“I am.” My gaze drops to her mouth.
She bites her lip, looking at my mouth. “I want to kiss you.”
I nearly laugh. “Go ahead.”
She kisses me hard. I want this every night. I wonder if she would stay.
The next morning, the truck’s gas gauge leans to empty. I drive down the logging road to the station at the edge of town. Inside, I grab a coffee and toss a lollipop bouquet onto the counter. I pay, put them in the cab, then pump gas.
Ghost fills his truck. He lives off-grid up the ridge. Tall, leaner than me, his eyes nearly hidden under a pulled-low cap. He nods at me.
I nod back. That’s enough.
I’m still pumping gas when Ghost finishes, and he walks past my truck and glances in the cab. He gives me another nod. One that holds weight. Then he gets into his truck and drives away.
The nod settles deep. My heart thuds.
As I stand at the pump, the warmth Ghost’s nod brings shifts into a cold knot of fear. If the solitary man of the mountains sees her presence, she’s real. And real means I can lose her.
Dread claws through me. Losing her means returning to the silence I escaped. The void will be deeper now that I know light.
When I come home, she’s at the table with Spool at her feet and index cards fanned around her, glasses on, the bookmark sticking out of the book resting in her lap.
Her head lifts, and her eyes brighten. “I missed you.”
Her missing me spreads a potent warmth, a hunger I hadn’t known. I hand her the candy. “No flowers at the gas station, so got these for you.”
She hurries toward me, kisses me, and then takes the lollipop bouquet. “These are much better than flowers. I have the biggest sweet tooth. Thanks.”
Rosalind’s gratitude for even the smallest gesture—a cheap lollipop bouquet—makes me burn with fury. What monsters did she know to make this feel like a miracle? She deserves the world. I want to give it to her.
That night at dinner, she sets her fork on her plate. “I need to go into town tomorrow. I have prep work for Evelyn that requires some things.”
“For how long?”
“Couple hours.”
I nod, though my throat tightens on the wordstay. “I can come back mid-day and take you.”
And the next day, I do. Spool goes with us. Dropping her off in front of Bluebird Bookstore makes me want to hurl. “Text me when you’re finished.”
“Thanks, Jace.” And she walks into the shop.
Spool sits beside me, staring at the empty spot in the cab. He whimpers and goes to the passenger window.
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I know.”
I drive to the trailhead lot and park. Her hatchback is still there. That makes her seem closer. “She won’t be gone for long.”
At least not this time. I push the thought away.
Time drags. I check my phone for her text ten times in forty minutes, even with notifications on for her.
My phone stays silent. I used to want it that way. Now the quiet hurts. Only her words will fix it.
I stare at the phone, a cold dread twisting in my gut. What if the phone stays dark? What if she doesn’t come back?
eleven
