I slide my gaze his way, trying to keep the guilt out of my expression. I still haven’t figured out a way to ask him about his ancestors or what I think I learned at the Sterling family plot today.
“Uh, I went back to the cemetery to do some research.”
His entire body stiffens. “Emery.”
“What? It was broad daylight.” I wave my hand around. “Well, as bright as it seems to get around here. I was perfectly safe. Never stopped by to whisper to the Weeping Widow. Didn’t hear any hoofbeats.” I swallow hard and glance away. “My arm only tingled once when I passed the Widow.”
“So, you did stop by the statue?”
I stop in front of him and stare up into his concerned face. “No, but she’s hard to miss.”
He blows out a long breath—like he’s counting back from ten to hold onto his patience. “You shouldn’t have gone alone.”
A soft warning, not anger. Still feels like I’m being scolded. “I’m a big girl, Declan. I’ve been on my own a lot longer than most people my age. I know how to take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you do.” He waves a hand toward the town square. “Out there. Inside Crowsbridge Hollow isn’t the same.”
I open my mouth, ready with a thousand arguments—logic, skepticism, sarcasm—but the mark on my arm tingles, stealing all of them. Declan doesn’t need to scold me when the curse is more than willing to do the job.
“The mark?” he asks.
I hold my arm up, the green light pulsing faintly through my sleeve. “I feel like it’s mocking me now and taking your side.”
He doesn’t laugh. Not even a twitch at the corners of his mouth.
He’s worried.
Finally, he shakes his head. “All right. As long as you’re okay.”
That seemed a little too easy. “I’m fine.”
“You want to walk around more,” he asks, “or head somewhere quieter?”
Somewhere we can be alone? Yes, please!“I want to save something for later. Let’s go. Where do you have in mind?”
“My place.”
My pulse jumps, quick and dizzying. “The apartment or your house?”
A V forms between his eyebrows. “You want to go back to the house?”
“Sure. It’s beautiful. I’d love to…explore it more.” Anxious that I’ll offend him, I shyly hold up my camera. “I’d love to take some footage there if you’d allow it.”
His frown deepens but he tilts his head, dark eyes studying me. “I don’t really want to encourage tourists to start showing up in my driveway.” He pauses, his face screwing into a thoughtfulscowl. “I…you could film the river from one of the balconies in the morning. With the fog rolling in and the sun cutting through, it’d give you a nice, spooky vibe.”
Knowing how Declan feels about exposure, heck, how he feels about my entire investigation, his offer seems like a huge deal. “I’d love that. Thank you.”
Declan picks up our cocoa cups and hands mine back while keeping the kettle corn tucked under his arm. “Come on. It’s too chilly for the bike tonight. My truck’s behind the shop.”
I glance around, trying to get my bearings. “Lead the way.”
The crowd seems even more wound up as we walk. The fog presses closer, softening the lights and decorations until everything appears slightly blurred around the edges. Declan slides his free hand down my back, his palm warm through my coat as he guides me around a cluster of kids swinging glow sticks.
We reach his truck. He opens the passenger door and helps me up, his hand lingering at my waist, thumb brushing a slow arc through my coat. Heat pools in my chest. The mark under my sleeve flickers, restless.
He closes my door gently, like I’m precious cargo he doesn’t want to jostle, then rounds the hood and climbs in beside me. The cab lights wash his features in harsh yellow for a second before fading, leaving only the faint glow from the buildings behind us.
His jaw works as he starts the engine. The truck rumbles to life and he flicks on the heat, turning it all the way up.
