Under_The_Whispering_Door_by_TJ_Klune

CHAPTER
16
“Are you sure about this?” Wallace muttered, eyeing Alan warily. It was the
third day with their new guest, and Wallace still wasn’t sure what to make of
him. Ever since Nelson had laid him out on his back, he’d … well, not
changed, not exactly. He’d taken to watching their every movement, and
though he didn’t ask many questions, Wallace had the feeling he was taking it
all in, not quite a cornered animal waiting to strike, but close. It certainly
didn’t help that he never looked away from Wallace when he started taking
down the chairs each morning, getting the tea shop ready for yet another day.
Every time Wallace grabbed hold of a different chair, he could feel Alan’s
gaze on him. It made his skin crawl.
“I can’t imagine what it’s like for him,” Nelson said, voice low in case
Alan was trying to listen in. “I know he’s a little rough around the edges—”
“It’s okay to be hyperbolic. Really. I swear. Don’t hold back.”
“—but murder victims have a harder time understanding that the life they
knew is over.” Nelson shook his head. “He died not because of his own
choice, or because his body gave out on him, but because someone else took
his life from him. It’s a violation. We have to tread carefully, Hugo more than
the rest of us.”
Wallace was uneasy as he set down the last chair, hearing Mei singing in
the kitchen at the top of her lungs. He glanced through the porthole windows
and caught a glimpse of Hugo moving back and forth. They hadn’t had the
chance to talk more since their last night on the deck, though Wallace wasn’t
sure what more could be said. Hugo needed to put his focus on Alan, and
Wallace was dead. Nothing was going to change that. It was ridiculous to
think otherwise, or so that’s what Wallace told himself. Declarations were
meaningless in the face of life and death.