by Rue Volley
I looked upward and gritted my teeth, determined to get to the top. “Well, let’s get this kitty down.”
“What’s her name?” I asked as he climbed behind me.
“Marilyn,” he called out from below.
I laughed. “Not the cat—your sister.”
“Darling.”
I paused while glancing down. “What?” His odd word of endearment confused me.
He grinned. “Darling Porter. That’s her name. I call her Arling, she hates the D. It drives my dad nuts, he always corrects me, but it makes my sister laugh.”
I offered a tight-lipped smile. I understood her rebellion. I insist on using the J after Harper. I hope to write someday, and if I ever see my name on a book, it will most certainly appear that way.
“Jay. J.A.Y.” I muttered.
“What?”
I called down to him. “Jay. That’s what the J stands for. It’s my middle name. My mom loves Jay Birds.”
My foot slipped, and he caught it, then moved up to steady me against the side of the atrium. His body felt cool, like the wind, but I could still tell the difference.
I could just see it now—girl dies trying to save cat for a boy that she thinks is really cute.
“You think I’m cute?” he asked behind me. “You said that out loud,” he added.
The blood rushed to my cheeks.
I cleared my throat and took another step, but I slipped and started to fall with a yelp. A steady hand caught mine, while I dangled there from the side of the atrium. I looked down. Bad idea. It blurred my vision.
I looked back up as he fought to hang onto the edge of the roof. He lifted me up until I could grab onto the side of the roof myself. His strength surprised me. I swallowed hard as he climbed on top and took my hand, pulling me up and against him. The wind caught my hair, and he stepped behind me, holding on as I stood at the edge and stared out across the town. I could see the tops of houses sticking up between the trees. I could even see some of the cemetery. My favorite one. The place where we met. He leaned in behind me, and I nearly fell, so he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me back against him. I didn’t fight it, but my heart leaped into my throat. He felt cold, but it warmed him.
“It’s beautiful.” I spoke with sincerity because it was. I had always loved Juniper Hollow, but seeing it like this was different.
“Not as much as y—”
A welcomed interruption rubbed against my leg before I had the chance to turn and do the one thing that I wanted more than anything else—to kiss him.
“Oh,” I looked down and spotted the cat. I leaned in and picked it up. Everything seemed fine at first until I sneezed, she hissed, and Killian had to take her from me. I grinned as he held the cat against his chest, cradling it like a small child.
He was so nurturing. It only made me like him more.
He whispered something to the cat, and she began to purr. I stared longer than I needed to until he caught me. “Well, I guess I should get her home,” he said.
I nodded just as I heard my dad’s voice. “Harper, what in the name of all that’s holy are ya doin’ up there?”
I sucked in my breath as I leaned forward. My dad smiled, but it quickly faded when Killian leaned next to me. “Do you think ya could give me my daughter back?”
Killian grimaced, and so did I.
Uh oh.
Chapter Twelve
My mom set a cup of tea on the table in front of me and then added a second for Killian, although he had respectfully passed on it when she offered. My dad sat across from us as I reached in and placed the cup to my lips. The steam felt nice against my skin and helped me breathe. Marilyn hadn’t done me any favors. I had sneezed five more times after we climbed down from the rooftop. My dad had stood at the bottom with his arms outstretched like I’d surely fall. I may have surprised him, and myself, when I hadn’t.
Something about Killian made me feel more confident. Steadier. Different. I both loved and hated it. Change isn’t something I naturally accept, but with him, I was willing to try.
I caught myself gawking at him and then noticed that my dad was staring at me. How embarrassing. I reached up and rubbed the side of my neck while eyeing the floor.
The kitchen felt much warmer now after my dad had thoughtfully filled the corner stove with chunks of wood. We only take what we need here in the forest, and of course, we plant a tree for every one that’s taken.
It’s a rule — a good one.
The sweet scent of wood surrounded us as I decided to take a sip. It was hot against my tongue, but the honey helped my throat, quilling the ache that had returned. The funny thing was, I didn’t notice it when Killian and I were alone. It’s like he made me feel better. All of me. Heart, body, and soul.
Distractions are wonderful, but I felt like he was more than that now.
It scared me, forcing a knot to form in the pit of my stomach.
What did that mean, exactly? Would I be changing now? Would everything change? I don’t want that. Not really. It scared me.
Fitting Killian into my life would be difficult without giving up time with certain things—like my friends, my family—even my books. I wish I could stop evaluating everything. I need to. It feels like I want to sabotage things before they even begin.
I adjusted in my chair and set my cup down. Killian didn’t touch his drink. My dad drummed his fingers against the hardwood.
“Do you not like tea?” my dad asked.
Killian parted his lips, but my dad didn’t let him answer. “My wife made that for you.”
“Dad,” I spoke softly, begging for mercy. It helped a little bit. He could tell he was embarrassing me. I often blush when I am. It worked in my favor for a few seconds. I honestly believed he might just let Killian go without the need to warn him.
But he continued to glare at Killian.
“So, what were ya’ doin’ up there?” my dad asked. Killian fingered at the cup. I know he didn’t want it, so this was just a blatant display of nerves. I could relate.
I really don’t know what I expected. My dad, although easy-going, is still my dad and very protective. I don’t fault him for it, but it made me uneasy as he stared Killian down like the enemy.
I interjected. “Marilyn was on the roof.”
My dad frowned. “Who?”
“The cat—his cat. Well, technically, it’s Darling’s cat, his little sister, who prefers to be called Arling, because she hates the D, but it drives his dad crazy.”
Both Killian and I glanced at each other. He seemed happy that I remembered all of the details. But of course I would. I’m an avid reader. What are books, if not an information dump designed for us to sift through and memorize? That’s the fun part, other than the glorious twists and turns.
“Thank you for clarifyin’, Harper. I’m so glad to know this about the boy.”
“And J is for JayBird because it’s your mother’s favorite bird,” Killian said as he grinned at me.
My dad rolled his eyes and pointed at his mouth. “Why are ya bleedin’?”
I swallowed hard and piped in. “That’s because I hit him with a shovel.”
My dad grinned. I didn’t. “Good for you, little one.”
“Dad,” I spoke up again. He hadn’t called me little one since I was five. Clearly, he was on a mission to make Killian leave and never come back. I really didn’t want that—now or ever.
My mom sat down and shook her head, bringing with her a cup of her own.
“Stop it, Evan.” She leaned toward Killian and placed a hand on his arm. His eyes followed, nearly lighting up as she held onto him. His reaction to touch is both intriguing and endearing.
“We don’t condone violence in this house unless it’s in self-defense.”
“Or the twins are trying to take me down,” I muttered.
She tilted her head. I sighed. “Okay, fine. Not even then. No violence.” I waved a hand.
My dad slapped a hand to his knee. “
Now wait a darn minute—I want to know why Harper felt compelled to whack this boy in the mouth with a shovel.”
I adjusted in my chair, forcing it to creak. “I was reading—or about to read—in the atrium.” I glanced at it then back to him, “and I saw something outside the window. A shadow. So, I grabbed the shovel and went outside to see who or what it was.”
“Oh, Harper, seriously?” she asked. “Don’t you know how dangerous that could’ve been?”
“Now love, let’s give the girl some credit! She didn’t back down, and that’s how we raised ya,” he said as he eyed Killian. “To defend yourself from harm.”
Killian shook his head. “I promise you I’d never hurt her—ever, not in a million years.”
The conviction in his tone forced me to blush again. My dad wasn’t amused.
“Well, that’s dried up like a nun’s tit.”
My mom’s voice went up a full octave. “Evan!”
She turned to face Killian again after scowling at my dad. “He means useless, as crude as it sounded.” She swatted at my dad, who grinned with a slight lean, rendering her attempt at correcting him useless. It was nice that my parents had such a great relationship, but this—this was just awkward. Killian should apologize, or fake an illness! Either may get him out of my house and away from this situation.
My mom found it necessary to intervene. “He was saving a cat.”
“Ah, yes, a real hero, this one,” my dad muttered.
My mom stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder, which seemed to calm him down. He cradled her small hand in his, then kissed it, allowing his lips to linger. Their PDA never bothered me, because it had been happening for as long as I could remember, but Killian noticed this romantic gesture and brushed the side of his leg against mine. I tensed up.
“That’s what I want, a relationship like yours. I envy that.” Killian startled me with his admission. “My mom passed away right after my sister was born. I don’t remember much about her, but I know my dad loved her, and that’s why we moved here, to Juniper Hollow.”
My mom felt the need to chime in. “Oh, you sweet boy.” Her eyes softened with pity.
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.
My dad adjusted in his chair. “Moved here, why?”
My mom squeezed his shoulder. “Evan.” Her tone slightly stern, so he quickly clarified. “I just want to know what the boy meant.”
Killian swallowed hard, and his jaw tensed. “He thought that he could commune with her here.”
We all stared at him in silence. I know what he meant. We are the most haunted town in the world, but I’d never known of anyone moving here so they could talk to someone who had died. It was so, so—
My mom and I spoke at the same time. “So romantic.”
Killian’s shaky laugh drifted around the room. “My dad is a hopeless romantic, so that’s very accurate. But he thought maybe, well, maybe he could contact her here. He only wanted to see her again.” The vulnerability in his tone made him that much more endearing.
“Aw, love.” My mom reached in and moved his bangs out of his eyes, watching him with such concern.
My dad spoke with eyes unblinking. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. A boy should have his mother, but the dead don’t talk to anyone here unless you call static on the radio a conversation.”
“Evan, be nice! The poor thing is without his mother, and his father sounds just lovely.”
At this point, the conversation had gone well beyond me—beyond the fact that Killian was here, or that I was on the roof with him. Even the cat no longer mattered.
I felt terrible for him and his little sister. I can’t imagine being without my mom. I glanced at mine and appreciated her even more. How would life be without her? Terrible, I would imagine. My breathing eased, knowing that she was right here—and always would be.
The silence sat between all of us for a bit longer than I liked. I glanced at Killian, he attempted a smile, his teeth so even and white. I could look at him all day, every day. These small bits of information that he so graciously shared—when he didn’t have to—just made him more appealing to me.
Had he done it to get me out of trouble, or was this his way of wanted me to know him better? Either way, it was working — all of it.
Killian reached under the table, and I felt his fingers brush against mine. I froze. Then he slid his hand into mine. It rested there like it was meant to be. It just fit, when so many other things never have. A gasp slipped from my lips. I really didn’t know what to do. Was he really holding my hand? My parents are right there, across the table from us. So close. He was playing with fire, but the excitement lingered through me. I scouted an escape, planning two steps ahead, because if my dad caught us, well—he’d freak, and there would be nothing my mom could do to calm him down.
“Just one moment.” My mom spoke with the snap of her fingers, heading toward the pantry. She rummaged through the shelves until she found whatever she was looking for. She returned with a small cotton bag in her hand, tied securely at the top. She began to hand it to him and then sniffed the air. “Oh! No. Not this one. This is ashwaganda.” The giggling continued while she leaned in toward us. “It’s an herb for male productiveness. That’s not what we need, now is it? Oh, no. Not yet—not till after the wedding.”
I jerked my hand away from Killian’s.
Wedding? What? Productiveness?
She means—oh, no. Nope. Is she serious? Why would she say that?
My dad rolled his eyes and snatched the bag from her hand. She laughed and returned to the pantry while I tried to hide my shock. Dad leaned in toward Killian. “This is a no-fly zone. Any more visits outside the front door will be met with artillery. You get me?”
Killian’s eyes widened just as my mom returned with another bag. “Here. Oh, wait!” she snatched it back right before he could take it from her. “This is butcher’s broom, for those nasty little down unders—you know, hemorrhoids. You don’t have those do you?” her eyes lowered just as I pulled him away from the table. I get it now. They plan to run him off. They’re working as a team.
Nothing he said mattered to them. Nothing at all! They had gone into survival mode, circling the wagons around me. I was mortified.
I walked Killian to the door as fast as I could. Innis and Gunn giggled while playing on the staircase. “Hemwoids,” Innis yelled out from behind us. His high pitch left my ears ringing.
I may die then die again.
I pressed my open palm against Killian’s chest and moved him backward. “You have to leave; this is a well-organized plan of attack. You won’t survive it. Trust me.”
Killian parted his lips as I backed him out the front door.
My mom came rushing toward us. “Here! Use this aloe. It will help clear up that diseased lip of yours.”
I slammed the door and turned to face her. “I hit him with a shovel!”
“With good reason,” she added, resting a firm hand on the side of her hip.
My dad leaned in the doorway with feet crossed as well his arms. A look of satisfaction slid over his face like a smug veil.
I love them both, but right now, I could scream.
Chapter Thirteen
“He did what?” GG asked, wide-eyed, in total shock.
Liv stared at his nails and then looked up at her.
“Say something,” she added, but he seemed disinterested, which was odd for him. Usually, he’s the first to jump all over any drama, effectively bringing the excitement to new heights. But not this time. He seemed preoccupied.
He spoke with a smooth roll of his hand. “I’m thinking about painting my nails. Would someone show me how, please? I’m thinking black, but I don’t want them all sloppy, and I just know I’ll go outside the lines.” GG’s lips sat agape. “Fine. It can be clear. I don’t care.” He added like she was worried about his fingers just as much as he was.
She rolled her eyes. “Did you hear what Harper just told us!? The cat, the
almost kiss. The ambush. The fact that Killian’s mom is dead and his dad—oh his poor sweet dad.” She looked at me. “So romantic, right?”
I interrupted her. “There was no almost anything.”
She went on without me. “And what her parents did. I’d be mortified! Dead! Just dead!”
She was right; I was.
I leaned against the shelf in the bookstore. We had been in The Book Cellar for over ten minutes, and I had nothing in my hands. That alone should have signified how troubled I was. I usually had five books by then, and I’m desperately trying to decide what to buy with my limited budget.
My parents gave me a few dollars to spend. It felt like a bribe after what they did. It was, but I took it without shame. I would never turn down money for books regardless of what panicked state of mind I may be in.
And I am panicked.
I tugged at my earlobe while my eyes darted around the room. No one had even greeted us when we entered the store, which was odd. There was this girl with long pink pigtails and a mouthful of braces who always seemed to be working, but she was nowhere to be found. I shook it off. It wasn’t my main concern.
Killian was.
Liv had chimed back in with a cryptic warning. “Well, you better watch out.”
Court jolted upright and asked what he meant before I had the chance to say anything. “For what, Oliver? More romantic gestures?”
It felt good to hear someone—anyone—defend him.
He ran his hand across a few cracked spines then plucked at his cuff. “That’s exactly what I mean, and would it be so hard for you to call me Liv? I prefer it.”
GG placed her arm over my shoulder, and we both waited for an explanation. Liv grabbed a book, and GG removed it from his hand and put it back on the shelf. “No—explain.” She insisted. My eyebrows rose, and he bit his lip while his eyes lit up with mischief. Unlike me, Oliver Millhousen loves attention. He definitely wanted to say something. Something he felt was significant.