Hush

Orion made sure to retreat into her cold, unfeeling place every time she saw Maddox. And since the news of Thing One’s capture, the feeling had grown stronger. Maddox brought with him a connection to not only the little girl she was in the past, but the girl who had spent ten years in hell too. Of course, she knew it was his job to talk about these things, but that didn’t make it any easier.

Which was why she had to be stone, so she wasn’t cut by the truth, by Maddox’s words, by the ugliness of the whole ordeal. And to protect her from the feelings seeing him gave her, like razor wire butterflies in her stomach, fluttering and cutting, ripping up her insides. Feelings of old mixing with new, confusing her—frightening her.

Once they were done with the final interviews, April had casually mentioned that Maddox wanted to drop by and check on Orion.

Orion had all but screamed in her face. Upon reflection, she was pretty sure she had screamed in her face.

To her credit, April hadn’t reacted to this sudden burst of near hysterical energy. She had just nodded in understanding and continued talking about how she had to binge Breaking Bad.

Which, she did.

April had been right about the show—it was damn good. So good that Orion had gotten sucked in and watched an entire season with April on the sofa and she’d almost felt . . . comfortable? Almost safe. Like she had all those years ago when they’d sit together eating Little Debbies and watching Charmed.

April was resilient, she’d give her that. The other night with the ugly words, the ugly side of Orion hadn’t scared her off. She hadn’t stopped with the visits, hadn’t mentioned leaving the apartment, or anything serious, apart from the other night.

She mostly babbled on about bad dates, about her asshole boss, about Eric who Orion was beginning to understand April was in love with.

Orion was waiting for her to give up. Expecting it. Her guilt to run out of her like a bathtub emptying out. She was young. Orion was a part of her past. April was a good person, but she’d always been a little selfish. A little flaky. So, Orion expected her to flake off by now, half-expected to discover some selfish plan of April’s to get all her money. Whatever shine that had come from her “best friend” returning from the proverbial grave had worn off and showed just how tarnished and ugly she really was.

But people changed, apparently. And April wasn’t giving up.

That was why Orion answered the door.

Because she was softening. As well as someone like her could, at least. Something was happening to her previously iron-clad resolve. Connections were messy with the plans she had ahead of her. Messy.

Deadly.

Ten

It had been hell not seeing her.

Maddox thought he was somewhat of an expert on hell, given his job, what he’d seen, and the demons he carried around with him. Of course, all of that had changed when Orion came back. He saw hell in her eyes that he couldn’t even comprehend.

So yeah, compared to what she went through, a few weeks of sleepless nights, shitty days, and countless bottles of whiskey was fucking Disneyland.

Nonetheless, he’d gone crazy.

He’d spent years thinking about her, not knowing where she was, thinking she was most likely buried in a shallow grave where no one would ever find her.

He had always believed she was alive. Or so he had thought, until he saw her. Listened to her speak in that flat yet strong tone while she stared at him through lifeless, yet beautiful eyes. Ri was dead. She made that clear every time he saw her. And he believed her. This was nothing like the girl he’d entombed in his mind.

But he wanted her, this new version. This woman who had survived hell. He wanted to get to know her, to help her, protect her. Fuck, he probably wanted it all for selfish reasons. To see her make a semblance of a life so it didn’t feel like he’d failed her. Or maybe just to torture himself with her presence because he deserved that punishment.

She had grown up beautiful. Anyone could’ve seen that. Even in the hand-me-down clothes she’d worn as a child, even with the last name that seemed to stick on her like gum. She was beautiful. It was that simple.

But her beauty now was nothing but simple. It was warped. Stained with pain, with death, with a kind of hollowness that Maddox hadn’t known could exist.

He had tried to tell himself that it would dissipate with the weeks of freedom. Once she had time to adjust to her new life. When he had time to either rid himself of his guilt or learn to live with it. He thought he was ready to let her go, to let go of any hope or notion that they could ever know each other again. He was alright with a future without knowing Orion Darby, or so he told himself.