Emma
The SUV emerged from the tunnel into the evening traffic. Above us, colors filled the sky as the setting sun sent its last rays of the daylight up toward the low-lying clouds, turning the normally cobalt blue to a spectrum of crimsons. My stomach twisted as knots formed on knots, a gaggle of nerves.
I’d imagined that it would be freeing to leave the mansion. Ever since Rett’s promise last night of a tour, thoughts of New Orleans swirled throughout my mind. I’d truly only seen a very small bit of the city the day I arrived with Ross. As we were driven north on St. Charles Avenue, I couldn’t ward off the uncertainty.
After so long within the protective walls, I had the sensation of a butterfly emerging from the safety of the cocoon. My wings wanted to stretch, yet I was unsure.
What if they wouldn’t carry me?
What if I fell?
Rett reached across the seat and gently covered my hand. “You’re shaking.”