Page 29 of Horned to be Wild
“So what’s happened? I heard about the library…”
“The library was wonderful,” she said, her lip quivering. “It was afterwards.”
“What did Torin do?” Marigold asked fiercely, and she gave the other woman a shocked look.
“What makes you think he’s involved?”
Marigold rolled her eyes. “Everyone in town seems to think he’s the mysterious wood carver. Not to mention the fact that he actually showed up long enough to take you away with him. It’s a small town, sweetie,” she added gently. “Everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
“But he doesn’t think anyone knows about his carving.”
“Well, he’s wrong. What happened?”
“Are people saying that we’ve been… seeing each other?” she asked hesitantly.
“That seems to be the consensus. And now I want to know why that makes you sad.”
“Something went wrong. Yesterday I thought he was ready to take the next step, but then he stood me up for breakfast this morning. He wouldn’t answer the door when I went to his cabin, either. I just don’t understand what’s going on.”
Marigold hummed thoughtfully.
“You know his high school sweetheart abandoned him, don’t you?”
“He mentioned it, but how did you know?”
“I’m in the weekly knitting circle. Those women know everything there is to know about this town. I’m pretty sure that at least two of them are actual witches. Anyway, they said it hurt him very badly, especially since it was only a year after he lost his father. From all accounts he wasn’t much of a father but it had just been the two of them since he was a child.”
“I didn’t realize that the two things happened so close together.”
Marigold nodded sadly. “They said he was never the same. No one’s really seen him with a woman since then. But now he’s been with you. And he’s let you see his wood carvings, which he’s been secretive about since he started.”
“Even though everyone in town seems to know about them,” she said dryly.
“Exactly. And you broke through all those walls he put up. My guess is he’s running scared. Sometimes it’s easier to run away from the chance of happiness than face the possibility of being hurt again.”
Something in the other woman’s tone made her suspect that this wasn’t just secondhand knowledge. The pain in her friend’s voice made her heart ache, but she wasn’t going to pry. Instead, she returned to the question that had been haunting her since she’d discovered the closed cabin.
“What should I do?”
“I’m not sure. But I think the first step is to decide whether you love him or not—for his sake as much as yours. If you don’t, let him be. But if you do… then perhaps you need to be the one to break down his walls before he builds them so high he’s locked away forever.”
The sky had darkened ominouslyby the time she returned home, heavy clouds rolling in from the west. She put away her groceries, attempting to channel her restless energy into cleaning, but Marigold’s words kept running through her mind.
Did she love Torin?Of course I do.She might not have admitted it to herself until now, but the truth had been there for a long time. She loved him. She loved his strength, his kindness, his gentleness, his incredible art. The way his smile softened his features. The way he was so fiercely protective of his privacy, yet opened his home to a little goat.And to me.
The truth of it settled into her bones, but what was she going to do about it? Could she find a way to reach him, to convince him that she wasn’t going to abandon him? Was her love enough to break through the walls that he’d been building for so long?
She tried to channel her confusion into painting, but her heart wasn’t in it. Every stroke felt forced, every color wrong. After ruining a third attempt, she threw down her brush in frustration.
Outside, the wind picked up, rattling her windows with growing insistence. The first fat drops of rain began to fall as dusk crept in, tapping against the roof like impatient fingers.
She curled up on her couch with a book, but ended up just staring at the page as the storm grew in intensity, rain lashing against the windows, thunder rolling across the sky. The old cottage creaked and groaned under the assault, the wind finding every gap and crack in the aging structure, and she shivered.
The cottage must have been through hundreds of storms, she told herself. There was no reason to think it wouldn’t make it through this one. Then a particularly violent gust shook the entire building. The lights flickered once, twice, and then died, plunging the cottage into darkness.
“Perfect,” she muttered, but she could hear her voice shaking. She grabbed her phone but there was no signal.Of course not. At least she could use the flashlight app to make her way back to the kitchen. She searched for candles as the storm continued to rage outside. Every flash of lightning, every rumble of thunder seemed to draw closer, until the cottage itself was trembling under the fury of the tempest. A sudden, deafening crash came from the front of the house, followed by the sound of splintering wood and shattering glass.
Heart in her throat, she rushed back to the living room. Rain and wind howled through a jagged hole where her window had been. A massive branch had punched through the glass, bringing with it a torrent of rainwater and debris. Shards of glass glittered everywhere in the light from her phone.
