But it was already there. Michael had made a home in my brain from the time he could speak. Maybe before. Sometimes, it felt as if he knew my mind better than I did. My hand fisted in Brody’s shirt. “It’s like he can sense when I’m happy. He has a radar for it. And if he wasn’t the one who made me that way, he’ll do anything to destroy it.”

If Michael knew about my new friends, playing violin at The Catch, the barbeques and shopping trips, he’d rip them all away. But if Michael knew about Brody…he wouldn’t stop until Brody was dead.

33

Brody

I watched as Shay shut down. Felt powerless as all the light in her eyes, those dancing golden flecks, simply drained away. I steered the boat towards Harbor. I wanted her home. Our home. Where I could hold her in my arms and tell her that everything would be okay.

But I wasn’t so sure it would be. She’d have to be free of Michael first, and I wasn’t sure how that was possible. It wasn’t enough for him to have stolen her parents. To leave her with physical reminders of the loss that she had to look at every day. Reminders of the pain he’d carved into her flesh.

I gripped the wheel harder in one hand as I slowed our approach, easing the boat alongside the dock. Shay moved with a robotic air, helping me tie off the vessel and grab the bags and other supplies. She was completely silent as she walked up to the house. Not a sound passed her lips as we put the groceries away.

When we were done, she looked at me without actually meeting my gaze. “I’m going to work on prepping the garden beds.”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

She bristled at my tone. Good. Frustrated and angry was better than this zombie who’d been staring back at me for the past hour. She glared in my direction. “Is that an order from my boss?”

“It’s an order from the person who cares about you.” But care wasn’t the right word. I was so much more than that. “The person who hates that every ounce of life slipped from you as you read that note. The person who wants you to fight.”

The annoyance fled from Shay’s face, replaced by what I could only describe as bone-deep sorrow. “I don’t know if I can. I want to. But I don’t know how to even start. And everything just seems so pointless. Hopeless.”

I crossed to Shay, framing her face in my hands. “You were already doing it. Reclaiming little pieces of your life. Your music. Friendships. Me. I see that fear taking hold in you, telling you to give all of those things up. Don’t listen.”