The Oath We Give (The Hollow Boys Book 5)

coraline

When I was a little girl, maybe eight or nine, my father and Regina took me to my first and only wedding. At the time, I didn’t understand what it all meant. All I knew was it was pretty, the historic property where the couple exchanged vows.

During the reception, while parents danced and drank the night away, leaving their children to the care of nannies and caretakers, I slipped outside and through a stone archway into the back garden, where petals from roses hung like red lanterns on black branches. Small pools of light from strategically placed torches illuminated paths winding through hedges trimmed with crystals that twinkled like stars.

It was by one of those lights that a boy named Jeremy gave me a flower.

A singular red rose that I swore to keep forever. We were little and had no idea what the world held for us. But in that moment? We knew everything. We felt everything. Tiny hearts playing tag in formal wear until we fell onto the damp grass, our heaving chests and giggles echoing into the night.

He’d looked at me before he left, holding my small hand in his, and said, “I love you.”

It hadn’t been true. We’d only just met; we didn’t know what the word meant yet, not really. We’d heard our parents say it, seen it in movies when people held hands.

But to us, in that garden, it was love.

It was enough.

It wasn’t until months later that I learned from Regina’s gossiping friends that my curse had run full circle for the very first time. Jeremy had died in a car accident with his parents after leaving that garden.

I don’t remember if I cried, only that I’d felt guilty because I hadn’t kept the rose he gave me forever like I’d told him I would.

I didn’t know it yet, but my cursed heart had already claimed two lives before I even started to believe my mother had passed something witchy down to me.

A jinx.

A hex.

That’s all I’ve been thinking about for the past twenty minutes while I stand in this hallowed courthouse bathroom, trying to tame my hair into submission, but it’s still refusing to cooperate.

I press my sweaty palms onto the sink, glancing in the mirror. The stray strands fly around my face, mocking me. The elegant bun I had in mind is pointless, not when the left side of my hair simply will not stay pinned back.

“Need some hair spray?”

I look up in the mirror, the reflection of my sister clear. She’s holding a familiar garment bag over her arm and what I think is her makeup kit in the other.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, turning around so we are facing each other. “And why do you have that?”

Her cute brown wedges click against the floor as she walks toward me, yellow sundress matching perfectly with her tanned skin, golden curls framing her face.

We could not be more different.

“Despite the sentiment of this dress, it’s too beautiful not to be worn, and I refuse to let you get married in…” She looks my simple black dress up and down with distaste. “That.”

My mother’s wedding dress.

It’s a relic for something more than me. I don’t want to dishonor her memory by wearing it for a wedding that’s only signed papers in a courthouse. It feels like I’m disrespecting her memory.

“It’s not a real wedding, kid. We don’t need a flower girl. “

There is a sigh on her lips, shoulders falling as she walks closer and lays the dress on the sink beside her makeup bag.

“He looks nervous too.” She leans against the sink next to me, smirking as she bumps me with her hip. “If that helps.”

“When did you see him?”

“Peeked into the courtroom.” Her eyes twinkle with that mischief I’ve come to know so well.

Silas is nervous?

Wait, of course he is. It’s not like he had much of a choice in the matter either.

“When did you become so nosey?” I ask, poking her shoulder with my index finger, a playful smile on my lips.

“Dude, I used to lay under your bed while you talked shit with your friends on three-way calls,” she teases back. “I’ve always been nosey. You’re just now picking up on it.”

I laugh, shaking my head at her silliness. On the darkest of days, she’s never failed to be a light at the end of the tunnel.

“He does look hot in a tux though.”

I can’t stop the blush that heats my cheeks at her words.

“Oh my God, you like him,” she gasps like she’d caught me in a lie. “You so like him!”

My eyes roll at her overreaction, trying to wipe my feelings from my face.

Attraction is not the reason I’m not singing wedding tunes and twirling my hair with joy. I know what he looks like, know there are hundreds of girls who would kill to be in my spot.

He makes me feel vulnerable. Makes me feel safe, like I can open myself up and know he wouldn’t run away scared by what’s inside.

“No I don’t,” I lie, tasting the bitterness of it on my tongue. “Besides, it doesn’t matter, Lilac. This is…it just doesn’t matter.”

A defeated sigh leaves her lips as she gives up on trying to get me excited for this moment. With nimble fingers, she reaches into her purse, plucking a silver-and-blue pin from inside. Intricately designed with tiny blue crystals and delicate silver filigree, it’s a stunning piece of jewelry.

“You need something blue.” Lilac twirls her finger, motioning for me to turn around. Deciding not to argue with her on this one, I face the mirror again.

“I know you’re scared,” she whispers, fingering through my hair and winding it together. “Pretending to know what you went through won’t make it better, and arguing for you to let me in doesn’t take it away.”

I bite the inside of my cheek as she fixes my hair, reminding me of all the times I’d done just this same thing for her. When did she grow up?

“But I think Silas could be good for you, Coraline. I think you could be good for him too. The both of you reek of sadness.”

My stomach rolls uneasily.

“You don’t know him.” I straighten my shoulders when she ties the bun behind my head. “This is to keep you safe, Lilac. It’s not about love. Not everyone dreams of that.”

“You used to,” she states, meeting my eyes in the mirror. “You used to dream of falling in love. You may not remember it, but I do. Every bedtime fairy tale, every date with Emmet. I admired the way you chased love. Now, you just block it out.”

That was before I became unworthy of it, I want to scream.

I want her to understand but don’t know how to tell her.

That there are parts of me that still live in the Sinclair basement. He took things from me I’ll never get back.

I can’t just chase love because I know how fucking bitter the aftertaste is.

Love is a weapon, and I’ve killed too many people with it already.

She’s right though. I am scared.

Terrified that a good man, a great man, like Silas is going to die because of me. There are two parts of me tearing me apart on the inside. The piece that knows how this ends and the piece that wants to be selfish.

I want to know him. To know how he struggles with things that aren’t there, how he copes with his mind constantly playing tricks on him. If they still haunt his days and nights. I want to know what scares him and if they are the same as mine.

I want him, but not more than I want him to live.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I do. The way others see you. You’re not this cold bitch, Coraline. No matter what the world tries to tell you.” Her fingers push the pin into the top of my bun, effectively keeping the strands in place. “You’re kind, and your heart was made to give. You’re fiercely protective, more afraid of hurting others than you ever are of wounding yourself. You are allowed to let love in, Cora. I’m not telling you to fall for him. I’m just asking if the opportunity presents itself, remain open to the possibility. I’m asking you to take a chance at being happy. Seeing you so sad is killing me.”

I love my sister, and when I see the subtle tears in her eyes shining from the bathroom overhead lights, it kills me. I’d do anything to secure her happiness, but I can’t lie to her.

I can’t tell her I’ll give it a shot because I can’t.

So I do the next best thing.

“Give me the stupid dress.”

Silas

“Sir.” The judge clears her throat. “If the bride isn’t here in the next ten minutes, we will have to reschedule.”

I look down the short aisle past the wooden pews. I’m not one to get anxious. Rarely, if ever, do I doubt myself. But I knew after last night’s game of hide-and-seek, the probability of Coraline being spooked was high.

Maybe it’s ignorance telling me she’ll show up anyway. That she’s too stubborn and strong-willed to back down. I know how much Lilac means to her, and Coraline knows I’ll keep my word. That if something happens to her, she’ll be taken care of.

Despite our connection, she won’t risk her sister’s safety.

If the email I received this morning from who I assume is Stephen is anything to go by, she’ll need my protection from him. It was one line, enough to let me know my little virus had fucked his entire plan.

You think I need a video to end you four? This game has only just begun.

“I need a moment,” I say to the only other person in this room, the judge sitting at the raised platform behind me.

I stride down the aisle, pressing my palms into the large doors. When they open to the main foyer, I’m met with hundreds of people bustling around the alabaster floors. Men and women in work attire, random strangers trying not to miss their court appointments.

It’s much different than the quiet room I’d just left. I reach into my pocket, fishing for my phone, prepared to call her and lure her out, but it seems I don’t have to.

Amongst the sea of faceless bodies, she descends from the sweeping grand staircase. Her hair is pulled back, exposing her sharp features. The makeup she’s wearing is different from her usual dark eyeliner. It’s softer, more neutral. Sunlight from the wall of windows touches every step she takes down the marble and granite.

Her white gown follows every curve of her body like a second skin.

I hadn’t expected her to wear a wedding dress, but now that she has, I don’t want to see her in anything else, wrapped in miles of silk fabric that I want to shred with my teeth.

“Jesus Christ,” a man passing by me mumbles, stopping to watch her.

I wonder if it’s the plunging neckline showing of her smooth skin or the delicate lace that dresses her arms that made him pause.

It would be easy to get distracted by the looks of her, but that’s not what has me so transfixed. It’s the way her head tilts up, unfazed by the eyes on her, not an ounce of anything but confidence in every step toward me.

The silk sweeps down, a pool of fabric that flows around her feet when she finally reaches me. There’s a tight smile on her lips as she picks up the dress at her waist, waving it around.

“Too much?”

Her eyes glimmer in the sunlight, like molten gold.

Melted honey in coffee. My fucking favorite.

They have warmth that could melt away worry and a sharpness that could cut through bullshit.

The eyes never lie.

She is both gentle and fierce. Honey and chestnut. Cold and hot.

A little enigma.

“Perfect.”

Pink tints her cheeks as she clears her throat, that confidence she carried just moments ago melting underneath my gaze. Like what I’m thinking makes her self-conscious.

“Ready?” I ask, reaching my hand out for her to take.

“No,” she murmurs, teeth nervously tugging at her bottom lip. “I can’t—”

One step forward, ten back, with this one.

“Coraline.” I sigh, wondering what Stephen did to her that made her this afraid of me. What her past had told her that made her so opposed to trusting others.

“No, it’s not about me.” She shakes her head, a frown between her brows. “Are you sure you want to do this? I know you’re doing it for your father, but are you sure he’d want this for you? Positive that you don’t want to hold out to marry someone you love?”

I hesitate for a moment before responding, inwardly aware of the passing seconds ticking away and knowing we need to meet with the judge soon.

Her questions hang in the air like dense fog, closing in on me. The truth is, I know my father wouldn’t want this for me. I can’t tell her that, though, because she’ll use it as an excuse to get out of this, and that’s all this is. Her wanting me to doubt this. Wanting me to tuck tail and run so she isn’t responsible for what happens after we say I do.

I spent two years on a revenge spree because it was what I wanted.

But if I’m honest with myself? I want her. I want this with her.

It’s not ideal circumstances, marrying her before we truly know one another, but I still want her. I want the two years of access to this mirage of a woman because for the first time in a long time, she makes me feel alive. There is a spark inside of me that didn’t exist before, that I never believed could.

Selfishly, I want her next two years—seven hundred and thirty days of protecting her, getting to know her habits, unraveling her mystery thread by thread.

The rest of it? Luring out Stephen, saving my family’s company? It’s all become an added benefit.

“I’m sure. You’re the only one having doubts here.” I turn slightly, reaching to grab the handle of the courtroom door. “We are going to miss our chance if—”

“Stop. Just stop for two seconds,” she hisses, grabbing the sleeve of my tux, tugging at me so I face her. “Stop pretending to have everything under control. Stop pretending this is what you want. Your father is dying, and the man who was responsible for your ex-girlfriend’s death is out to ruin your life. For two fucking seconds, stop being such a solid foundation, and show me the cracks in your sidewalk.”

I run a palm across my jawline. “What do you want me to say here to get you down the aisle, Hex?”

“The truth,” she says firmly, demanding an answer I’m not sure she’s ready for. “Calm, cool Silas and broken, messy Coraline. You’re always there, trying to be there for me, for other people. I cannot do this if I’m the only one who leans. You’ve gotta lean a little on me too.”

My teeth grind together. This is the problem with being silent—everyone assumes your feelings. They build your narrative without facts and spit it out at you like it’s truth, using context clues and bullshit to spin a web so they can understand you.

When you don’t speak, no one knows your story.

It’s a war I had to create for myself, a battle I fought for Rosemary. One I’ve been fighting for years. Letting the world tell me who I am, what I feel, and what I’ll become.

Doctors, my parents, my friends, even Rosie.

No one knows me because I never gave anyone a chance to.

“I’m months from losing the man who raised me.” I look down at her, really look at her for a moment. Her tan skin glows in the sun, full mouth set in a straight line. “I’m terrified of failing him. Scared of what life looks like without him. Afraid I won’t have enough time to learn how to successfully maintain our family company before he dies. But I have a mother and two brothers who can’t afford to see that fear.”

I step closer to her, into her space, slowly reaching up to cup her cheek in my hand. My thumb swipes just beneath her eye, and I use my fingers to tilt her neck back so she’s looking up at me.

I want her to see me so she can hear these words and know they’ve never been spoken aloud to anyone but her. That these parts of me? No one else has. No one knows.

“I’m moments from letting the guilt of what I’ve done eat me alive. I can’t sleep at night because I know the reason Stephen is trying to destroy my friends is because of me. All I think about, all I dream about, is sending a bullet through his skull and ending this forever.”

I let her see me, unmoving. I let her know that I’m not running away from this, from her.

I’m in this with her. I’m putting my trust in her too.

“I’m seconds away from kissing your fucking mouth because you look this beautiful and still feel the need to ask me if I’m sure about marrying you.” My voice is a whisper in the back of my throat.

Coraline’s features soften as my thumb traces her bottom lip. The world had scared her beyond recognition, wounded and beaten her soul. Yet, she stands here, scared she’ll hurt me.

Despite everything we’ve both been through, I need her to know I’m in this. Whatever comes next, regardless of what I mean to her, she will always have someone she could count on.

More than a voice. More than a phone number.

She will always have me.

I drop my forehead down to hers, taking a breath filled with her scent.

Her breath hitches in the back of her throat, head tilting back further as if to give me access, like she’d let me explore her mouth with my tongue right here. I dig my fingers into the back of her neck, clutching to my self-control.

“But I won’t,” I murmur, pulling back from her face, creating space between the two of us. “The first time I kiss you, Hex, is when I make you my wife.”

Coraline’s tongue traces her bottom lip, catching my thumb in the process.

“There is no one else in the world I’d rather do this with,” I say honestly. “Am I leaning enough?”

She clears her throat, nodding her head slowly as she takes a step back from my hold. Heat crawls up from her neck and tints her cheeks.

“We should…” She points toward the doors behind me. “We should probably get in there.”

My teeth pinch my bottom lip as I shake my head. This fucking girl.

Like it was her idea all along, I extend my hand, pressing the door open for her to walk through. To my surprise, we make it all the way to the end without a peep, finally standing in front of the judge.

“Glad we could all make it,” she says, readjusting her black robe and pressing her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “Are we ready to begin?”

I turn my body face-to-face with Coraline, who does the same. Once again, I reach both of my hands out. I’m going fifty, and I just need her to come the other fifty.

She takes a deep breath before slipping her hands into mine, giving a cute nod of her head.

“Great.” The judge claps her hands together, lifting up a piece of white paper and reading from it. “Coraline Whittaker and Silas Hawthorne, today you have chosen to enter into the bonds of marriage. Marriage is a commitment to life, to the best that two people can find and bring out in each other. It offers opportunities for sharing and growth that no other relationship can equal. Marriage is not just a ceremony or a piece of paper; it is a covenant between two people to love, honor, and cherish each other for the rest of their lives.”

My thumb rubs the top of her hand as if I were trying to smooth all those years of loneliness out with one simple gesture, letting her know that I’m right here, just as broken, and I’m still not going anywhere.

“Do you have vows prepared, or should I continue reading from the script?”

I flick my gaze to the judge. “Standard vows will be—”

“Actually,” Coraline interrupts, “I have something, if that’s alright.”

I furrow my brow as she pulls out a piece of yellowing paper from inside the front of her dress. The judge behind her lifted desk laughs at her hiding spot.

She clears her throat, cheeks flushed as she begins.

“Silas, I promise to be your peace when the world provides only war. To be your secret keeper and safe haven. Today, I vow to be the one person who accepts you for who you are and who you will become.” She glances up at me, holding my gaze as she speaks the last line. “Till death do us part.”

The paper looks too old to be her own. Regardless of their meaning to her, regardless if they were meant for me, they still make my chest tighten.

How long had it been since someone had been my peace? How long had I been at war with no time to rest?

“Mr. Hawthorne?” the judge says, urging me to exchange my own promises with the woman in front of me.

I watch her fold the paper and slip it back into her dress before taking my hand once again. Coraline leans in, her voice a hushed whisper.

“You can just do the regular ones. I know that wasn’t planned or anything.”

I shake my head, using my grip on her hands to tug her closer to me.

“On this day, I vow to make your rage my own, to weather the storm of your revenge and keep you forever safe. I promise to stand by you. No matter what comes, you will never be alone. Till death do us part.”

Every word is true, every promise I intend to keep. No matter what it costs me. It isn’t just me anymore in this; it’s her too.

“Coraline, do you take Silas to be your lawfully wedded husband as long as you both shall live?”

The judge’s words vibrate in the still air. Painful silence stretches before she takes a deep breath, squeezing my hands.

“I do.”

“Silas, do you take Coraline to be your lawfully wedded wife as long as you both shall live?”

The reality of this situation should be setting in, but for some reason, all I can think about is the end of this—when I get court ordered to kiss the woman in front of me, my lips skimming along hers so I can taste the sweetness of her mouth, melting away all the snarky words and smirks with my tongue.

“I do.”

“Do you have rings to exchange?”

Panic flares across Coraline’s face, but the corner of my mouth pulls up. I may not have planned for vows, but I did for this. I reach into my pocket, retrieving both rings.

I hand her mine, a simple gold band with an engraving along the inside that says #dd4a3d. My little secret, considering she doesn’t notice it as she slips it onto my finger.

Slowly, I return the favor, sliding the round solitaire diamond with a matching gold band down her finger. It’s not flashy or obnoxiously big; it’s a thing of stealthy beauty, mirroring the woman wearing it.

“By the power vested in me by the state of Oregon, I now pronounce you husband and wife.” The judge sighs, like this is her least favorite part. “You may now kiss the bride.”

Coraline’s eyes widen as my hand slips into her hair, pulling her closer. The feel of the ring wrapped around my finger is a feeling I’ll need to get used to.

“Nothing I can ever give you will resemble love, Silas.”

“Then I’ll pretend.”

Her breath hitches, but I swallow it.

My mouth presses into hers in a hungry collision. I’m not soft or gentle; patience is the last thing on my mind.

Coraline’s lips part under mine, submitting before I even make her. My fingers fist in her hair, keeping our mouths shoved together, rewarding her good behavior by tracing the inside of her mouth with my tongue.

I dip in and steal my first taste of the Witch of Ponderosa Springs. The Cursed One.

For once, this town might’ve gotten something close to right. Her mouth is a spell.

She shivers in my hold, making her grip the front of my tux with both hands. Pulling me into her, she moves her lips slowly, thoroughly over my own. When she goes up on her tippy-toes, needing the extra height to get closer to me, as if she can’t get close enough, I smirk against her mouth. My free arm winds around her waist, pressing her flat against my chest before lifting her feet off the ground.

It’s everything a first kiss should never be. It’s not sweet or good-natured. It’s not delivered with love.

A soft whimper comes from the back of her throat, making me bite down on her bottom lip so she’ll give me more of that sound. I suck it into my mouth to fill me with her flavor, that dark magic stuck deep in her veins that tastes like fucking honey and sugar in the back of my throat. Coraline’s breasts rub against my chest, making me groan. Her body begs for me, for pleasure I know I can give her.

I want to fuck my wife, right in this room, and I don’t care who watches. Let them see her spread open on one of these wooden pews. Let the world see how pliable and so fucking good she is for me, with her legs shaking as she begs me to stop making her come, only for me to keep going until she finishes twice more.

More. More. More.

It’s the witchcraft of her tongue making me crave her in unhealthy amounts.

“Excuse me.” The judge’s uncomfortable voice echoes in my ears, making Coraline remove her lips from mine immediately. “There is another couple waiting to get married today.”

For a split second, I wonder if I can get Rook to figure out a way to have this woman fired. Against my desires, I set Coraline back on her feet, watching her fiddle with her hair, straightening out her dress.

We are leaving this room as husband and wife.

I know this marriage is fake. I have gotten very good over the years at telling the difference between what is reality and what is my mind playing games.

But nothing has felt more real than that kiss.