Read Online Graveminder by Melissa Marr - Free Book Online

almost desperately, and he wasn’t sure whether it was a cry or an apology she whispered as she wrapped herself around him. The screen door hit him as he let go of it to hold her tighter to him. A part of him—a very insistent part—wanted to ignore her grief and the inevitable this-is-a-mistake that morning would bring. Another more responsible part knew she would be running by morning and he would be kicking himself for ending up back where they always were if he did that.
    They stepped into the house, and the door snapped shut with a bang. Rebekkah pulled back. “I’m sorry; I shouldn’t—” She stopped, shook her head, and all but ran up the stairs.
    He followed. If he were a different sort of man, he wouldn’t let things end there, or maybe if she were a different sort of person, but he knew them both well enough to know that what she was inviting him to do was take the responsibility for the choice out of her hands so later she could blame him.
    Not this time.
    It was difficult for either of them to have any sort of resolve where the other was concerned. They both claimed they did, but inevitably his decision not to repeat the same pattern and her insistence that they were just friends failed. Over the years, they’d avoided talking by ending up in bed, and they’d ended fights in bed, but they’d always circled back to Rebekkah’s running and his deciding he was a fool for thinking this time was going to be different.
    But here I am.
    The difference was that this time he was standing outside her room, not in it.
    At the top of the stairs, he asked, “Are you sleeping in your old room?”
    She paused. “I can stay in Maylene’s room, so you ... that way you have a bed, too, or ... I could sleep in Ella’s—in the other room so ... you—”
    “No.” He put a hand on her forearm. “You don’t need to sleep in Maylene’s room or in Ella’s room. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”
    She shook her head. “You don’t need to ... I’m okay. I mean ... I’m not , but—”
    “It’s fine.” Gently he put a hand on either side of her face and looked at her. “You need to get some sleep.”
    Indecision flickered in her expression, but after a moment, she nodded and went into her room. She pushed the door partway closed, but it was still open enough that he could follow. He considered it. In the past, he would’ve. She needed him, and he had repeatedly told himself that need was enough. With any other woman, it was all he wanted.
    With Amity, it is enough, but Bek is not Amity.
    Resolutely Byron pulled her door shut and went back downstairs. He sat on the sofa for a minute, lowered his head to his hands, and thought about everything that they needed to talk about, about all the things that were a mess, about the reasons that he wasn’t going to go right back upstairs.
    He couldn’t sleep in Ella’s old room. She had been gone a long time, but sometimes he didn’t think Rebekkah would ever truly her let go. In death, Ella stood between them in a way she never would have in life. That, like so many other topics, wasn’t something Rebekkah was willing to discuss. Of course, there were also plenty of topics he was grateful not to discuss tonight. He was dreading telling Rebekkah that Maylene was murdered—and that Chris seemed unwilling to investigate it.
    Byron thought about the homeless girl he’d seen lingering at the house yesterday afternoon and again tonight. She was young, a teenager, and too slight to have inflicted the injuries he’d seen on Maylene. He wondered if she traveled with someone, maybe a man. Byron checked the windows and doors again, but saw no sign of intrusion. Probably just hungry , he decided . She’d known that the house was empty, and when a person has no home, finding an empty house is surely tempting. He made a mental note to suggest that Chris talk to the girl. Maybe she’d seen something. Even if she hadn’t, letting her wander around alone in town without resources