Page 85 of Whispers of Wisteria

My stomach twisted.

“How do you feel?” I asked. It was a struggle to keep my voice under control, but thankfully, I didn’t slip.

“Fine,” she whispered. She still didn’t look at me.

Her shoulders were tense, and it was so hard not to reach over and grab her hand. If I could touch her, I would know if she really was ‘fine.’

“Okay,” I replied instead. I didn’t know what else to say.

I parked the car near a chain-link fence. I was already on the other side of the vehicle, opening her door, before Bianca could even move.

“Here.” I held out my hand. “We’re almost there.”

Her eyes were cloudy, and I thought she’d refuse. But then she let out a small breath and, tentatively, laid her hand in mine.

Her body was thick with stress and fear—and exhaustion. It sank into my skin like slowly spreading poison.

However, the only thing I could do was breathe and keep going.

In silence, she followed me past the gate and along the cobblestone path. And she didn’t complain when the terrain turned rough and we stepped over the moss-covered boulders.

She was there, but barely.

My pulse was soaring by the time we’d arrived.

“We’re here,” I told her, pulling back the veil of branches and leaves. I gestured for her to step through the passageway.

Bianca glanced at me, then back to the small opening, before she ducked under the leaves and walked through.

I followed her into the grove.

The clearing was only around two hundred and fifty square feet, and across the outer edge was a small, clear stream that feddirectly into a nearby lake. The ground was soft from the thick moss.

“What do you think?” I asked, my anxiety rising as her expression remained eerily unmoved.

I bent and held my palm up near her knee. “Give me your shoes.”

She finally looked at me.

“See.” I kicked off my shoes and rolled up my pants. “It’s nice to stand on.”

Bianca slipped off her flats and pushed them with her bare foot until they rested alongside mine.

Well, at least she was responding, but her silence was incredibly frustrating.

I took her hand and moved to the water. “Sit down.”

Bianca settled onto a large, flat rock and tucked her feet under her. Her attention stayed on the stream.

I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Bianca.” I pretended not to notice how she stiffened as I wrapped the stolen blanket around her shoulders. “Can you please talk to me?”

“I didn’t know you were from Texas.”

My heart stopped beating, and I almost fell, but I managed to catch myself just in time. I swallowed, trying to hold back my bile, as I slowly lowered myself to the stone beside her.

She watched me. “Are you?” she asked.