“Yes.”
“Well, we took a shine to him and taught him the guitar and piano.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but I stopped her. “You want to play something for real?”
“I’m not sure I’m that good.”
I spread my thighs and patted the space in front of me, making her quirk her brow. “I don’t think my ass is going to fit on the edge of this tiny sofa.”
I could have given up on the idea. I could have moved us both to the floor, but instead, I lifted her into my lap as she let out a tiny squeal.
“You good, Princess?” I asked, holding my hands up, realizing that it probably wasn’t the best idea, but then she looked down and smiled, her good eye twinkling.
“I’m good, but do I need to sit in your lap to play the guitar? Is this how you woo all the girls?”
Shifting her around, so her back was against my chest, I instantly regretted it as her legging-clad ass pressed against my cock and I had to use all my willpower to stop myself from getting hard. Instead, I pulled my guitar in front of her, holding her hand where I wanted it as I played the chords, strumming her fingers over the strings. I sang the familiar words to our last hit, my mouth ghosting her neck. By the final note, I could feel her rapid heartbeat, my skin prickling from her proximity.
“I can’t believe I played your song,” she whispered. “That was so cool. Thanks for the distraction.” She slipped out of my lap onto the seat next to me, leaving her legs over my knee soshe was still close. I offered her a smile, leaning my head back against the cushions and closing my eyes. We stayed in silence for a while. I liked that silence with her felt so easy; as if she helped me create it and protected me while I explored its unfamiliar space.
I didn’t know if I nodded off, but I suddenly felt her fingers on me. I kept my eyes closed because I wasn’t sure how to react, but as I sat there, I realized what she was doing; tracing my tattoos.
“They really are stunning,” she whispered as she touched the symbols that stretched out across my chest. “Do they have a meaning?”
“No,” I husked out. “I mean, they’re rune stones symbols. I like the idea that I’m throwing them out and they’re telling me my future.”
“And what are they telling you?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know what they mean.”
She laughed, making me open my eyes, the look on her face pulling a laugh from me too.
“And the one on your back? Is that new?”
I cocked my eyebrow, sitting up straighter. “It is. There’s a saying from some famous shrink that says no tree can grow to heaven without its roots reaching to hell.” I paused. Fern eased me forward, twisting me so she could see the tree that covered my back, tracing that as well, leaving a blaze of heat in the wake of her touch. “It’s a reminder that the bad times are necessary for the good to happen.”
“I like that,” she murmured. “It somehow makes the bad times worth it, right?”
“Right, Princess. That’s exactly right.”
Fern
The next few days passed in a blur—we ate, walked, I read while Charlie played his guitar. It was peaceful, slow paced, and just what my body and my mind needed, but as the New Year loomed, my mood shifted. Tense, anxious, worried, my skin crawled at the thought of going back to the real world and having to explain to the people who loved me what happened.
I knew I could pretend everything was fine, but Charlie had been right; this was too big to hide. And in a world where James Horten could appear anywhere, at any time, I needed people who could protect me.
I sighed as I looked at myself in the mirror. The swelling had gone down so my eye now opened properly but the angry black and purple bruise was still visible, reminding me about the shithead that put it there. The longer I stared, the more of his words that night and all the other times he’d spoken to me like a piece of meat came slamming back into my memory, igniting the anger that was already bubbling there.
I needed to move. I needed fresh air. I needed some space. Charlie was in the bath, probably moaning about the lukewarm water and how small the tub was because that was what he’d done every day since we’d gotten here.
Pulling on a sports bra, hoodie, and leggings before stuffing my feet into my sneakers and pulling a cap onto my head, I left out of the side door, shivering as the strong wind hit me.
I set off along the path Jarrid had told us was safe to walk and I ran, pounding out my shitty mood, while the crashing waves below me acted as my soundtrack.
I’d run for much longer than planned, only turning back because the sky grew dark and gray and the wind became too much. With the lighthouse back in sight, I let out an exhausted breath.
Home sweet home.
I almost laughed at how domesticated things had become this week. Charlie and I touched a lot. Holding hands while we watched movies, sleeping in the same bed, more often than not waking wrapped around each other. I liked it. More than I wanted to admit.
