“The rain is still com-coming down hard.” He nodded toward the window.
I let him change the subject, sensing he needed the moment to collect himself. Outside, the rain continued its assault on the shed roof, a steady drumming that created a cocoon of intimacy around us.
Each flash of lightning through the window illuminated the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his tusks, and the intensity in his eyes as they tracked my every movement.
Rumbles of thunder were followed by flickers of lightning through the small window. The storm seemed to be moving away.
“At least the floor’s dry,” I pointed out, dropping beside Tressa who’d laid across the back, below the window. At least she wasn’t trembling or afraid. Maybe, like me, she loved storms.There was something wildly electric about them that thrilled through me. I used to watch them pass from my bedroom window when I was little.
Sad that I’d stopped doing that long ago.
After a pause, Hail settled beside me.
There wasn’t much room. My shoulder pressed against his elbow, making the difference in our sizes even more apparent. His hand was easily twice the size of mine, his thigh about the same. His bigness made me feel protected.
“You’re small,” he said, echoing my thoughts. His voice carried wonder, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.
“You’re big.” I looked up at him. “Does our size difference bother you?”
“No.” He turned to face me more fully. Flames still flickered in his dark eyes. “Do you know what bo-bothers me?”
“What?”
“I want to kiss you again, and we’re st-st-stuck in a shed the size of a closet with my wolf watching us.”
Tressa thumped her tail without lifting her head off her front paws.
“She’s tactful,” I said.
“She’s judging me. I can tell.”
I laughed, the sound seeming to surprise both of us.
Here, in this tiny shed with Hail, I felt safe. Safer than I had in months.
The realization scared me. Safety was a mirage, a trap I’d fallen into before. Every time I’d let myself believe I was protected, I’d been proven wrong. Yet here it was, wrapping around me as surely as Hail’s arms had a short time ago.
He brushed something from my cheek. “Clay.” He showed me the smudge on his thumb.
The simple touch sent shivers through me. “I probably have it everywhere.”
“A little. It su-suits you.”
“Clay suits me?”
“Working with your hands suits you. Creating something beautiful suits you.” His soft, intimate voice felt like a caress. “Being here in Lonesome Creek suits you, m-most of all.”
My chest cracked wide open at his words. The walls I’d built around my heart were fragile. They might crumble at his slightest touch.
“Hail.” I bit my tongue to hold the words back. I wanted to tell him everything. About my father, about Will Carmichael, about the phone calls and the constant fear. But the words stuck in my throat.
“It’s alright,” he said, as if he could read my mind. “You don’t have to s-s-say anything until you’re ready.”
“What if I’m never ready?”
“Then you’re not. That doesn’t change anything between us.”
“How can you say that? You don’t know what I might be hiding.”
