Over the next week, I barely see a trace of him. His ability to avoid me in Soldana and at Dolly’s apparently a faint glimpse of his talent.
One room. We’re in onesingleroom, and he still manages to never be in it at the same time as me while simultaneously lingering in every corner of it.
In every neat little pile of clothes and blankets set out. In every warm meal and pitcher of fresh water left on the table. In every book set out in a place I’ll see it. But perhaps nowhere more so than in the chair that has not moved from the end of the bed.
Oddly enough, I think it’s the chair that does it. That reminds me that while running may be Aiden’s strategy, it has never been mine.
The lanterns in the cabin went out about an hour ago, the light that was streaming out dimming until it’s completely pitch black inside.
I’ve been leaving the windows open in hopes that they’ll let enough moonlight in so that he won’t be afraid if he wakes up in the middle of the night. He hasn’t been. Not yet. Not as long as I’m sitting there by the bed, keeping watch.
Seems to help. Or maybe I just like to tell myself it does.
I know I’m being a coward. Know I need to face him but I don’t know how to tell him one thing without telling him all of it, without asking him for things I have no right to ask, for things I don’t deserve.
I just have to get a grip on things again. Get both my feet back on solid ground, like they haven’t been since I walked into that damn saloon and saw him that first time. I just have to get some control on this...and then we can talk. Have a calm, clear-headed conversation about where we go from here. Have a plan.
I open the door to the cabin and slip inside, my carefulness making me think about that night on the roof and wondering how it could already feel so long ago, wondering, too, when he’ll feel strong enough to try pulling himself up on this one.
I’ll need to check it before he does. Make sure there’s no holes or loose shingles that could hurt him or could hurt me when I once again follow him up there like a goddamn—
“Good evening, wolf.”
I turn on the spot like I just heard someone saydraw, facing the bed in time to see a lantern flare back to life, illuminating both the room and the person sitting in the very chair I had been planning to spend another night in.
“I have to say,” Cypress says, reaching over to set the lantern on the bedside table. “This does alleviate any guilt I might have felt over sneaking into the stable to watch you sleep in Soldana.”
“Didn’t realize you were feeling guilty over that,” I reply, not seeing much point in denying why I’m here.
Apparently he doesn’t either, because he quickly assures me, “Oh, I wasn’t really.”
“Great.” I shake my head, eyes falling to the floor before I finally stop fighting the urge to justlookat him. “See you found the clothes I left for you,” I tell him, noting the head-to-toe black but also the fresh shave and styled hair, and finding comfort he’s looking like himself again. Even if I doubt I look half as good after quickly cleaning up down by the creek. “Sorry to say we used quite a few of both of our shirts for bandages, so you might need to source a few more from whatever undertaker you buy through.”
He smiles slowly, although the fact that he doesn’t further take my bait has me shifting my weight from foot to foot. “Are you all right? You hurtin’ at all?”
“No, no, good as new.”
“Are you sure? There’s some salve there on the bedside if—”
“This really is a nice chair,” he continues, abruptly taking the conversation in an unexpected direction. “Not as comfortable as the bed, but…” He tilts his head, and I could swear he appears more amused with me than angry. Heshouldbe angry. “I noticed there are three.”
I frown, confused. “Three what?”
“Three chairs.”
“Yes,” I say slowly, worried now he’s not entirely level-headed.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why three?”
“Because…that was how many I thought I needed?” I respond. “Why are you asking me about chairs?”
“You thought you neededthree? Interesting. Not two? Or four?”
“Are you sure—”