Page 167

Now I wonder if it means finding somewhere—or someone—you don’t have to run from.

The thought hits harder than it should.

I look away for three seconds.

Then I look back.

She’s still there, unaware of the man watching her from the shadows.

Good.

Let her have the night. Let her be whatever the fuck she wants when nobody is watching.

Something stirs inside me, something I thought I’d killed a long time ago.

Wonder.

It’s the same feeling I had the night I watched her stand in the snow, holding her phone above her head like she was personally offended that the weather refused to obey her.

I watched her from the shadows then, too.

Fuck.

The world seems to stop when she slows near the center of the lake and looks up at the moon.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

There goes that ache again.

Fucking heart.

She starts skating, and moonlight catches in her white hair, making her look almost otherworldly as snowflakes dance around her.

I think of the old tale of the Moon and the Wanderer.

The winter moon is ancient and rare. It belongs to no one.

Gorgeous, untouchable and impossible to keep.

“What the fuck is wrong with me?” I whisper.

Somewhere along the way, watching her has become easier than looking away.

And that’s the fucking problem.

An ice princess like her isn’t supposed to matter to me. She’s temporary. A beautiful, infuriating inconvenience trapped in my house because of a snowstorm.

Eventually, she’ll leave.

That’s all.

Then she laughs.

She. Fucking. Laughs.