Chapter Sixteen

JACESON

T alk to the dead?

My mind empties of all thought for a brief second, then disbelief battles skepticism for the predominant emotion, and I'm not sure how to react. Afraid to look at her and scare her away, just like I made my mother run so long ago, I do my best to reserve judgment and keep my opinions to myself.

Rue doesn't seem crazy, but people are good at hiding shit like that until it's too late. I'm proof of that. Since I have secrets that I haven't even shared with my brother, I have no room to cast stones. I twist the ring in my hand, my fingertips running over the lines etched along the edges. "And the markings?"

"The rings help quiet their voices," she murmurs so softly that I barely hear her. "The runes are wards to keep the dead away."

Static fills my head as I study the runes closer, the hair on the back of my neck lifting at the mention of voices. Her experience with voices sounds so eerily similar to my own that my grip tightens on the ring.

"Do me a favor?" She reaches over and captures my hand. Instead of reclaiming the jewelry, she shoves the metal over my pinky, the ring scraping slightly against my knuckle until it's nestled snuggly at the base of my finger.

My throat tightens at her touch, so when I speak, my question rasps harshly against my throat. "What?"

"I'm not asking you to believe me, but I am asking you to trust me." She loosens her hold and runs her fingers lightly over the ring. "Wear this for me, okay? Don't take it off."

Confusion swirls in me for a moment, then I go rigid. I jerk away from her touch and land on my feet, unable to think clearly with her so near. Placing my hands on my hips, I glare down at her, my question emerging as a growl. "Why?"

She couldn't know about my secret.

The voices in my head.

No one knows except my mother.

The thought of her telling anyone has my hands itching to wrap around her delicate throat with the need to silence her. Shame instantly heats my cheeks, but not enough for me to take back the harsh question. My fear won't let me.

She pales, swallowing hard, but she doesn't back down. "If you feel better tomorrow, I'll tell you."

I narrow my eyes, and my hands clench into fists against the need to shake answers out of her. It's only when she flinches away that I lurch back, horrified that she would actually think I would hurt her. I take a step backward, nearly tripping over the coffee table in my need to put distance between us. "I should go."

I pretend I don't see the tears that flood her eyes as I scurry from the room, feeling like an ass the whole way. Part of me wants to turn back and comfort her.

Until I feel the warm metal on my pinky.

No, she's the crazy one, not me.

She actually thinks she can speak to ghosts, but even as I leave the house, I don't remove the ring. It's not because I think it will help—the reason is much worse. I keep the ring because she gave it to me, and I'm not ready to let that connection with her go.

Though she might be as crazy as a bat, she gave me the ring because she cared.

I don't remember anyone besides my brother who ever did anything for me without expecting something in return. Rue is different. She opened herself up to me, shared the most vulnerable parts of herself, and I ran from her like a fucking coward.

I've never felt so low in my life, and I've been in plenty of low places. I'm an ass, I never claimed otherwise, yet for the first time, I regret it.

As much as I wish otherwise, Rue deserves better than someone so damaged as me.