Shockwaves of heat and hatred.
Yet, it was chills that flashed across her skin when he leaned in closer, the boy so much taller than she was, casting her in shadow, his breath brushing across the shell of her ear. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’?”
Shivers rolled, and her heart sped. She fumbled with her backpack strap. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He laughed a hard sound. “Really. So that sandwich and milk just up and appeared at my table. Like magic.”
She dropped her head forward, giving, because it was stupid to deny it. “I just thought you might be hungry.”
A scraping sound came from his throat, sliding over her like a threat she somehow wanted to hold.
To turn around and see what it might look like coming from his mouth.
“Mind your own damn business. I don’t need your pity or anyone else’s. I can take care of myself.”
She frowned, her teeth clamping in refusal, her courage flaring as she peeked at him over her shoulder.
He was right there.
The sharp lines and curves of his handsome face so close she could hike up onto her toes and press her nose to them. Feel them. Skin to skin. “Maybe I was just tryin’ to be nice.”
“Maybe you’re puttin’ your nose where it shouldn’t be.”
A flush rushed to her cheeks. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d known what she’d just been thinkin’, how she was imagining what it might feel like to trace his features.
For him to trace hers.
To breathe him in like she was achin’ to do.
A shudder flashed.
What was wrong with her?
She spun all the way around and took a step back, lifting her chin in a show of defiance, needing to put some space between them. “Maybe you shouldn’t be such a jerk.”
His brows lifted, which only made those copper eyes appear bigger. Like they might gobble her up.
“And maybe you shouldn’t be such a little priss.”
Offense dropped her jaw. “I’m not a priss.”
“No?” he challenged.
She straightened her shoulders. “No.”
His eyes moved down her body, over her summer dress, which was hardly as scandalous as half the girls around here got away with wearing.
But her shoulders were bare, the bit of her exposed chest heating with a blush as his gaze traveled over her body.
She was right.
Those eyes could devour her.
She gulped, only for her mouth to run dry when he brought his stare back to hers.
“Looks like it to me,” he said, but his voice had gone somewhere else.
Deeper and darker.
Faith shook. “I need to get to the library.”
He laughed a disbelieving sound and took his own step back, as if he needed the space, too.
Or maybe she just repulsed him.
But when he looked at her again, there was something sad in his eyes. “Go on. Good girls like you don’t need to be hanging around with boys like me.”
Unsure if it was meant to be an insult or a compliment, Faith dropped her gaze to her feet, hiked her backpack up higher on her shoulder, and started up the sidewalk.
She didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or angry.
She really was just trying to be nice.
She’d almost made it around the building when he called out to her. “Faith.”
A quiver rolled through her. Like the piercing of an arrow.
She didn’t really know why it was so impactful that he knew her name. Why it made her feel the way it did, as if she’d just stumbled onto the missing piece of her life.
She slowly turned around to face him.
He was running his hand nervously through his unruly hair.
“Thank you,” he said roughly, nodding slowly, as if he were having to process the fact that he’d even said it.
“You’re welcome,” she answered, full of honesty.
He rocked a little, as agitated as a summer storm coming in the distance.
Faith’s spirit thrashed, sure that was exactly what he was.
Fourteen
Faith
Mack had just left a few minutes before. He’d assured me they’d amp up the security before he’d told me almost reluctantly that it was a good idea that Jace was moving in.
Was it?
Because I was trembling like mad as I ripped the sheets off the bed.
It wasn’t as if they’d been used since I’d changed them a few weeks ago, but I needed to do something with my hands.
Quickly, I put on the fresh sheets, hands trembling as I tucked them into the mattress.
This was such a terrible idea.
I mean, seriously, Jace Jacobs was staying here. In the room right next to mine.
So stupid.
The hardest part was knowing it would be stupid to turn him away.
To disregard what he was offering.
I gave myself a sharp shake of my head as I dragged the comforter toward the massive headboard, thinking of how my dreams undulated like a flag blown in the wind.
Twisting this way and that, my hopes rising and falling and whipping and howling.
When we’d lost Joseph, they had gone straight to the backburner, someday drifting farther and farther away.
It was hard to admit it, but because of Jace’s generosity, that someday felt as if it’d gotten one day closer.
His promise to watch over us and start working on the house while he was here was the kind of proposal only a fool would refuse.
Of course, I’d had to sell my soul to the devil to make that happen.
I just prayed Joseph wouldn’t think it wrong. That he wasn’t somewhere, caught between heaven and hell, judging the choices I was making now.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I lifted my face toward the ceiling, and whispered, “I’m doing my best.”
Would he understand that?
And had he done his best?
My heart clenched with the thought, and I let myself get lost in the memories as I went to the antique dresser to dust it.
I’d felt as if I’d won the lottery when Joseph had come home on that night a few months before Bailey was born and gave me the news that he’d purchased this house.
I’d been awed and humbled and grateful beyond measure that he’d worked so hard to give me something he knew I’d wanted so desperately.
One of the best things about the house was that it’d come with the furnishings. Every room was fully furnished, the ornate, handmade pieces that had been left behind by the previous owners teeming with history and charm, perfect accents already in place.
At one point, this room had been painted a dark blue, though it’d faded and chipped.
The wallpaper, which someone had to have put up sometime in the seventies, was peeling, and the worn wooden floors were in dire need of a good sanding and staining.
But other than that, it was in fairly good shape, which was the reason I’d picked it.
Well, that and as I’d nervously flitted from room to room, trying to picture where in the world I was supposed to put the man, my child had claimed, “Bwew is for boys. This room, Mommy.”
It’d been decided.
Now, I was questioning how in the world I’d agreed to let him stay in the room right next to mine.
That was nothing but a disaster waiting to happen.
I tipped the polish onto the rag and began to wipe down the aged, darkened wood, every stroke brightening the dresser to a gleaming sheen.
I quickly wiped down the bronze handles and tugged open the drawers to make sure they weren’t providing shelter to a dust bunny or two.
I made it through the top row and started on the lower, only to pause in surprise after I’d tugged one open.
Inside was a key.
An old, ornate, antique key.
But it was the thick piece of parchment paper folded in half underneath that sent nerves skittering across my flesh.
I could have sworn I’d been through these drawers before and this hadn’t been here. Was sure this wasn’t a relic left from centuries ago to tease us with a love that once was.
It was funny how it almost felt that way, though. As if I were reaching out to touch something in the distance.
Something lost.
A whisper of a memory.
My pulse beat a sluggish cadence of sorrow as I pulled the note free.
Our anniversary had only been a week away, and I was bettin’ he’d hidden this here.