“Perhaps.”
As they stared at each other, Clare knew that neither of them truly believed that idea.
“I will seal off the secret passageways,” Dorran said. “But I do not know all of them yet. Until we can be certain we’re safe, I would like you to carry a weapon. And I will try to never be far from you. Just in case.”
Clare couldn’t speak. She stepped forwards and fell into Dorran’s hug. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. “Shh. We will be all right. I will keep you safe, my darling.”
It seemed unfair that he even had to. Clare closed her eyes as she and Dorran rocked together. Broad hands massaged her back until the tension left her shoulders. Clare swallowed the anxiety and instead tried to focus on the good in their lives. They didn’t know Madeline was alive—not for certain. And even if she was, she couldn’t be as much of a threat with a metal bar through her head.
“I will take care of it,” Dorran murmured.
Clare tilted her head back to meet his eyes. “We will take care of it.”
“Ha. All right. Together.”
Clare gave Dorran a quick squeeze. “Are you okay?”
“I… will be fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. I have you. And that is everything I need right now.” He kissed her forehead. “Just stay close to me.”
“I will.” She slid out of his arms and turned back to the dried utensils. “I’m just about done here. Did you want to start on the passageways straightaway or visit the garden first?”
“The garden, I think. It will need water. And some of the new plants will have started to sprout.”
Clare had been looking forwards to visiting their sanctuary again. It was the best part of Winterbourne. Tending to the tiny, fragile plants while chatting with Dorran always made the world seem brighter and warmer. It would be good to return to their routine, as much of a routine as Winterbourne allowed them, at least.
As she stacked the plates, Dorran came up beside her, using the damp dish towel to wipe down the bench. They were close enough that their arms grazed, and Clare smiled as she leaned into the touch.
The radio on the shelf crackled. It had been running for so long that the static had become a part of the background noise, and the sudden change made Clare’s breath catch. She and Dorran turned to face the small black box.
A woman’s voice floated out, distorted and tinny but unmistakable. “Clare? If you’re there, please answer. It’s me. Beth.”
Keep Reading. The story continues in Black Winter Book Two: Secrets in the Dark