Chapter 2 #4
I listened intently, trying to understand the conversation.
“See you soon.”
And there it was again. The heaviness.
He was going to leave. Right away. This moment would come to an end.
Just a blink of an eye.
“My daughter…” he said with a smile tinged with obvious concern. “Our dog ate something he shouldn't have. I have to take him to the vet.” He sighed, looked down at my hands, and I wondered if he missed the skin contact too. “I'm sorry...”
I swallowed, feeling bad for feeling this loss when he obviously needed to be there for a four-legged friend.
I wasn't used to interacting with a man who had a daughter and a pet that both seemed to mean something to him. I wasn't good for people like that, should stay away from them and be grateful that our paths were parting and he couldn't continue reading a map whose roads led nowhere.
“I should go home anyway.”
He looked up from my hand and it almost hurt.
Only the surprise in his eyes distracted me from the unexpectedly intense feelings of that evening.
“You live in Maplecrest?”
I bit my tongue.
He lived in this town. There was hope that I would see him again. Hope I didn't want to have.
“Not really...” My voice was shaky. “Temporarily...” I hesitated because I didn't want to lie any more, but it was the truth. I didn't plan on staying, even though there were two things I wanted to get done before I left. “It's complicated.”
He smiled again.
“It's okay,” he said, and his smile calmed a troubled part of me. “You don't owe me an explanation.”
I wanted to say something, but his touch on my hand made me forget all the words. The warmth I had been missing flowed from his hand to my skin, and I breathed in, overwhelmed.
His eyes wandered to my lips.
My breath caught.
The wind played with the strands of hair on his forehead, awakening the urge in me to touch them, to let my fingers wander over his entire face.
I was sure that if I had the chance, I would stare at him until my eyelids closed from exhaustion.
You can't hold him back now.
I cleared my throat, cursing myself inwardly.
“Your dog.”
“My dog... right.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, messing up what the wind had spared so far, before turning away from me and sliding off the railing. Without letting go of my hand. Then he turned to me and looked at me expectantly.
And so, I slid off the bridge railing too.
As soon as my feet hit the ground, my shaky knees decided to give way.
I would have slipped sideways, but he put both hands on my cold upper arms, giving me support I hadn't thought I needed.
The warmth that flowed from his hands into my body was overwhelming, preventing my lips from uttering another word.
I looked up and met his searching eyes.
“Should I take you home?”
Home. Where was that place? Would I ever find it?
I slowly shook my head.
“Your dog is the priority.”
Even though my father didn't give a damn about me, he would load his hunting rifle faster than I could blink.
The last time a biker had brought me to the estate, he had made it clear that no man was safe around me.
That he would not let his family's reputation be dragged through the mud by his whore of a daughter.
“Could you promise me one thing, though?”
“I won't jump.” Not today. “I have a book in my bag that's too valuable for that.”
I gave him a genuine smile. One that only existed because he had been in the right place at the right time.
The unsuspecting man in front of me pursed his lips, then looked at my shoulders before letting go of me, and the coldness took over the warm spots he had left on my skin.
He took off his suit jacket and handed it to me.
“Then at least don't get cold.”
Without hesitation, I slipped on the warm jacket, took the Atwood book out of his suit pocket and handed it to him, while the pleasant smell of pine, coffee and cedar wood almost overwhelmed me, mixed with a masculine scent that threatened to take possession of my sanity.
“Thanks.”
That was all I could say, even though all the unspoken words between our clinging gazes could fill novels until the ink ran out.
But it was better that way.
He had a life here. I had none, was a walking time bomb that would explode sooner or later. And a single night with this man could shake my fragile world of ink and paper, could make me question things I didn't want to question.
Sometimes it was better not to know what could have been. Sometimes it was better not to be a victim of our own hopes.
And so, I felt like an idiot when I broke our last eye contact and turned away from him to walk down the dimly lit street, down into the night.
I pulled his jacket as tightly as I could around me, inhaling his scent deeply until a storm of moths broke out in my stomach, all chasing after the light. His light.
My fingers clawed at the book in my bag.
He could have sold it for a lot of money. But he had given it to me. Unaware of the destructive hope he had thereby planted within me.
I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger.
Why couldn't I do it?
– Leaking Batteries Diary