“Rabbit?” Dolly lay down beside me.
“Yeah?”
“Do you feel sad?” Her eyes were so big. I could see tears in them.
“I ain’t sad,” I replied flatly and slumped down until I faced her. Dolly smelled of roses again—my favorite scent. That perfume . . . her . . .
Dolly laid her hand over mine on the mattress between us. “Your papa died. It’s a sad day. You . . .” She looked nervous. “You can cry if you want. It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone.”
I frowned. “I don’t cry.”
“Ever?”
“No.” I tried to think of a time when I’d cried. There had never been one.
“You won’t miss your papa?”
I thought about her question. Then I answered with the truth. “No.”
Dolly gasped. “But you do miss your mummy though, yeah?”
I shook my head. “No.” My eyes narrowed as I tried to read Dolly’s shocked face. I thought of my mama. Thought of her as she dropped me off at the Earnshaw estate gates. Pictured her watching me in the kitchen before she gave me up. Thought of how she cried herself to sleep at night while whispering my name.
And I felt nothing at all.
“She means nothin’ to me. No one does.” As Dolly sucked in a quick breath, I felt something burn in my chest.
“I . . . I don’t mean nothin’ to you, Rabbit? Even me? Your Dolly?” A tear fell from the corner of her eye and rolled down her cheek. I watched the drop fall, and something ripped in my stomach. Her bottom lip was trembling.
My hand jerked out and I wiped the tear with my thumb. “Only you.” Dolly held her breath, searching my face. I glanced down, not knowing what this feeling in my chest, and now my stomach, was.
“What?” Dolly asked, sniffing back her tears. She took my hand in hers and squeezed.
I looked at our hands and tried to imagine life if Dolly left me. If I never saw her again, like I wouldn’t my mama and papa. This time I didn’t feel nothing . . . I felt everything. I felt fire in my blood and anger so bright it burned my eyes.
“You mean something,” I said through gritted teeth. “You ain’t like everyone else. I couldn’t give a fuck about anyone else. Not a single fucking soul . . . only you.”
Dolly’s wobbling lips moved into a slow smile. She threw her arms around me and hugged me. I couldn’t stand anyone touching me but her. And all she did was touch me—hold my hand, hug me. Her hands were always on me.
No one else would ever come close.
“Good,” she breathed. “Because you’re my favorite person ever. Ever that has ever existed in all the world.”
The rip in my stomach vanished.
Dolly lay back down, resting her head on her hand. “You’re gonna live with us now, Rabbit.”
I nodded. Mr. Earnshaw told me that after my papa had died. Told me he was my legal guardian, and that it had been arranged with my papa when I first came to live here. If anything ever happened to my papa, I’d belong to Mr. Earnshaw. Now I did. He said he was making a room up for me.
I wanted it to be the room next door to Dolly’s.
Better still, I wanted to just share Dolly’s room. I didn’t really sleep anyway.
There was a knock at the door. We sat up just as Dolly’s nanny, Mrs. Jenkins, came through. Her eyes narrowed on us lying on the bed, close. “Heathan,” she said. “Mr. Earnshaw would like to see you in his office.” She looked at Dolly and folded her arms across her chest. “Where are your mourning clothes, Ellis? It’s disrespectful to dress in color on such a sad day as this.”
“I told her to change,” I said, sitting up. I didn’t like Mrs. Jenkins. Didn’t like how she spoke to Dolly, hovered around her. “I always want her in color.” Mrs. Jenkins looked at me. I glared at her, my lip hooking into a sneer. “Never in black.”
The blood fell from her face.
“Come, Mr. James,” she said, flustered, and turned for the door. I looked at Dolly. Her head was bowed, her shoulders hunched. I got up from the bed and put my finger under Dolly’s chin. Her head lifted slowly, and eventually so did her eyes.
“I’ll be back soon,” I promised. I tipped my head in the direction of her favorite book on the nightstand. “I’ll read to you when I return.”
She smiled, and everything was okay again.
“Mr. James!” I snapped my head to Mrs. Jenkins, who was tapping her foot impatiently as she waited by the door.
Putting my hand in my pocket, I ran my fingers over the face of my watch. I followed Mrs. Jenkins down the hallway. We were traveling the back route to Mr. Earnshaw’s office.