I was good at understanding situations. I wasn’t good at understanding people. Not the way I wanted to understand her.
She wasn’t just a data set of predictable habits that a profiler could classify and neatly label in a file.
Dr. Amelia Hawthorne was an enigma.
I tried to pick her apart while I gathered the tools stored in the cellar to fix the bed to the best of my ability, but I couldn’t.
The repair took hours. I pieced the bedframe together where it had cracked after ages of sitting vacant. I replaced and reinforced the wood beams. I swept up the sawdust from drilling in new supports.
Never once did she move. She was a statue, calm and stoic as she dealt hand after hand. It didn’t matter if they were good or bad. Her expression never changed. Still, I knew her mind raced. There was no stopping that.
Then, I saw the shift. The subtle change in her pattern of breathing. The slight flare of her nostrils. The way the corners of her mouth tightened.
She jolted, startled when I laid my hand on the cards she had dealt. “Get your shoes on.”
Her brows furrowed. “Why?”
I moved the bedside table and lifted the cellar door. “I want to show you something.”
Reluctantly, Amelia slid on her shoes and followed me down. The chill in the cellar was distinct. I closed the overhead door and barred it, just for good measure. We’d come back home through the tunnel. If anyone was watching, it would look like we never left.
The tunnel door was covered with cobwebs but opened easily. I grabbed a flashlight and took her hand.
Amelia paused. “I thought the creepy tunnel was a last resort.”
I cracked a smile and flicked on the flashlight as bugs scurried away from the beam. “Come on, little fox. Be curious.”
“Curiosity got me into this mess.” Her eyes flicked to the door. “Shouldn’t we be staying out of sight?”
“The point of life isn’t to avoid dying. You’re supposed tolive.” I stroked my beard. “But because we’re not trying to die today, we’ll be discreet.”
We took the walk slowly, watching our steps as we traversed the sporadic bits of gravel before it turned completely to dirt.
“Where’s your head at?” I said softly as I ducked beneath a support beam that was a little too low for my height.
“I’m fine,” she said coolly. “What happened . . . It was a reality check.” She swallowed. “I got too comfortable.”
She was right and I hated that.
I had gotten too comfortable as well.
But was that so wrong? To feel comfortable enough with someone to let my guard down?
“Whoever it was, they left,” I said as we continued to trudge down the tunnel.
“You’re a good storyteller. They believed you.” Gone was the simmering heat between us. Amelia was downright frosty.
“You’re right. It was a reality check, and I’m working on the implications of that. It’s my job.” I squeezed her hand. “But right now, I want to know what’s going through your head.”
Silence.
Nothing but footsteps.
“Talk to me, little fox. I thought we had a good thing going.”
More silence.
We had almost made it to the end of the tunnel when Amelia slid her fingers between mine. “I’m so mad at Joel.” She swallowed. “But I miss him. I miss him so much it hurts. We shared everything. We’ve always been inseparable. It just. . .” Her voice cracked. “It feels like I lost part of myself.”
