stay. You are close to your sister. I heard it when you spoke to her through the radio. I see it in your eyes when you talk about her. If we stay, if we don’t even try, what will that do to you? Already, grief is crushing you… and I am poorly equipped to protect you from it.”
“That’s not your fault, though. And it’s not your responsibility to fix.”
“It is, when your feelings are entangled around my own.” His fingers continued to move over her hand, and he watched her fingers intently. “I want to take the best path
