In the dream, Daniel had been in the bed with me. Not doing anything but holding me. Talking to me. Kissing me.
When I’d woken up, tears had been running down my face. I missed him so much and it hadn’t even been a full day.
I lifted a hand to rub my sternum. There was an ache there behind it.
I heard quiet footsteps on the gravel path that wound around the cottage. I knew it wasn’t Daniel. His tread would have been silent.
As I expected, Bernie appeared around the edge of the house, wearing a black sweatshirt, jeans, and boots. He looked like a man dressed in shadow.
Then, I realized that he was in mourning. The black wasn’t meant to intimidate. He was grieving the loss of my great aunt.
“Good morning,” I said to him.
“Good morning.” He climbed the steps to the back porch and settled on the swing next to me.
“You want a cup of coffee?” I asked.
“I’ll get it,” he answered.
A minute later, the back door opened, and a mug floated out, steam trailing behind it.
He never would have done that around me before. Not before I knew that he was a sorcerer.
I shook my head and lifted my own cup to my lips. A plume of steam greeted me. I smirked. Bernie couldn’t resist. My coffee had been stone cold when he walked up, but now it was just as hot as if it had come straight out of the machine.
“Beautiful morning,” he murmured, plucking his cup out of the air and taking a sip.
“Is it?” I asked.
He glanced at me. “Are you ready to tell me what’s going on yet?” he asked.
Last night, he’d tried to ask me about it, but I’d refused. I wasn’t ready to deal with it. Instead, I’d asked him about the week he’d spent with Bethany.
I held him when he’d teared up, talking about going to their favorite places in the wilderness. He’d held me too when I cried.
I was crying for the loss of my great aunt, and for what I had lost in Daniel.
“I’m not ready, but I need to talk to someone about this and you’re the only person I trust in this entire town right now,” I said.
“That doesn’t sound good,” he said.
So, I began.
I told him about the first night when I was in Bethany’s store and Daniel had stopped by. How I’d said something ridiculous, and Daniel had assumed I knew about supernatural creatures.
While I did leave some of the more illicit details out of my story, I did tell him about the kiss in the forest the first night I’d tried to run away. And how Daniel had accidentally nicked me with his fangs during said kiss.
The longer I spoke, the heavier the air around us seemed to be. It was as if the weight of my words and emotions were leaving me and hanging in the very atmosphere.
When I was done, I leaned back and sighed. And just like that, the heaviness of the air was gone. It seemed to be swept away by the air I released.
I glanced at Bernie, but he wasn’t looking at me. He was staring out at the rising sun, which was much higher on the horizon than it had been when I began my story.
He turned his coffee mug around in his hand, over and over.
The silence eventually became too much, and I asked, “What are you thinking?”
Bernie turned toward me, a wry smile tugging at his mouth. “I was just thinking that Bethany would know what to say. And that she would be tickled that you were in love with the mayor.”
