“Thank you.” I reached out and cupped a bowl with both of my hands, and brought it close to my body, the heat warming me. With one eye steady on my filled-to-the-brim bowl that was steaming out of the center, I headed to the sofa. I don’t think I’d ever eaten anything that came from a can before. I wouldn’t really know as we always had chefs at the palace, but I went anentire day yesterday without a bite to eat, and I was famished. Nothing ever looked more delicious to me in my life.
Reeves retrieved the other bowl and casually took the spot on the couch next to me. “Sorry about the seating arrangements. I wasn’t planning on having company.”
“Don’t apologize.” I lifted my spoon, scooped up a noodle, and held it up, letting it steam. “I’m sorry about my intrusion. You must know this wasn’t my plan.”
“I don’t mind.” As he lifted his hand to eat, his arm brushed against mine, and it left prickles that spiraled up my arm.
Sitting with Reeves was not uncomfortable, but he was always so quiet, and the silence expanded enough to make me risk small talk. “How much snow did we get?”
“A little over sixteen inches so far, but it’s supposed to pick up again this morning and bring another foot today. With the wind, it will be a complete whiteout again.” He dabbed the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “You won’t be going anywhere for at least another day.”
“That might be okay.” I considered the timeframe as I spoke. “It will give me time to come up with a plan.”
His brows furrowed together, pinning a confused look in place. “You don’t know what you’re doing?”
“Do I ever?” I flashed a look heavenward. “I obviously didn’t plan any of this. I’d been preparing my heart for engagement, but this feeling of betrayal enveloped my heart.” I paused, taking time to swallow, even though there wasn’t any food in my mouth. It was the swelling that came whenever I pictured sweet Weston on the frontlines. Yeah, he was a trained infantry soldier, but never a fighter. He went into the military with the sole intention of being my personal guard because Father had already laid the offer on the table. It was known from the start that Weston was always to be at the palace, and never in danger. It was a way for him to earn money right out of school, withouthaving to go from home. And don’t get me started on his poor, single mother. She had to be beside herself. As far as I was concerned, Father betrayed us all.
“You could go to America.” His expression was indifferent.
I hadn’t thought about going that far, but it made sense once the words were out. I couldn’t hang around here where I could be recognized. As I scooped up the last of my soup, I pictured myself walking on an American city street, blending into the crowd. I could get a job in some office, maybe as an assistant or something. Nobody would ever suspect a princess would work that kind of job. I’d wear those high-rise trousers that I always see American businesswoman wearing on TV, with white button shirts. I could easily cut my long hair into something that’s perceived to be more professional. It could work. “I’ve never been there. Have you?”
“A few times.” He reached over and took my empty bowl from me, returning our dishes to the sink. It hadn’t dawned on me until that moment that perhaps I was supposed to take care of my own bowl. I’d never cleared a dish in my life. I wasn’t even sure what you did with them when they left the table. He put them in the sink. Did you air them out for a while? I would assume you’d need soap . . .
“Do you want coffee?” He cut off my train of thought, by flashing the coffee pot at me.
“I’m good, thank you.” I brought my feet up in front of my body, curling into a ball while pondering on the idea of America. “If I went to America,” I rubbed the back of my neck, speaking as the thoughts came. “I’d have to fly and could be tracked. Unless do you have a way—”
“I wasn’t special intelligence.” He snickered as if he was reading my mind, but after a moment of silence he had some suggestions. “You’d have to get a fake ID to travel commercially. Or, if you have the money, you can risk paying someone off.” Heheld a serious expression as if this was an average conversation, but that grated on my conscience. Clearly, he’d been through some stuff, but disappearing and faking identities shouldn’t have been such an easy conversation for anyone. I considered it, but it felt so far-fetched, I had a hard time not giggling. It was absurd. His ability to have this conversation, and not be affected, made me curious about him.
Whenever we were together, I was the one who did most of the talking. I didn’t know much about him. “So, the Army,” I echoed, taking the rare chance since he brought it up. “What was that like?”
“Sucked.” His one-word answer slammed the door on that conversation.
“Care to expand?” I winced at how not smooth that sounded, and I was glad he was standing behind me.
“Nope.”
“You have to have gained something from it.” I cringed, wondering why I was forcing this when it was clear he didn’t want to talk about it. The thing is, I was curious. With Weston on the frontlines, I was terrified of all the things that were happening. Maybe I was wanting Reeves to say it was the best experience and you’re never scared. It was silly because I wasn’t naive about war. I was grasping for hope that maybe . . . someday, I’d see Weston again. I was also insanely curious about his hand, something that was always there but he never talked about. I turned, peering over my shoulder, hoping to glimpse at his facial expression or anything that would help me better to understand everything.
“It’s one thing you’re glad about when it ends.” As if he couldn’t risk even another prying question, he moved toward the door and slipped on his coat. “I’m going to check on my animals.”
My brows knitted together. I had hit a nerve, and now I felt awful. I wasn’t trying to upset him, but I wanted to know something about him other than what was obvious. “Sorry,” the word burst out.
He folded his bottom lip under as he gripped the doorframe and slipped on his boots. “I’m fine not talking about me.”
My lips fell apart as I now had this nagging guilt. I pinched my words as he placed his hat on his head, nodded his goodbye, and left.
Bringing my thumb to my mouth, I chewed on the tip of my thumbnail as I watched through the window. I thought about how he forced me to dance with him at the festival. He had seemed so charismatic that night, so different. Almost as if he were playing a character role of some sort. Today, he slipped back into a somber tone. He was hard to place. Definitely moody. It was clearly two different people.
A chameleon. Though I could understand his need for different facades, that made me nervous. Who was he really, and why did it seem as if he was trying to be someone he wasn’t sometimes?
It’s almost like he’s up to something.
fifteen
Reeves
Trekking through some snow drifts, and over the tops of some of the more compact piles, I traipsed to the barn. Unfortunately, the old-style red barn had fared even worse than my rundown house as the whole structure seemed off-balance. If I listened hard enough, I could hear it creak under the pressure of the snow. I had joked when I first saw this barn, that one good storm would blow it away. I trod carefully into the open space, hoping today wasn’t the day I would test that theory.
