Page 60 of Courage, Dear Heart

“You can check it out but be careful. No leaning over the railing, okay?”

Elliott comes in with my suitcase. “I’ll put it here.” And sets it atop a bench at the foot of the bed.

Grace claps her hands to her chest. “I hope everyone is hungry. Dinner should be ready in thirty minutes. Jillian, make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything. Or you can ask Elliott. His room is the one across the hall.” She smiles.

I avoid looking at Elliott. “Thank you, Grace.”

“And you kids have the whole upstairs for yourselves. My old knees don’t like the stairs. My room is on the first floor. So don’t worry about watching TV late or making noise. The walls are thick, and I sleep like a log.” She winks at me.

Oh. My. God.

THIRTY

Jillian

Sinkinginto the bed with Jamie next to me, his soft breathing like a lullaby, I play the events of the day in my mind. I had fun; I enjoyed myself and for the first time in years, that voice that whispers hurtful things in my mind is quiet. In its place, there’s a sense of contentment taking residence in my chest. Making a nest—building it with little moments of joy, laughter, and hope—fragile and tentative, but there.

I slide out of bed, quiet in the darkened room, and tiptoe to the doors leading to the balcony. I slide one of the doors open and step outside. The inky sky is so filled with stars it feels like I can reach up and touch them. The sweet scent of honeysuckle is heavy in the cool breeze. Soft light spills onto the garden from solar lights placed between the flower beds and along the path leading from the front gate to the house. The outline of a barn blends into the night several hundred feet away. The sounds of the woods around and lapping water are like a balm for thesoul.

I take a seat in the lounge. Find a folded blanket over the edge and pull it over my legs.

More than beautiful, this place is healing.

There’s something calming about this house, something that takes me away from all my problems and worries. Maybe it’s because it’s so different from what I know back home. Here, nothing is expected of me. I’m not thinking of what I have to do next, which bills to pay, the cost of Jamie’s therapy, or how to hold everything together. Here, I can just be. Is this what freedom feels like? I close my eyes and breathe in the peacefulness of the night.

The sound of footsteps on gravel comes from below and I peer through the plexiglass that makes the half-wall around the balcony. I search the darkness and find the silhouette of a man. Elliott is walking up the path with a large dog at his side. There’s enough light for me to know it’s him—his presence is unmistakable even in this dimness. I can’t see his expression, but something about the way his shoulders drop and the slowness of his steps calls to me. There’s an air of tiredness around him as he moves forward slowly as if he’s carrying some unseen burden with him.

I stay silent and wait until he disappears under the balcony. The sound of a door opening and closing follows. I wait another minute, then go back inside my room. Jamie’s small form is motionless under the covers. I debate what to do, and curiosity wins. I tiptoe to the bedroom door and open the door slowly. Elliott halts a few feet away. The tracking light in the hallway casts golden highlights on his hair. He’s wearing pajama pants that hang low on his hips and a well-loved and too small Cornell University T-shirt. The fabric, soft and thin from many washes, stretches overhis broad shoulders. A few inches of tanned skin over taut stomach muscles peek between the pajama pants band and the T-shirt hem.

I become starkly aware of my own clothes. Or lack of them. The T-shirt I’m wearing stops a few inches above my knees. It covers everything that needs covering, but the way he’s looking at me makes me feel like I’m wearing some sexy little outfit from a fancy lingerie store.

Gosh. What was I thinking? Why did I even come out here? Because he looked like he needed company, that’s why.He did, or you did?

I swallow. “Hi.”

“Hi.”

More silence. Neither of us makes a move.

Universes are created in the span of time and space between us. I try again. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. You?”

“I was sitting on the balcony, watching the stars, and I saw you. And what I think might have been a dire wolf.” I try making a joke. Anything to distract me from the need to get closer to him.

He smiles, a corner of his lips ticking higher than the other. A dimple appears. So much for distraction. “Is that a reference toA Song of Ice and Fire?”

I cross my arms over my chest and his gaze drops to my thighs for a fraction of a second, then to my chest and back to my face. And too late I realize that my new position shortened the T-shirt, revealing more of my legs and at the same time tightening it across my breasts. His gaze heats and my mouth goes dry. I lick my lips and he takes a step closer.

I want to run, but I don’t know in which direction.Toward him or behind the safety of the door at my back. “Yes, I loved the books. A little mad that I’ve been waiting for the rest of the series for over ten years now.”

Another step closer. “That makes two of us, then. And not a dire wolf. That was Nero. He’s a Great Pyrenees. He’s a livestock guard dog and prefers to spend time in the barn and around the horses. I brought him some treats.”

I smile. “That was nice of you.”

Elliott shrugs. “I needed the walk—the treats are a good excuse.”

I was right then. Something is bothering him. “Is everything okay?”

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