by Ella Fields
“He’s just … hard to describe, but it was weird.”
Miles waited, but I realized I didn’t have much more to tell him, a way to relay all the details in their entirety, so I just shrugged. “Guess it was one of those times when you had to be there. I’ll do him no justice trying to describe it.”
“No justice?” Miles asked with clear humor as he followed me down the hall to our bedroom. “What, is he some kind of comedian?”
“Ha, no.” I put my nail polish away in the en suite bathroom, walking right into Miles’s chest on the way out. “Ugh, you’ll break my nose one of these days. You need more cheeseburgers.”
Arms captured me, hands smoothing up my back and trailing around to my chin to tilt it up. His eyes narrowed as he said, “I don’t know if I like you talking about some kid’s dad for longer than two minutes.”
“Two minutes?” I asked, a little breathless as his thumbs moved to my mouth, teasing the skin under my bottom lip.
“Yeah. Way I see it, anything longer than two minutes, and you’re curious.”
I leaned into him, nipping at his thumb. “Jealous, are we?”
“Hell fucking yes, I am,” he groaned out, dropping his lips to mine.
“You have nothing to worry about,” I said between kisses. “He’s not you, so he’s not my type.”
“Prove it.”
I pushed him back, which only served in pushing me back. Whatever worked. “You stink. Come find me after you’ve showered.”
I ran out of the bedroom before he could catch me, and the sound of the shower turning on a few beats later had me smiling as I opened the fridge.
I’d just taken a sip of bottled water when I heard Miles’s phone ringing from the bedroom. I ignored it until I heard it start again, then I walked back to the bedroom to grab it in case it was a client. Winter had been slow to leave, so Miles said he was taking on any work he could get now that things had thawed and started growing again.
The ringing started again, but I couldn’t see where he’d put his phone. I followed the sound to his nightstand and opened the drawer. There it was, with unknown caller flashing across the screen. I stared at it a second, then decided to answer it.
“Hello, Miles’s phone?” Yeah, I couldn’t think of anything better to say.
A loud silence infiltrated my ears and made my brows lower, then whoever it was on the other end hung up.
Still frowning at the screen, I tossed it back into the drawer right as a set of headlights flashed through the sheer curtains of our bedroom window, which faced the street.
I walked over, shifting them just in time to see a black car drive out of view.
It wasn’t until Miles had thoroughly reminded me why he was the only type I had, then passed out beside me, that I realized the phone I’d answered earlier …
It had a different screen saver and case.
“One sec.” My sister hissed something at one of her kids, then came back. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Just wanted to check in.” I stared through my windshield, the sun highlighting how overdue my car was for a wash.
Hope laughed. “Sure. Still not made any friends in that big city of yours?”
She knew the answer to that. It wasn’t that I hadn’t tried; it was that I was either working or with Miles. Come to think of it, Miles didn’t hang out with the few friends he’d mentioned having either. And my colleagues, as nice as some of them were, were mostly over thirty. Our lives were at different stages, we had little in common, and I was still the new chick on the block.
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Okay,” Hope said. “So ask.”
“Has Jace ever lied to you?”
“Sure, I guess.” Hope was quiet a minute, the sound of my nephews laughing over something in the background reaching my ear. “But I’m guessing this isn’t a ‘no, I didn’t leave the toilet seat up or feed the dog your leftover cereal which in turn gave him diarrhea’ kind of lie?”
My nose crinkled. “He gives Ziggy your cereal? Dogs can’t have dairy.”
“Right? That’s what I said. Anyway, what happened?”
I watched as the last staff members drove away, leaving only the principal’s and janitors’ cars in the lot with mine, and a sleek black Bentley. My tongue trapped and glued to the back of my teeth, the words I needed to say to answer her question wouldn’t budge.
Yes, I was pretty certain Miles had two phones, but no, I still hadn’t broached that fact with him. Maybe it was for work, but I’d never seen it before.
And the car … it was probably just someone driving down the street. The timing of it is what shook me.
I knew I’d sound paranoid. The first thing Hope would say would be to speak to Miles. I needed to, but I couldn’t find the words or the right timing. He’d been so busy with work that when he’d get home, he’d eat, shower, fuck me senseless, and then pass out only to repeat it all over again the next day.
Letting out a shaky exhale, I said, “Don’t worry, I think I’m due for my period maybe.”
Hope asked, “You sure? You can talk to me, you know. God knows how many secrets you kept for me growing up.”
“I know.” I smiled, saying the words. “It’s fine, though, really.”
Hope sighed. “Okay, but if you feel like this again anytime soon, call me. I mean it.”
“Will do. Tell the boys I said hello.”
“Come visit and tell them yourself.”
I laughed, feeling nostalgic for just that, then hung up and slumped back in my seat, closing my eyes.
I startled at the sound of light tapping next to my head and straightened up, taking in my surroundings. Lou Lou’s dad was standing stock-still outside my car, and I quickly glanced at my dash, noting it was almost five. I must’ve dozed a few minutes.
Thomas stepped back when I opened the door. “Do you often fall asleep behind the wheel?”
“I wasn’t driving,” I volleyed, closing the door and folding my arms over my chest. I looked around, finding no sign of Lou Lou. “Where’s Lou Lou?”
“At home. I had a meeting with Mrs. Crawley.”
Trying not to let that rattle me, I nodded. “Everything okay?”
He picked a non-existent piece of lint from his black suit sleeve. “She’ll be moving Jerimiah to a different class if he keeps bothering Lou.”
A part of me was relieved he didn’t rat me out in any way, yet I was still kind of pissed on Jerimiah’s behalf. “That’s not exactly fair. He really is a good kid.”
“A good kid with terrible outbursts, I’m sure.” He retrieved a set of keys from his trouser pocket. “Are you going to answer my question?”
Still reeling from his last statement about Jerimiah, it took me a beat to catch up. “Huh?”
His face crumpled with clear distaste. “I think you meant to say excuse me.”
I couldn’t help it, and a laugh escaped.
His lips twitched, but otherwise, he waited for me to gather some self-control. “Uh, well, I don’t believe you asked a question I haven’t answered, Dr. Verrone.”
“Thomas.” He tilted his head, eyeing my well-loved Corolla before pinning those freezing blues on my face. “And I believe I was enquiring about why you were sleeping in your car two hours after the children have left.” He paused. “You have a home, do you not?”
Who was this guy?
And more importantly, why was I still entertaining him by standing there?
I was too frazzled to answer that, but I did know that, weird guy or not, I wasn’t rude. And the parents here paid a lot of money for their children to attend. I’d have my ass kicked back home if I didn’t watch my attitude and play nice.
“I was on the phone,” I finally relented. “Then I guess I lost track of time.”
Thomas stared, his eyes piercing my browns as though he was trying to look inside my thoughts to find the truth. “You don’t talk on the phone when driving.” He shifted, and I glanced down a
t his expensive looking shoes. “Good.”
Smiling a little, I looked at him once more, taking in the clean-shaven lines of his strong jaw, the lightly tanned skin molded over stark cheekbones, and the thick dark brows that matched his perfectly combed over hair. Pulling a pocket watch out of his jacket, he inspected it, and it was then I noticed he was without his hat.
“Where’s the fedora today?”
He tucked the watch away. “It’s Thursday. Too many things to do on a Thursday.”
“I see, and it’d probably wreck what you have going on”—I gestured with a wave to his perfect hair—“up there.”
A wrinkle of confusion appeared between his thick brows, and he puckered his full lips as he stared at me. “Going on?”
“Your hair,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat. “It’s, um, nice is what I meant to say.”
“You went to college?”
His hard words had me stepping back into my car. “I did, yes.”
“Yet you like to abuse the English language.”
I forced a mock gasp, and he tilted his head again, eyes inquisitive.
“I’m kind of offended. Words are my drug of choice.”
“Drug of choice,” he murmured as if tasting the words to see if he liked them.
“Are you foreign?” I asked. He didn’t have an accent, but curiosity over his distaste for common slang got the better of me.
“Absolutely not,” he said so quickly I almost laughed.
Lifting my hands, I relented. “Yeesh, just asking.”
“You’re a peculiar woman, Little Dove.”
The threat of nightfall had painted the sky orange, pink, and blue. The combination was so striking behind the enigmatic man that I wished I had a camera handy to capture what I saw in front of me.
“As are you.” I quickly amended, “Though not a woman, clearly.”
He smiled. He actually smiled, and the sight was enough to have my bottom lip disconnecting from the top, my mouth agape and heartbeat skipping.
His teeth were perfect, every single one of them, and a glowing white. But it was how his eyes changed from ice to lukewarm pools of water that seized me, imprinting on my retinas.
“You look like you’ve been kicked in the stomach,” he commented, his smile slipping away as fast as it’d appeared.
I shook my head, unable to muster conversation with this fascinating stranger anymore. It was bound to get awkward again, so I chose to bail on a good note.
“I like your pocket watch,” I told him, then climbed back inside my car. “My grandpa had one just like it.” I winked as I closed the door and started the engine. Once I’d backed out, I told myself not to look in the rearview.
Naturally, I did.
He was still standing there, statue still, his blue eyes watching as I sped out of the lot.
The sun hid behind feathered treetops, and I swore my lungs were about to collapse.
Miles pressed on ahead, carrying a large stick in his hand that he used to whack at the brush and thicket. He looked as though he’d only been walking two minutes instead of almost thirty.
“Seriously, why are we doing this again?” I wheezed as we neared the top of a small crest where rocks sat in a small cluster off to the side.
Slumping down onto them, I scrambled for my water bottle. Miles had woken me at dawn, saying we were going on one of his beloved hikes. He’d made me tag along once before, but hiking wasn’t for me. I’d only said yes to this particular excursion because it meant we’d have breakfast with my dad. But after he’d eyed Miles with so much scorn and distrust as he scarfed down runny eggs and soggy toast, I was kind of relieved to leave and hit the woods.
Was.
Miles, not realizing I’d stopped, kept walking, then backtracked. He grinned, tugging at a piece of hair that’d curled around my hairline, no doubt from the exertion I could feel heating every inch of my out-of-shape body. “You said you did this all the time as a kid.”
I swallowed and capped my water bottle, shoving it away even as my tongue and throat ached for more. I’d need to save it, considering we definitely weren’t done yet. “Correction,” I said as I raised a finger, my heart rate finally resuming a normal rhythm. “I wasn’t allowed in this far. I’d get in trouble every time I dared.”
He motioned for us to keep moving, and at the roll of my eyes, he laughed and grabbed my hand in his, heaving me up from the rock. I gave it a longing look as Miles hauled me down the hill and deeper into the forest that bordered my dad’s property.
“You know, couples can have healthy relationships without making one another indulge in each other’s hobbies.”
“We haven’t been hiking together in months,” he said, then stopped, looking east before continuing north again. “I thought you’d like it after hearing you mention playing here as a kid.”
I removed my hand from his, not wanting him to feel the moisture that would no doubt reappear soon. “My lungs and legs didn’t hate me as much as a kid.”
Miles huffed, holding a branch out so it didn’t smack me in the face, and I had to say, if nothing else, it was kind of nice to see those calves of his working. He was like a lion, every movement fluid and powerful, and I was but a meager bird in comparison.
Sighing, I redid my ponytail as we approached a familiar clearing. My feet halted, my heart dunking into my stomach as memories resurfaced.
“You okay?” Miles asked, stopping farther up ahead to stare at the faint cream outline of the castle through the trees. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’m fine, but we should head back. This is private property.”
His eyes narrowed, then dropped to the ground where we were standing as he walked over to me. “We’re already trespassing; let’s just take a little peek.”
“Peeking leads to trouble,” I said, then groaned. “Ugh, I sound just like my freaking dad.”
Miles gently gripped my chin, searching my face. “You’ve been through there, haven’t you?” He smiled as if I was some deviant, and it thrilled him.
I stepped back, causing his hand to fall to his side. “Once or twice.”
He hummed thoughtfully, and my dry throat had me reaching for my water again.
Screw it. If I ran out, I’d drink Miles’s for making me exercise on a Sunday when I could’ve been watching Keeping Up with the Kardashians or, even better, reading.
“Story time,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “And what better time than now.”
Taking a long gulp of water, I slumped to the dirt. “Not much of a story, really.”
Miles joined me, wrapping his arms around his bent knees as he stared through the trees, the May sun unbearably hot on our heads as it blazed through the clearing.
“Tell me anyway.”
Birds called from high above, and I inhaled the scent of damp earth from this morning’s rain. Closing my eyes, I let my mind free fall back, then reopened them and followed his gaze to the castle.
The castle appeared through a gap in the trees up ahead. A soft cream with one milky turret, just like the one in my book.
I snapped the book shut and put it away, excitement carrying my feet faster over the fallen logs. I leaped over holes, ditches, and slinked by thorny trees that snagged my dress.
This was the farthest I’d ever been into the woods that ran alongside our small farm. Daddy always said I couldn’t go in and to only play on the outskirts because there could be snakes and other horrid things inside. Not to mention, I could get lost.
But Daddy was working a double at the station, and Hope had friends over, so she was distracted. No one would even know. Besides, I wouldn’t get lost. I could see the tip of the castle from my bedroom window each night when I counted the stars to help me fall asleep.
I knew the way.
My mom had taught me that. Counting stars. Not that it was hard or anything, but it helped my imagination quiet down, enabling me to fall asleep easier.
She died a year ag
o, not long after my seventh birthday. I’d cried. A lot. But I had to stop crying after a while because Daddy didn’t like it. Hope said it was because he couldn’t cry. He couldn’t get sad like us, so we had to be tough and help him by keeping our tears quiet or by turning them off.
I learned to turn them off, but it took a while.
And my mommy … Before someone crashed into her car, she would always tell me made-up stories about the castle next door. About a prince who lived there with his parents, a gentle king and a wicked queen.
And finally, finally, I got to see it for myself.
Stopping in a small clearing, I wiped drops of sweat from my forehead with the sleeve of my sweatshirt and got my bottle out of my backpack. I took a huge gulp and almost choked when I saw a boy appear from behind a giant, moss-covered rock.
“Go back, little girl.”
“Who you calling a little girl?” I eyed the boy, who couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen years old. Though he was really tall and thin. So maybe to him, I was little.
One side of his mouth lifted as I put my drink bottle away. “You’re the only other human here. Well, of the female variety.”
His voice was croaky, but it wasn’t deep. Hope said a boy became a man when his voice got deep. That made him just as much of a kid as I was. Yet his words sent a bite of fear zooming through my chest. My heart pounded as my throat dried.
His eyes were so bright, and he stood so still, even his hair, as though the breeze floated around him.
“Who are you?”
His head tilted just a fraction. Then he blinked. “It matters not who I am, what matters is that you’re trespassing.”
My hands landed on my hips, one cocking to the side as annoyance melted any fear I had. He was just a boy. A weird, statue-looking, bossy boy. “This is my daddy’s land too.”
He made a tutting sound, which brought back long-lost memories of my mother. She’d make the same noise whenever I was doing something she didn’t approve of or was about to. Like walking inside with muddy boots.
“Your daddy’s land ended a mile back. You’ve come too far, turn around.”