Page 88 of A Curse On Black Lake
She puffs out a breath. “He basically asked me the same questions from the first time, but then he kept asking aboutus.”
“What did you say?” My stomach churns again.
“He asked how long we’ve been a thing. I didn’t give him a straight answer, though I hinted it was a while, and my answer seemed to bother him. Maybe it’s because he’s family and didn’t know.”
I huff. “I wouldn’t have told him even if it were true. My business is no one else’s.”
“That’s what I said.” She purses her lips.
“Did he make you uncomfortable?” I ask her because if he did I will hop in the truck now, and go beat his face in. No excuses. He knows better. We were raised better.
“It’s not because it made me uncomfortable. It’s because it gave me a gross feeling, like he was hoping I’d slip up. I think he was looking for a way to discredit your alibi.”
“Do you think he can?” I ask her, tensing for the answer.
“No, of course not. I told him we were basically in love. But it confirms that he’s fishing.” She stares at her feet and I fist my hands, digging my nails into my palm. Does she think Wyatt could be right about me?
“I know the newspaper was bullshit, but you don’t think I—”
“What? Oh Lord no, never. I know you would never do that. I’m …I’m scared of other things, but definitely not you,” she whispers.
My shoulders sag in relief. “Did the Spirits say anything about this?”
“They told me to be careful. But that’s all I know. Are you mad? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you.”
I shake my head and almost reach to tuck some of her hair behind her ear. “No, I’m not mad. I wish you had told me sooner, but…”
A large gust of wind rattles through the house. It’s going to be a nasty one.
“I’m glad we put the goats in the barn,” she says.
Okay then.
“I’m going to bed,” she says, already making her way upstairs.
I was going to say; I wish I knew what Wyatt was up to, and mention that he could be responsible for all of this, but I keep coming back to one thing — motivation. And I don’t have it.
Grabbing a glass of water before I head upstairs, I spot Eliana’s sketchbook sitting on the coffee table with the pencil between the pages. She’s already upstairs. I can hear her walking around. My finger slides between the pages, and I flip the cover open to stare at myself. It’s a rough sketch, but its rugged style is beautiful to me. It’s not delicately detailed, it’s like she did it as fast as she could, only including the finer details she felt important, like my eyes, and the set of my mouth.
I might be jumping the gun, but this confirms what she’s feeling too. There is something there, but both of us are hesitant to pursue it. I understand why, and I can’t disagree with it, but the more that happens, and the closer we get to each other, the more I believe we’re inescapable. It doesn’t matter how much we refuse and fight ourselves. It’s nothing we can change because it’s already written in stone.
Chapter thirty-one
Eliana
Wakeup!
Wake up!
My eyes spring open, and a bolt of thunder makes the house shake. Adrenaline shoots through me, and a nauseating dread fills my throat.
“What is it?” I ask the Spirits.
“No! Get off!” I hear Killian yell.
They don’t answer.
I leap out of bed and run to his room, throwing the door open, to find him thrashing in his sheets. His bare torso almost glistens beneath the rapid flashes of lightning.
