He clapped my shoulder, hard, and went inside. The screen door slapped shut behind him, leaving me alone with the bugs and the wind and the moon skating on the surface of the lake.
I stood there until my hands went numb, and then I went inside too.
His words haunted the core of my soul because I knew he was right.
I hovered by Amelia’s door for a full minute, hand poised to knock, then thought better of it. I’d never been good at knowing when to leave something alone, but tonight I tried to let her be.
I crashed on the couch, didn’t bother with a blanket. I let my body cool, every muscle and bone fine with freezing if that was what it took to keep everything else together.
40
AMELIA
That night,I dreamt of both Dante and Caiden. Their hands roaming over my exposed flesh, their lips coating every inch of my skin, painting my body with roses and sunlight.
I awoke to the sound of birds filling the empty spaces in the silence. I wanted to stay in bed, to nestle into the covers and drift from reality.
But reality would still be here when I resurfaced, and I realized there was no point in hiding.
My hand lingered in the air by the doorknob. I didn’t trust how I would react when I saw Caiden. I imagined walking out and seeing him standing on the porch. I imagined running into his arms and diving into something that was fated in the stars.
My inner thighs still tingled when I thought about our kiss yesterday. Not rushed or full of tense fury, it was different.
Aching.
Passionate.
Consuming.
For a moment while I was on his lap, I didn’t want it to end. I wanted us to keep going until all our clothes were ripped off, and we were tangled up in each other.
I couldn’t believe that I was thinking this way about Caiden, the one man who I never envisioned myself being intimate with.
I rolled out of bed to change my clothes and shuffled to the bathroom, face puffy and hair wild as seaweed. I brushed my teeth, watching myself in the mirror, marveling at what a night of safe sleep did to my skin.
The lines that had framed my eyes since my mother’s death had faded a little, the bruised shadows under my cheekbones a little less severe. Even my mouth seemed to have softened, like the memory of Caiden’s kiss had pressed some new shape into it.
The kitchen was bright with morning sun. Dante sat at the table, feet propped on a chair, a book open, and half a cup of coffee in reach. He looked up when I entered.
“Morning,” he said. “You sleep okay? It’s almost ten.”
“Yeah. I think I could’ve slept forever,” I said. I grabbed a mug and poured the last of the coffee, black and acrid, but it suited me. “Where’s Caiden?”
He shrugged, the gesture lazy but aware. “Out for a walk, I think. Said he needed some time to himself before we head out. You know how he gets.”
I did know, all too well.
“That’s fair,” I said. I tried to picture Caiden in the woods, stomping through last year’s leaves, picking a fight with the quiet, but all I could see was the way he’d looked at me last night.
Dante closed his book and studied me. “You seem better today. Less haunted.”
I tipped my mug at him. “Maybe I just gave up haunting myself for a morning.”
He gave a small huff of a laugh. “You should give up more often.”
I didn’t want to talk about Caiden, but everyone knows that when two people tiptoe around a subject, it only grows teeth.
I sat beside Dante at the table, watching the orbit of his hands around the mug.
