Voices in the Snow (Black Winter, #1)

by Darcy Coates

She thought she was starting to understand Dorran. He wasn’t strange in a bad way. He was just stilted and uncertain. He buried his discomfort under formality. And he was sad. That was what bothered her the most. He tried to hide it, but it slipped out occasionally, hidden in his expressions and movements. The tilt of his eyes. The way his smiles never seemed truly uninhibited. How methodical he made every motion. It seemed as though all of the life had been crushed out of him somehow.

His head dropped, and he spoke so softly that she wasn’t sure she was supposed to hear. “How can I make this better? How can I help you?”

UGH

He’s not used to being looked after. His whole life has been spent trying to appear stronger than he actually is.

“You were sick. You ate something bad.” Even breathing felt like an effort. “Bad? The soup? It tasted fine.” “No, Clare. Not the soup.” His fingers rubbed over hers. “Cyanide.” “Oh.” She knew he was telling her something important, something that should mean a lot more to her, but she just couldn’t muster the energy to be upset. “That sucks.”

She loved listening to him read. He had a good voice. It was deep and full of conviction. Sometimes she let the plot threads escape her and just listened to the way he pronounced each word.

“Good people can make a bad situation bearable,”

And he was kind, not in the way that expected anything in return and not that he was even trying to be kind. He just was.

In love