rate. She held the broken pieces of plate in her hands before braving a glance at Nate, and finding him looking straight back at her. His blue eyes icy as he stared.
“Sarah.” He stated her name, like he wanted to say something else but couldn’t figure out what or how to go about it.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Sarah’s question came out as a whisper.
“Now?”
She nodded. Nate plopped the cake on the remainder of the plate he held and offered her his arm, careful to keep his sticky cake fingers away from her. Sarah accepted his help but didn’t look him in the eye again. Didn’t connect with him or touch him in any other way, because she was starting to feel so out of her depths, so weak, that she was terrified.
They both rinsed and dried their hands in silence.
“Jess, we’re going for a walk,” Nate told his sister, calling out but not moving. “Be back soon.”
Sarah followed his lead, heading out the back door. And when his fingers brushed hers, the most gentle of touches as they walked together, hands hanging at their sides, she didn’t pull away. They curled against her own, fingers so close to interlinking they were halfway to holding hands, before the moment was over and she was left with a shiver crossing her shoulders as the wind touched her bare skin instead.
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