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She Called the Darkness Home

Page 54

by Grace Ivy Hall

But Iris deserved so much more than a phantom of a man who had lived too long and seen too little, a man too inhuman for a soul so good.

Blair’s eyes fluttered closed as he forced out the words. “You deserve someone better.”

“But I want you.”

Time froze and the world tilted as Iris pressed her lips to his, sealing her promise. And the hundreds of novels he’d read, the times he’d allowed his treacherous mind to wander and imagine a future he knew he’d never have, everything shattered, disintegrating before him and replaced with a feeling so real, so raw, it took his breath away.

He tried to focus on the softness of her lips as they brushed against his, the feel of her hands on his face, in his hair—but panic set in as he realized that his own hands were limp at his sides, and that couldn’t be right, they should be somewhere else, and wasn’t this supposed to come naturally? Wasn’t this something he shouldn’t have to think about?

As Iris’ lips trailed along his jaw, Blair’s hands raised as though they were foreign bodies and came to rest on her arms. He realized with humiliation that he was shaking, and she had to feel it.

“You don’t have to be perfect, Blair.” Her voice was barely a whisper against his skin. “Just be here with me.”

And he promised himself he would try, he had to try, had to push past the fear that had always held him back, a brick wall that needed to be scaled, blasted through, knocked down to rubble.

Because he had lived five lifetimes, but in that moment he realized he had never really lived at all.

Iris kissed him again and Blair’s hands miraculously found their way into the smooth dark curls of her hair. She trailed her mouth across his cheek, her smile tickling his ear. “Is it faster now?”

His head swam with the scent of her, vanilla and mint, and a strong heartbeat thrummed within him, emanating from his chest but radiating throughout his entire being. “I think so,” he breathed, feeling strangely disembodied. This couldn’t possibly be his life. “But I can’t tell for sure.”

“Why not?”

He blushed as she raised her eyes up to his, her hands tangled in his hair. “I can’t tell our heartbeats apart anymore.”

Iris smiled, wrapping her arms around his back. She held onto him like he was an anchor in a storm-tossed sea, something stable that she could depend on.

And he promised himself that whatever happened, he would do everything he could to become the man she believed he already was.

22

Where is your head today?” Li teased, lightly whacking Iris’ shoulder with a manilla envelope.

“Sorry.” Iris winced, reaching down to gather up the patient files that had slipped out of her arms and now lay scattered like ransom notes across the floor. She glanced nervously into the staff room where most of their coworkers were currently spending their lunch break.

“I’ve tried to discourage the rumors,” said Li, leaning back in her leather chair and lowering her voice so only Iris could hear. “But there’s only so much I can do.”

Their company had always been prone to gossip, spurred on by a couple of the nosier hygienists. Until recently, petty office scandals discussed over stale coffee and microwaved leftovers had never exactly bothered her. As long as she ate her lunch outside or at the front counter, she could avoid it easily enough. It wasn’t as if any of the gossip was ever connected to her.

Until she’d arrived back to work that morning, the day after New Year’s. Now, even avoiding the staff room wasn’t enough to keep from overhearing rumblings about Iris’ crazy friend from Vitford First Night, the story circulating through the office like a festering mold. She suspected April, one of the junior hygienists, was behind a lot of it.

“Ignore them,” Li said, flicking her hand toward the room as she helped Iris re-alphabetize the pile. Iris was grateful; she was hoping to have everything organized before the patients scheduled for afternoon appointments filtered in. “I always do. I’ll have you know, I was an excellent asset to your grandmother back in the day as well.”

One of the papers fluttered back to the floor as Iris turned to her in surprise. “Really?”

Li nodded. “There were rumors floating around about her son, your father, from time to time. I took care of them.”

Iris raised her eyebrows. Li was her closest companion at work, someone Iris considered a friend, but her candor was still unexpected. Even in Vitford—Rhode Dentistry was in Martenshire, the next town over—Iris had rarely heard anyone speak about her father, who she understood had kept to himself and rarely showed his face around town, unless you counted the local liquor store.

“I never knew my grandmother,” Iris admitted quietly. Doctor Sumpter’s office was right behind them, and she would rather neither of the dentists learned her secret, since she had been hired under the assumption that as Abigail’s granddaughter, Iris would hopefully possess a similar disposition and work ethic.

It struck her now that they may have also felt sorry for her for having such a deadbeat dad.

Yet it was because of Abigail that Iris had been able to keep what was now her home. Her father was months behind on his mortgage payments when he’d died, and it was only with her grandmother’s inheritance that Iris had been able to stop her house from being reclaimed by the bank.

Li didn’t seem particularly surprised by Iris’ confession. Iris supposed that Abigail had never mentioned having a granddaughter, and Li was aware that Iris hadn’t grown up in the area.

“You would have liked her,” said Li.