8. Willow
EIGHT
Willow
I felt better.
I was treating feeling better with caution because I wasn’t sure when the last time I actually felt better was. However, I wasn’t dead on my feet like I had been when I last saw Caleb.
Caleb.
God damn that man. The man had up and left.
Or that’s what I assumed had happened because no one had seen him for days. He’d been here longer than I thought he would stay, and now that he was gone, I felt…bereft.
“This won’t do at all,” I scolded myself. “He was just a guy. He wasn’t even a nice guy.” I nodded to myself at the reminder that he was a colossal dick. “A dick who broke into your home.”
Lily was out of town for the weekend. One of her college friends was getting married, and she was excited to be attending the wedding. Lily, the hopeless romantic that she was, was convinced her future hubby was to be met at a wedding. I told her that as long as it wasn’t the groom, then there was no harm in dreaming .
Ha. Says the woman who had dreamt of Caleb every night since I saw him last. I didn’t remember the dreams, but I couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding when I woke up. It was almost as if something had happened to him, but I still had the sense that he was okay.
Safe.
Why would he not be safe? Shaking my head at my nonsense, I focused on packaging an order. I’d sold that painting to Caleb, and now, not even a week later, I’d made another sale. The painting that had sold was actually one of my favorites. Another meadow, covered in wildflowers located high on a mountain. The peak cast a shadow over the meadow but not in an opposing way. It gave a gentler impression, as if it was cradling the meadow, keeping it safe. There was that word again… safe .
I’d painted this on canvas, so it was easier to box and package. I just liked to take better care of my products than I probably should.
As I worked, my attention wandered too often to the bench across the street or the café I’d seen him come out of a few times.
The door opened and two men walked into my store. One was big, as big as Caleb, but older. The other was slight in stature, but there was an air about him that made me nervous. Warm smiles greeted me, and any feeling of unease I had quieted.
“Welcome.” I smiled back at them, Caleb’s nagging voice in the back of my head reminding me that I had poor sales skills.
“Afternoon,” the older man spoke to me. “It’s cooling down. ”
I was already nodding in agreement. “Thankfully! I’m ready for autumn.” The smaller man watched me for a moment and then started studying my artwork. “I’m Willow,” I told them, waving my hand at the wall behind me. “Look around. If I can tell you anything about a piece, just ask.”
“You did them all.”
It wasn’t a question; it was as if he already knew. “Not all, most.” I pointed at Lily’s misshapen vase. “There are other local artists that display here for either attention or sale. Except that, that’s one of a kind and not for sale.”
The larger man’s answer was too low for me to hear, but judging by the way the smaller guy covered his mouth, I think I was better off not hearing it.
I moved my position so I could watch them as I finished the packaging. I wasn’t a jumpy woman. Men didn’t make me nervous usually, but there was an air about these two. Even the scrawnier man set my teeth on edge. I didn’t want to have my back to them, which surprised me. I wasn’t usually this way.
They spoke so quietly to each other that I couldn’t hear them. They studied each painting and drawing like it was worthy to be hung in the Louvre. I liked what I created, but even so, to have that level of intensity while my art was being scrutinized was making me feel awkward and nervous, so when the big guy turned to me and told me they would take six of my paintings, my jaw was on the floor.
“Pardon?”
The smaller one looked me over as he came closer. “You don’t sell them?”
“What?” I was standing with packing tape in my hands. Quite clearly having sold something. “Of course I do. ”
“Great.” He smiled like he had when he came in. “How much?”
“Um.” Caleb was right, I was a bad salesperson. His reminder gave me the boot I needed to remember this was my store, my art, my job, and my livelihood. “Show me which ones again.”
Five minutes later, I was being handed more cash than I was used to holding at any one time.
“How long have you lived here?”
“A few years,” I answered. The big guy was called Royce, and the other man, I had learned, was Mal. He watched me too intensely to be considered polite, but the other man made up for his weirdness, so I concentrated on Royce.
“What made you move here?” Mal asked. “Scenery? Hiking?”
I laughed. “I don’t hike.”
“Why?”
“There could be bears.” I hoped my playful tone would make them stop asking questions. “Or wolves.” Their attention seemed to sharpen, and I had no idea why I thought that, but they were both just…more. Clearing my throat, I forced myself to remain positive. I had just sold six pieces after all. “I really appreciate your business,” I said with complete honesty. “You sure you want to take them all today? I can easily ship them if you need.”
Royce shook his head. “Nah, it’s fine. We have the truck.”
“Right.” I watched as he picked up three of the pieces easily off the counter. Mal held the door open for him, but my gut twisted in anticipation when he didn’t follow his partner out the door. Mal walked back to the counter and didn’t even pretend to pick anything up.
“I’m a doctor.”
That, I hadn’t been expecting, and I knew I hadn’t hidden my surprise very well. “Ah.” Not much else you can say to that.
“I’m telling you because it makes what I say next less creepy.” He grinned, and I had a feeling that this was the first time he had been genuine with me. “Your skin is clammy, your coloring is off. The darkness under your eyes tells me you don’t sleep well.”
“And I thought I looked quite good today.” My sass made him smile wider.
“What is it?” His head tilted. “Fibro? Lupus?”
“Nothing as sinister as that. I have ME.” I felt the usual discomfort when I spoke about my illness.
“You moved here for a better quality of life.” Wisdom and understanding were evident now that I was looking at him. Really looking at him, taking him in. He hadn’t been getting ready to dissect me and eat my liver with a nice chianti; he was a doctor analyzing a patient.
Wait…wasn’t Hannibal a doctor?
“I mean you no harm.”
Brilliant, he was also a mind reader.
“Pretty sure that’s the line every killer tells their victim right before they kill them.” I’d meant it as a joke, but the flat way in which I said it made us both falter.
Royce walked back into the store, and his sure step slowed as he picked up the tension between us. “You two okay?”
“Yup.” I was relieved he was back. “Mal was just telling me he’s a doctor.” I didn’t miss the sharp look Royce gave his companion.
“Was he? That’s interesting.” Funny, Royce didn’t seem to think it was interesting at all. He picked up the other three pieces. “We got everything?”
“Yeah.” Mal was looking around the room, distracted, and missed the other man’s frown. His gaze fell on me once more. “Keep hydrated,” he told me. “Your sleep pattern has been disturbed. Fix that.” Like it was that easy. “More veg, less candy.” He nodded toward the open counter door where a solitary candy bar lay. “Three meals a day, less snacks.”
Jesus.
“I know how to look after myself.” Why did I sound so defensive?
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “Then why are you so fatigued?”
“I have ME.”
“You have an illness that is controllable. Using it as a crutch only makes you weaker.” His simple head nod on the way out floored me as much as his harsh words had.
“He forgets himself sometimes,” Royce told me apologetically. “Thank you for these. Bye.”
The door closed quietly behind them, and they left me wondering what the hell had just happened.
“Strangest two weeks of my life,” I muttered, starting to clean up.
It was mid-afternoon, the sun was shining, and whether I’d wanted it or not, I took the doctor’s advice and closed the store early. The walk home was sluggish but enjoyable. My step slowed as I neared my house .
“Should I be surprised you’re on my front step?” I asked Caleb as I walked up the path.
“You’re home early. Going anywhere?”
I ignored him as I opened the door. I didn’t bother telling him he couldn’t come in. I wasn’t sure I could keep him out, and despite his obvious dislike of me, I didn’t feel unsafe around him.
I didn’t feel safe either, but I was curious about where he had been.
“No, I just decided to come home.”
“Sick?”
Repressing the sigh, I shook my head. “I am perfectly fine.” I recalled what the doctor had said. “Apart from being clammy, having a poor diet and I don’t sleep enough.”
Caleb looked me over slowly, and my heart rate picked up despite my brain screaming not to be affected by him. “You look okay to me.”
Okay. I looked okay . It’s what every woman craved to hear. How do I look? Okay. Ugh. Kill me now.
“Thanks,” I snapped, and I saw him frown. “Why are you here? To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Have you painted me this week?”
This day was just full of surprises. “Wow. Now you just come out and ask?”
He was still frowning. “Why would I not?”
Excellent question. “It’s personal.”
“Yes. To me.”
He had a point, but that wasn’t the point. “Don’t you think it’s not personal to me?” Stuff the doctor, I needed chocolate. I reached into the cupboard for the emergency candy bar and found it missing. Damn it, Alistair . Fighting back the scream of frustration, I turned to face him. “And no. I haven’t.”
“Show me.”
I gaped. He looked unfazed. “No!”
He rolled his eyes and then went and looked anyway. “Caleb!” Hurrying after him, I tried to stop him at the door to the studio, but he merely swatted my hand away like I was an annoyance.
On my easel sat the sketch pad, and on the open page sat a picture of Caleb crouched over a fire. He appeared to be naked. The accusatory look he shot my way made me look away. But if anyone had the right to be angry, it was me.
“You burned it.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Isn’t it?” We were in a proper stare-off. “You bought it. You burned it. Why?”
“Changed my mind, the composition was off.”
“Liar.”
He shrugged, moving to the wall and flicking through canvases. “Anything else?”
“No.”
Caleb smirked. Walking past me, he entered my bedroom. “Right.”
I wasn’t even fighting. He was taking over. This was my home, so why wasn’t I fighting? Because I was exhausted. Slowly I followed him, and in my room, I lowered myself to my bed.
“What is it?” he asked, flipping through my notebook, looking at all my recent drawings of him like the narcissist he was .
“You.” Closing my eyes, I rubbed my temples. “You’re exhausting.”
“You were fine when you came home.”
When I opened my eyes, he was crouched in front of me. “Why did you burn it?” Sure, I hadn’t liked the creepy wolf either, but there was no need to damage it.
He didn’t answer as he watched me carefully. Concern gave way to the hardness I expected of him, and I wasn’t surprised when he stood. Disappointed, but not surprised. “I drain you.”
“No. It’s my ill?—”
“No. It’s me.”
Looking up at him, I saw how much he believed it. “Caleb…” As I reached out to take his hand, he stepped back. The sting of rejection pierced my heart.
“I make you ill.” He sounded bitter, and I didn’t understand it at all. “How long has it been since your ME left you this wasted?”
“I’m always like this,” I started to tell him, but as I spoke, I realized I was wrong. I had been worse since I met him. Since I started drawing him. When he saw that I’d reached the same conclusion, he gave a derisive snort. “What does this mean?”
“It means they were right.”
“Who were?”
“The alpha. The others.” His sneer was ugly, and I didn’t like how angry he was.
My head was reeling. My body was craving energy that I could only give it with sleep. “Alpha? Others? What are you talking about?”
“Look at you.” He sounded disgusted, but something deep inside me knew it wasn’t at me. “You’re so drained. I can see how much I affect you.” Strong arms lifted me, and I was placed further up the bed. “Rest. We’ll talk when you wake.”
I hadn’t been tired. I had been good . I had been fine. But the two men from earlier and then Caleb, and I could barely open my eyes.
“They’re like you…”
I heard him curse and then mutter something that sounded a lot like he was accusing them of not waiting. Waiting for what, he never said. I knew when he left the room because my energy leveled out, and while I was still so tired, I wanted answers.
I could get up and demand them. I could. I really, really could, but I wanted to sleep. Caleb wouldn’t leave, not when I was like this and he blamed himself. He had stayed before, and he would stay again.
When I woke up, he was in the backyard, sitting on the lowest step, watching the tree line. “Better?”
“I have so many questions.”
“I don’t have answers.”
Lowering myself carefully, I joined him on the step. “You must have some.”
Caleb rubbed his forehead, finally turning to look at me. “Trust me when I say that I have no answers as to why you were drawing me before you met me or why being in my presence makes you weaker.” He looked back towards the trees. “If I knew the answer to any of this, I would be a happy man.”
“That must be nice to see.” He threw me a look and I smiled. “Where have you been?”
“I was trying to find answers.”
“Did you find any?”
“No.”
“Maybe you weren’t asking the right questions.”
“Okay, let’s see if you can help me out. How long have you been psychic?”
I laughed. He didn’t. I stopped laughing as he waited for an answer. “You’re serious?”
“You see me when you sleep. Right?” I nodded. “You’re either a psychic or a witch.”
My elbow dug into his side, hitting solid muscle, and he didn’t move an inch. “I’m not a witch!”
“I don’t think so either,” he mused. “Which brings me back to psychic. Or prophet?” His look was assessing. “No, not prophet, Luna doesn’t need them.”
“Who’s Luna?”
“My Goddess.”
Whoa, I was not expecting him to be religious. “I think that’s blasphemy.”
Caleb’s lips twitched. “Not to me, it isn’t. You keep your God, I’ll keep mine.”
“Are you a monk?”
His burst of surprised laughter made me smile. I didn’t think he had laughed since I met him. “I’m no monk.”
Yeah, he was too… manly to be celibate. “Minister?”
He frowned. “Is that the same thing?”
“I think they can get married.”
“Huh. No, I’m not that either. I’m just a man.”
Turning on the step, I faced him, looking at him so closely I was bordering on invading his personal space, before I drew back, putting some space between us. “And yet again, you lie.”