“Just keep it on,” Arlo says, huffing as he spins the wheel. This car thing is not unlike a ship in some ways. Though more confining than I’d like.
It takes a long time, but eventually the crowded streets of the city disappear, and we’re surrounded by countryside.
Arlo clears his throat beside me. “We should practice being close with each other.”
“In what way?”
Arlo keeps his eyes on the road when he reaches out to me. “We could hold hands?”
I stare at his hand, my heart beating a little faster. “Aye. Easy enough.” It should be, but there’s an odd fluttering in my belly, as if I’ve swallowed butterflies.
Arlo gasps when I grab his hand. “I said hold my hand, not break it.”
I huff. “My grip’s not even that tight.”
The last hand I ever held was Leif’s. It was rough and calloused from working the fields of his farm. Arlo’s is soft and warm, so very different from Leif’s.
“Relax,” Arlo says. “You’re tense.”
I blow out a breath. “I am not.”
Arlo slips his fingers between mine. His thumb rubs along my knuckles, circling. It’s a pleasant sensation. It feels right. Our hands fit together perfectly, like two halves of a whole. His touch fills a void in my heart that I thought would be empty forever.
I tug my hand away as all those pleasant feelings turn to ash.
“What’s wrong?” Arlo asks.
“Nothing.” I look out the window.
I vowed never to forget Leif. Replacing the memory of his touch with another’s should feel wrong, but it didn’t. And that is bloody terrifying.
Arlo drives us through the gates of his family home, and his family has gathered on the front lawn to welcome us. My stomach twists with apprehension. Surely they’ll see through our lies.
“I’ve already told them you’re a shifter,” Arlo says, unbuckling his seat belt. “They won’t faint from shock.”
Before Arlo can leave, I grab his wrist. “Hold a moment.” I rummage in my pocket. “Your parents’ll expect to see a ring, aye?” Arlo’s breath catches when I pull a ring from my pocket. The sunlight streaming in through the windows glints off the metal.
“O-oh. Yes, of course. Brilliant, stud!” Arlo takes the ring, running his finger over the intricate knotwork and runes. “It’s beautiful. Where did you get it?”
“Made it myself,” I answer, shrugging in the hope he won’t think much of the color surely showing in my heated cheeks. He doesn’t need to know how I agonized over the ring for hours, getting the fit just right. Carving the runes of protection into the heated metal with such focus made my head hurt. The memories of the ring’s creation still bring a lump to my throat, because the last man who wore this ring was Leif.
“It’s beautiful,” Arlo says softly, then clears his throat. “Creative, talented—you’re quite the keeper, aren’t you?” He laughs, though it sounds forced.
“Arlo!” one of the women calls from outside, waving. “Come and introduce us!”
Arlo slips on the ring and then leans into my space, making my stomach flip. His lips brush over my cheek. “Thank you,” he whispers.
My whole body flushes with heat, and the spot where he kissed me tingles even after he’s pulled away, waving at his family as he steps out.
It’s been so long since I felt my breath catch, my heart skip, and had that exhilarating sensation in my stomach.
It’s like I’ve been frozen in ice all these years and have only now just begun to thaw.
Not because it’s Arlo. No doubt I’d feel the same if anyone kissed me. Aye. That’s it.
I struggle a bit with the damn belt and hit my head on the bloody roof on my way out.
“Gunnar, this is my mum, Natalie. My dad, William. My nan, Patricia.”
