Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
His tone is so harsh, I’m taken aback. It’s like he’s never met me before, like I’m a devil slinking onto hallowed ground intent on deconsecrating the building.
Glancing at the shadowy stairs, I say carefully, “I guess I’m investigating.”
“Investigating what?”
“My mother died here.”
“I know.”
“Do you know what happened?”
We stare at each other across the space, our gazes locked, neither of us willing to blink first. His eyes hold a blizzard of unspoken thoughts. I’ve never seen him this tense or acting this strangely. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot, and every so often, his left hand twitches.
Instead of answering my question, he deflects.
“You shouldn’t be here. You should go home now. Go home and don’t come back.”
“Why shouldn’t I be here?”
He wordlessly shakes his head.
“I take it you won’t give me a straight answer.”
Another headshake.
I wish that didn’t hurt, but it does. “Then I guess since you asked me why I’m here, I’ll ask you why you’re here.”
“I’m on my family’s property.”
“In the middle of the workweek. During business hours.”
“So?”
“So why aren’t you in Boston running your evil empire?”
He takes a moment to look me hungrily up and down and exhale before answering.
“I took the day off.”
“To visit a crumbling old church in the woods? Why would you take the day off for that?”
“I took the rest of the week off, too. I have business out of town. I needed to visit my father before I left, but then I saw you through the window of the house so I came out to see what you were doing.”
His father’s house is a five-minute walk from the church down an unpaved dirt road with forest surrounding it on both sides. He couldn’t have seen me from there, especially since I’m pretty sure he was in the basement of this church when I came in.
“I don’t believe you.”
He drags his hands through his hair, then turns and paces away a few steps. He turns back to stare at me, his jaw hard and his eyes fathomless.
“You need to go home now.”
“Why? Got a hot date? Is Wonder Woman gonna show up in her invisible jet any minute now?”
His eyes flare with anger, but he keeps his voice controlled. “Listen to what I’m saying. Go. Home.”
“Or what? You’ll call the police and have me arrested for trespassing?”
He closes his eyes, grinds his molars, and draws a slow, aggravated breath. “Goddammit, Maven. This isn’t the time for your smart mouth. Just leave.”
Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “Let’s just cut the crap and get into it. My mother fell off the roof of this church.” With emphasis, I add, “Or she was pushed.”
Frustrated, he snaps, “My father didn’t push her. He never would have hurt her.”
He’s so emphatic about that, it makes me suspicious. “How do you know?”
There’s a long, uncomfortable pause before he glances away. “I just know. That’s it. You need to leave now.”
When I only stand there staring at him in narrow-eyed silence, he insists, “Now.”
“Why is it so important that I leave?” I glance at the shadowy stairs. “Something here you don’t want me to see?”
He sees me looking at the stairs, and his expression darkens.
I will myself to stand my ground as he slowly approaches.
When he’s only a few feet away, he stops and takes a leisurely and meticulous inventory of my body.
His gaze snags on my crotch before moving up to my breasts where it stalls again.
Then he looks at my mouth and closes his eyes as if he wishes he couldn’t see me.
His voice throaty, he says, “Go now, Maven. For once in your life, please just fucking listen to me.”
“Why should I? Tell me, Ronan. Why should I listen to you? My ears are wide open.”
He mutters an oath. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe people have your best interests at heart when they tell you something you don’t want to hear?”
“Not if those people are you.”
He takes a moment to breathe and try to calm down. I can see how agitated he is, how much he wants me to obey his order to get out, but I can also see that he’s fighting not to come closer.
He’s in a tug-of-war with himself. I’m not sure which side is losing or what they’re battling for.
“Please. I need you to trust me.”
“That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in years. I think I hear your buxom girlfriend calling.”
His jaw works. He’s restraining himself from saying something, something it appears he really wants to say but doesn’t.
It’s probably an insult about my outfit. Or my hair. Or all the other things he finds lacking in me.
I stare at him, my heart pounding and my lungs constricted, feeling like my seventeen-year-old self again, coming apart at the seams with the weight of this terrible, unbearable love.
So he won’t see the pain etched on my face, I turn and walk out.
My chest aching, I return through the forest the way I came, telling myself the water swimming in my eyes is from the wind.
Except there isn’t any.
Suddenly, an agonized scream rings out in the distance behind me. When I spin around, there’s no one there. But the sound echoes on, a primal howl of anguish that sifts down through the pine branches and slices my soul like a sword.
I stand frozen for a moment, listening until the awful, unearthly cry finally fades and the forest settles into eerie silence.