Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
The cool breeze chilled my ears. I glanced at the leaves blowing off the pile I’d made and debated getting a hat.
“Here.”
The rake slipped from my hands. I caught it with too much force and would have hit myself in the face with it if Sam hadn't stopped me. The back of his hand brushed my cheek before he pried the rake from my grasp.
“Raking seems to be a dangerous chore for you,” he said. “Would you mind if I took over? For safety reasons?”
I laughed and shook my head.
He traded the book he was holding for the rake. Mesmerized by the way his shirt pulled tight over his back as he gathered leaves, I stood and stared. Maybe drooled a little too.
“You were right about being pulled in,” he said as he gathered leaves.
“Huh?”
The corners of his mouth lifted briefly. “The book.”
“Oh. Did you like it?”
“I did. What did you think of the female lead?”
I followed him around the yard, discussing the book with him.
We debated the wisdom of the female lead in falling for a guy with obviously questionable motives.
Then we picked apart the guy’s reasons for approaching her as he had, instead of just saying he was a werewolf and had fallen in love with her at first sight.
“You have to admit, it would sound a bit insane,” I said, thinking of Mom.
“You don’t believe in love at first sight?”
“Attraction at first sight? Yes. Love isn’t something that’s felt from the start.
That grows over time. But I wasn’t talking about that.
I meant the male lead telling the female lead that he’s a werewolf.
I haven’t read many werewolf romances, but in the other fiction books I’ve read, it never goes well when the female lead discovers the male lead isn’t human. ”
“Why not?”
I put the book down and held the leaf composting bag open for him.
“Usually because of disbelief, fear, and a rushed confession.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, he sees her, wants her, then approaches her in ways that are a little aggressive. Showing up at her work without any valid reason to be there other than he just happened to be passing by. Buying her gifts she didn’t ask for.
Trying to force her to spend time with him.
Generally, doing things that push her to the edge of her comfort zone so she never really lets her guard down enough to get to know him, which makes it a lot harder for her to accept the truth when he reveals it. ”
He filled the bag and folded the ends together. “I see your point. But isn’t telling the truth part of getting to know him and building trust? If he keeps it from her until he’s sure she’s comfortable with him, wouldn’t she see that omission as a lie later?”
“Hmm. I see your point, too. This requires more research. Do you want to go to the library later and grab a few more books?”
His smile was devastatingly handsome. Why couldn’t he be straight?
“We can go now.”
“I have more chores yet and need to ask my mom.”
“Okay.” He leaned the bag against the shrubs. “Come over whenever you’re ready.”
“Deal.” Excited, I hurried back inside.
Mom was standing in the living room, in front of the curtained windows, her arms crossed. Her expression said she knew exactly what I was going to ask. We stared at each other for several seconds.
I broke the silence first. “Well?”
“That’s my line.”
“Just ask whatever you want to ask already. Although I’m sure you heard almost everything. These windows aren’t that soundproofed.”
“Reading romance books doesn’t make him gay,” she said.
“You’re right. Liking men would make him gay. Assuming his preference based on his interest in a book with a hot man on the cover was rude. I’ll go ask about his sexual orientation. Blunt questions go over well for straight and gay people alike.”
“Okay. Go. Ask.”
Damn. She’d called my bluff.
“Do you have Grandma’s number? I think I’ll ask about her house rules first.”
She rattled off a number.
I walked to my room for my reader and made the call.
A woman answered, “Hello?”
“Hi. This is Clarity Carstein. Is this Emily Protsad?”
“Clarity. I’m so glad you called,” she said, sounding excited…and nice. “Your mom mentioned you didn’t like the school there and were thinking of finishing somewhere else.”
“It’s not just here. I don’t like in-person school in general.
I asked about homeschooling, but she’s not a fan of me spending the day home alone while she’s at work.
Then she thought of you. You wouldn’t need to do much, and it won’t take me long to complete the course.
It would be four weeks, tops, that I’d need to impose. ”
“It wouldn’t be an imposition at all. I’d love to have you for as long as you’d like.”
“What rules would you have for me while I’m there?”
“Rules?”
“Yeah. Would I need a job to buy my own food while I’m there? A curfew so I don’t disrupt your routine? Chores on certain days?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. I’m fine with you coming and going as you please. Maybe just let me know where you’re going and when to expect you back so I don’t worry. And you don’t have to worry about a job or food while you’re studying. Do you have to worry about that now?”
“No job. Healthy food only. No overeating allowed. Chores and permissive outings only to prevent unwanted pregnancy.”
“Clarity Marie!” Mom came into my room. “Emily, I’ll call you back in a few minutes.”
She grabbed my reader and disconnected the call. I wasn’t mad or surprised she’d been listening in.
“It won’t take me long to pack,” I said. “When’s the next bus out?”
“This isn’t you. What is going on? When did you become this confrontational?”
“When I realized something was seriously wrong with my mom. Watching what I eat because you’re worried about weight-related health risks, I can understand because of Aunt Shelly.
Telling me I’m too young to date. Fine. Raising me hasn’t been easy.
I get that. But telling me I’ve been bitten by a werewolf and trying to send me away because you believe something is wrong with our neighbors isn’t right, Mom.
“I’m not angry or rebelling. I’m scared. This isn’t you. When did you become this…” I shook my head, not wanting to call her paranoid or delusional. “Please, please, please, talk to someone. I wasn’t kidding about not wanting to be a ward of the state.”
Frustration replaced her previous anger. “Did you even look at the werewolf section when you went to the library?”
“Yeah. That’s how I found the werewolf romance I read and loaned to Sam.”
“Not the fiction stuff—they really need to get rid of those—the non-fiction ones.”
“Yes, Mom. I read the three non-fiction books while I was there. And no, they didn’t convince me werewolves are real. But they did help me understand why you think they are. Have you ever seen a werewolf? Better yet, do you know one I could talk to?”
She sighed.
Sighed.
The defeated kind.
“Yes. So do you. It’s Sam, baby.” She handed me my reader. “And you just told him what he needed to do to win you over, whether you meant to or not.
“When you realize what he is, come talk to me, and I’ll tell you why they’re so dangerous. Until then, be careful. Stay in public places. I love you and want you to be safe.”
She left.
I stood there, torn between kicking my bed and yelling into my pillow. I went with option C, escape, and packed the books I wanted to return.
In the hallway, I hesitated outside her closed door. The quiet sound of her voice reassured me a little. She needed to talk to someone, even if that person was the mom of the man who’d skipped out on us.
Outside, I took a moment to look up at the clear blue sky.
Mom would be fine. This wasn’t a mental break. It was deeply rooted fears planted by the media before I was born. It explained why news had shifted to practical, boring topics over sensational ones. Too much drama negatively impacted mental health.
I glanced at my bag, seeing the irony.
It’s about balance. School is my no-drama reality check.
Walking around the shrubs, I headed for Sam’s door. It opened before I reached it again.
“Up for a walk?” I lifted my bag to show I was ready.
He took it from me, shouldering it. “Ready.”
“I didn’t mean you needed to carry the books,” I said, trying to take them back.
He caught my hand to stop me, and my pulse went crazy.
“I know. But I was raised to offer help when I can. Why should you have to carry it when I’m here? If you want to, you can, of course. But isn’t walking easier if you don’t have to? Or…don’t you trust me with your things?”
“Of course not. I mean, I trust you. With my things. I trust you with my things.”
Shut your mouth, Clarity. You’re not making it better.
But he was making it hard for me to think straight. His hand was so warm, and he smelled nice. I wanted to lean in and inhale.
He tilted his head, studying me.
“Are you all right?”
I pulled my hand free from his and tugged my zipper up a little higher, as if that was why I’d let go. Then I shoved my hands into my pockets. My right one was tingling where he’d touched it.
“I’m fine. Ready?”
He caught up with me in two steps and started asking questions about the books I was returning.
Talking to him was so easy, but it didn’t erase my guilt over how I’d reacted to him. It wasn’t my fault, though. He was nice, handsome, and smelled good. Of course I was attracted to him.
Way to justify it, Clarity. Isn’t that how guys justify their rights to pester girls they find attractive?
“We can turn around if you want?”
“Huh? Why?” I asked, confused by his sudden suggestion.
“Because you’re upset. Did you argue with your mom again?”
“Yeah,” I said, latching onto that reason instead of the current one: his sexual preference and the fact that I didn’t fit it. “So I’d rather not go back yet.”
“Was it because of me again?”
“We’re disagreeing about a lot lately, which isn’t normal for us. And it feels like it keeps escalating. Before I left, I called my grandma to ask if I could move in with her for a few weeks. It hurt Mom.”
“Were you being serious about moving?” he asked.
“Yeah. There’s no point staying if Mom and I are going to be on each other’s nerves nonstop. It’s not like I want to leave, though. Especially to move in with a stranger.”
“Your grandma’s a stranger?”
“Pretty much. I’ve never met her. She’s in another state, and my dad’s Mom. He said he wanted nothing to do with me before I was born, and I think Mom was trying to respect that by keeping our distance from his Mom, too. Grandma Emily always sent me cards, though. Birthday and holidays.”
“Nothing from him?”
“No. He died two years ago. Car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
I shrugged. “That’s life, right? You live the best you can until you die. He knew his best life didn’t include me and stayed true to his beliefs. I can’t fault him for that. Just like I can’t fault Mom for staying true to what she believes.”
“Which is what?”
I smiled slightly.
“Currently? That I’m being a pain in her ass.”
My chest started to ache uncomfortably, which was weird. What was going on with Mom didn’t really bother me…that much.
“Are you going to go?” he asked after a moment.
Lifting my shoulders with another shrug, I didn’t answer. I couldn’t say what I didn’t know.
I turned the conversation back to books, and Sam took the hint. We ranked our favorite genres the rest of the way to the library.
Mr. Clint looked up as we walked in.
“Hey, Clarity.”
“Hi, Mr. Clint. This is Sam. He moved here last week.”
“Hi, Sam. Welcome to the library. Let me know if you’re interested in anything. If we don’t have it, I can try ordering it for you.”
“Thank you,” Sam said.
I turned in the last batch of books and took Sam to the werewolf section. His gaze caught on the non-fiction books, and I felt a burst of tension. But that tension eased as his attention shifted to the romance options.
“Wow. That’s a lot of variety,” he said.
“I know, right? You pick three, and I’ll pick three.”
We spent a good amount of time browsing and debating our picks since we planned to exchange them. Mr. Clint was ready for us at the main desk, and he helped Sam sign up for his own card.
I couldn’t wait to read and exchange our books. No, it wasn’t the exchange I was looking forward to, but the conversation afterward. Talking about books was always fun. Debating them was even better, and I couldn’t wait to hear Sam’s critique of the male lead’s courting efforts.
The anticipation for that was making my heart pound just a little harder. I was so focused on that reaction that I wasn’t even thinking of my stomach until it growled on the way out.
Very loudly.
“Any chance you want to get some ice cream?” Sam asked. “I saw a place that way.” He pointed in the direction of the town’s ice cream parlor. They made all their flavors in-house. I wanted to say yes so badly. Mostly just to spend more time with him, but also…ice cream. Instead, I shook my head.
“I didn’t bring my wallet.”
“My treat for loaning me the book, showing me the library, and just spending time with me.”
The longer his gaze held mine, the more the need to agree consumed me until I nodded. His devastating smile distracted me from basic functions. Like walking.
I tripped over my own feet and would have planted my face on the concrete if Sam hadn’t grabbed my arm. His tug to keep me upright spun me around. Once again, I found myself pressed against his flannelled chest, breathing in his scent.
How could anyone hate poor coordination? It definitely didn’t feel like a flaw when it landed me right where I’d dreamed of being.
“Are you all right?” he asked, moving his hand from my arm to the back of my neck.
My pulse tripled, and I wanted to press into him even more. Wrap my arms around him. Hold him. Bite him. Just a little nibble.
His fingers moved, rubbing gently.
Struggling to breathe normally, I pushed out of his arms.
“I’m okay. Sorry. I wasn’t watching my feet.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m just glad you’re not hurt. Ready for more?”
“Huh?”
His gaze locked with mine. His slow, amused smile scrambled the rest of my currently questionable intelligence.
“Are you ready for more walking, or should I carry you?” he clarified.
The image of my arms around his neck while he walked down the sidewalk with me in his arms popped into my head.
“I can walk,” I said quickly.
Why did my answer disappoint me so much?