Page 64 of A Curse On Black Lake
After dinner, Killian finishes the dishes, and we find ourselves in the living room. I laugh at myself because now I don’t want him to go.
Killian flips throughWuthering Heightsand snaps it closed. Grams finished it not long before she died.
“Do you mind if I borrow this?” he asks.
“Sure,” I sigh and pick up one of my own.Jane Eyre, it was one of Grams’s favorites. I’ve never read it, but I’m still grasping at ways to be close to her, so I picked it up.
“What are you reading?” he asks.
“Jane Eyre.”
He hums. “I liked that, well written. Then again, it’s a classic. It was compelling, though.”
“You read a lot, don’t you?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “I do because there’s not much else to do before bed. It’s not like our three channels in this town work well. I don’t remember the last time I turned the TV on.”
I glance at my own box television. There are a few people who have the flat screens now. I don’t know why. I guess it’s an excuse to see the snow on the TV better. Or maybe they use them for DVDs
“I don’t either.”
“Welp, I’m going to head out. Early start. I’ll be here in the morning,” he says
I stand with him, following him to the front door.
He reaches for the knob and stops.
My heart leaps out of my fragile chest, and I find a little bit of hope there. Maybe he will force me over the boundary between us, and I’ll let him because a part of me wants him to. Regardless of the real consequences. But then again, I’m not sure I’m not prepared to dance over that line. Not yet.
“Thank you for dinner. Are you sure you’re okay?” he asks.
“Why do you ask?”
“You’ve had a rough day,” he says.
I hug myself and study my bare feet. “I’ve had a lot of rough days, cowboy, what’s one more?” I ask him.
His booted feet shift in front of me, and I look up. His coffee-colored eyes stare back, and I see so many things in them. I want to ask him what he’sreallythinking.
Be honest with him. You are allowed to do that. You can trust him.The Spirits say.
I ignore them, unable to move from my spot.
“Call me if you need anything,” he rasps.
My fingers tingle, grateful that he cares even if I’m still a stranger to him for the most part.
You are no stranger, child. His soul knows yours as if they were born together.
Stop listening to my thoughts.I grit out to them.
You’re the one who let it through. But the truth still stands.
I mentally roll my eyes and nod to Killian. He walks down the front sidewalk and hops into his truck.
When I can’t see him anymore, I close the door and lock it behind me. Being honest with Killian about my growing feelings will make this harder. My boundaries need to remain firmly in place despite his vines crawling over the thick walls of my being. I can barely get up every day.
Grief and romance don’t mix. Nor should they.
