Chapter Twenty. Dorothy #2
His black hair is wetter than it was when I left him and it hangs over his forehead, curls around his ears.
There is something wild about him too, something I can’t put my finger on.
He’s wearing different clothing—a black shirt made of soft cotton with three buttons below the collar. It reminds me of the Henleys Edward wears in the fall to keep warm.
“You look better,” I tell him.
“So do you.” He smiles down at me and leans into the doorway with his shoulder. “May I come in?”
Toto huffs from behind me.
“Of course,” I say, ignoring my dog because how dare he ruin my fun.
I’m still a little tipsy from the ale and the ozrum and maybe more courageous than I ought to be.
I pull the door back and Rook enters casually, easily, as if he visits a woman’s room on any old occasion.
Of course he does. Look at him. He might not have memories but surely he’s looked in the mirror by now? Women and men must swoon at the sight of him. I would swoon if I were the swooning type. Which I am not. But I could be. For him.
Don’t fucking swoon, Dorothy.
Rook circles the room.
“Have any memories returned?” I ask him. “That man … the doctor. Did he know you?”
Rook glances at me with a frown. “Afraid not. He mistook me for someone else.”
I deflate. “I was hoping someone here would recognize you.”
“Me too.” He comes to a stop at the window that overlooks the street below. In the distance, over the nearby rooftops, I can see the wizard’s statue, the sweep of his bronze hair in the golden twilight.
“Remy said you have the room next to me?”
“I do.” He leans a shoulder into the window casing.
“That’s good. I’m glad you’re near. I mean … that’s not what I meant.”
He tilts his head. “Are you drunk, Kansas?”
“What? No! Well … buzzy. Not drunk, I assure you.”
“I am assured.” He smiles.
“The ale is good here.”
“I’ll try to remember that.”
“And we did a god salute, with the rum.”
His dark brows sink over his eyes. “A god salute?”
“Have you never heard of it? It’s like this: East, West, Oz … no, wait, that’s not right. Oz, Oz, Oz!”
He’s laughing harder, his shoulders rocking.
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember it exactly.”
“I’m sorry I missed it.”
“You should be! It was fun.”
“I can tell.”
“You, like, tap your glass … like, boom, boom, boom.” I show him the movements and as I do, a lock of hair falls forward in front of my eyes. He reaches across the space between us and swipes the hair back, tucking it behind my ear.
Without thought, and running on pure adrenaline, I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss him.
His mouth is reluctant beneath mine and it sends reality crashing in.
I yank back. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know why I did that. Maybe I am drunk. That was truly an awful thing to do. You have no memories. You’ve had a horrible day. You barely know me and—”
He grabs my arm, his hand wrapping around my wrist. His touch, the cool press of his fingers, makes me instantly shut up.
“Don’t apologize for being bold, Kansas.” His green eyes reflect the light from beyond the window. There is amusement there. Not anger or disgust.
I breathe out.
“I admire boldness,” he adds. “But regardless of that, ozrum can make fools of the best of us.” He points to the street below where a group of East Enders are linked arm in arm, singing a celebration song at the top of their lungs.
I laugh. “True.”
“Can I tell you a secret, Kansas?”
“Of course.”
“I like it when you laugh.”
Heat rises up my throat and flames across my cheeks.
This kindness is no different from any kindness Edward gifted me.
So why does it feel different?
Why does it feel like the floor has disappeared beneath me and I’m weightless?
“Thank you.”
Rook dips down and plants a chaste kiss on my cheek. Somehow it’s more intimate than the kiss I gave him.
“Thank you for saving me, Kansas.”
“It was nothing—” I start, but he cuts me off.
“I don’t know how long I was tied to that pole, but I could have died out there. The doctor said I lost a lot of blood. His theory was that whoever did this intended for me to die a slow death.”
“Really? That’s awful.”
He nods. “You truly did save me.”
“Well … I’m happy I was there.” A yawn sneaks up on me and I cover it with my hand. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“You should rest,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”
“I suppose you’re right. Apparently, the Hollow is planning a celebration tomorrow and I’m the guest of honor.”
“That’s nice of them.”
“Will you come?”
“If you’d like me to.”
“I think I would.”
“Then I will.” He starts for the door, pausing over the threshold. “Kansas … what is your favorite breakfast food?”
“It’s Dorothy.”
“I know.” A smirk lifts the corner of his mouth.
Why do I feel like giggling? I am a schoolgirl all over again.
“I like eggs over easy. Toast. Jam. Especially strawberry. And coffee. Why?”
He shrugs and steps into the hallway. The flickering candles in the glass sconces line him in warmth. “I can’t remember what mine is, that’s all.”
There is real sorrow on his face now. “I’m sorry.” I keep saying that around him.
“No bother. Yours will be mine until I find mine again. If that’s all right.”
“Of course. You can’t go wrong with strawberry jam.”
“Good to know. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Good night.”
He pulls the door closed behind him and I hear his footsteps fall down the hallway.
I make a silent squeal of delight.
Toto looks up at me. If dogs could scowl, he would be scowling extra hard right now.
“It’s innocent,” I tell him.
He huffs.
“He’s handsome!” I whisper.
He huffs again.
“Stop judging me.”
I get ready for bed, shedding as much clothing as I feel comfortable with. I hang my dress on a hook by the door but leave on my shift.
I yank back the quilt and find crisp white sheets. I climb in and sigh. Considering I was planning to sleep in the woods tonight, a soft bed and cool sheets are heaven.
Toto goes to the door and barks at it.
“What is it?”
He barks again.
I know what he’s suggesting. I should lock the door.
“I just got comfortable,” I tell him.
Another yip.
I trust Rook. I trust Remy.
But a witch tried to kill me and Rook was snatched from his life and tied to a pole.
I decide Toto has a good point.
I go to the door and slide the lock closed.