Believe Me (Shatter Me, #6.5) (15)

Ella’s emotions take a sudden turn.

I look up to find her staring at me now with concern, with a palpable fear—for me.

“Or I can stay here,” she says more quietly. “I don’t have to go anywhere.”

“Uh, yes, princess, you do—”

“Be quiet, Kenji.”

“We need you out there,” he insists, throwing his arms wide. “You have to be there—we can’t just deci—”

“Aaron,” Ella says, placing a hand on my chest. “Are you going to be okay?”

I stiffen, then step back.

The question inspires in me a reaction I do not admire. I bristle at the sympathy in her voice, at the thought that she might think me incapable of surviving a few hours on my own.

Understanding hits me with the force of a sledgehammer:

Ella thinks I am broken.

“I’ll be fine,” I say, unable to meet her eyes. “I have, as you said, a great deal to do.”

“Oh,” she says carefully. “Okay.”

I can still feel her studying me, and though I don’t know what she sees in my face, my expression appears to have convinced her that I won’t turn to dust in her absence. An approximation of the truth.

A tense silence stretches out between us.

“All right, great,” Ella finally says, all false brightness. “So, I’ll see you tonight? Or sooner— I mean, depending on how quickly I can—”

Kenji makes a sound; something like a choked laugh. “Yeah, if I were you, I’d clear my schedule.”

“Love,” I say quietly. “Are you sure everything is okay?”

“Absolutely,” she says, straining to smile wider. She squeezes my hand, kissing me briefly before pulling away. “I promise. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Ella is still lying. It hits me like a blow.

“Hey, sorry about the wedding, man,” Kenji says, making a face. “Who knew the downside of overthrowing a corrupt government was that we’d have absolutely no free time?”

I swallow, hard, ignoring the fresh vise around my chest. “I see everyone already knows about that.”

“Yeah, I mean, it was J’s idea to postpone. There’s just so much to do, and trying to have the wedding at night was going to be really complicated, and she thought it would be better to jus—”

“Kenji,” she says sharply. She shoots him a look I can’t entirely decipher, but her anger surprises me.

“My bad, princess.” Kenji holds up both hands. “My bad. I didn’t realize it was controversial to let the groom know what was happening with his own wedding, but I guess I just don’t know how weddings work, do I?” He says that last part with an edge, irritation souring his expression.

I have no idea what’s going on between them.

Ella rolls her eyes, more frustrated with Kenji than I’ve ever seen her. She practically stomps toward him, hugging herself against the cold. I hear her mutter, “You’re going to pay for that,” before they’re off, the two of them disappearing into the distance without a backward glance.

Without me.

I stand there for so long after they’re gone that the sun finally moves toward the horizon, taking with it any lingering warmth. I shiver slightly as the temperatures plummet, but I can ignore the cold. I cannot, however, seem to ignore the dull ache in my chest.

When I woke up this morning I’d thought this would be the happiest day of my life. Instead, as the day approaches dusk—

I feel hollow.

The dog barks suddenly, a series of sharp yaps in a row. When I turn to face the creature it makes an altogether different sound, something like a growl, and jumps up enthusiastically, lifting its paws to my pant leg. I give the animal a firm look, indicating with my index finger that it should disengage immediately. It sinks, slowly, back onto its feet, tail wagging.

Another bark.

I sigh at the sight of its eager, upturned face. “I suppose I shouldn’t be ungrateful. You seem to be the only one interested in my company today.”

A bark.

“Very well. You may come with me.”

The dog rises up onto all four legs, panting, tail wagging harder.

“But if you defecate on any interior surface—or chew up my boots, or urinate on my clothes—I will put you right back outside. You will hold your bowel movements until you are a considerable distance away from me. Is that clear?”

Another responding bark.

“Good,” I say, and walk away.

The dog chases after me so quickly its snout bumps my heels. I listen to the sound of its paws hitting the ground; I can hear it breathing, sniffing the earth.

“First,” I tell it, “someone needs to give you a bath. Not me, obviously. But someone.”

The dog gives an aggressive, eager yap at that, and I realize with a start that I’m able to get a bead on its emotions. The reading, however, is imprecise; the creature doesn’t always understand what I’m saying, so its emotional responses are inconsistent. But I see now that the dog understands essential truths.

For some inexplicable reason, this animal trusts me. More perplexing: my earlier declaration made it happy.

I don’t know much about dogs, but I’ve never heard of one that enjoyed being bathed. Though it occurs to me then that if the animal understood the word bath, it must once have had an owner.