Leaning up, I stare down into his eyes as he gazes up at me from the floor.
“I don’t just love you,” I confess, ignoring the shakiness in my voice. “I’m in love with you.”
His body tenses for a second, and I start to regret the words. But suddenly I’m being flipped onto my back and he comes down on top of me. At thirteen, I’ve just started realizing the new way my body responds to him, and heat floods through me, making me regret pajama pants instead of shorts when I start worrying about breaking out into a sweat.
His eyes study mine, and I don’t look away.
“I’m in love with you too, Mika. Have been. Always will be.”
The thunder claps, snapping me out of old memories, and I shrink against the couch, hearing it roar across the sky next. If I wouldn’t feel utterly ridiculous about it, I would cover my head with the blanket.
I forgot how nasty the summer storms could get here. Tree limbs slap the side of the house, sounding like claws slicing and trying to break in. Vivid images assault me… images of the trees actually growing claws. I’ll put that in one of my paranormal murder/mysteries.
Something pounds heavily against the door, and I squeal while cursing my inner girl.
Jumping up, I move to the door, peeking out the window. I’m met with a set of blue eyes that are staring into mine as the rain blows in on the porch. He’s soaked, and staring, and I go to war with the voice in my head that tells me to leave him out there.
Taking a deep, painful breath, I open the door, and rain blows inside before he gets in. I actually struggle to get the door shut against the wind, and he leans over me, pushing it closed with one hand beside my head.
I feel a drop of water fall on my shoulder just as a warm breath heats me through my hair. My entire body goes stiff as Chase stays close to my back. Too close.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, staring at the door and ignoring the way his hand feels when it moves and comes to rest on my hip.
The front of his head rests against the back of my head, and I remain frozen. Why is he touching me?
“Storms scare you,” he says softly, as if that explains everything.
Pushing his hand away from my side, I turn to face him, leaning back against the door to distance our bodies.
He shifts back and clears his throat.
“That doesn’t explain why you’re here,” I say quietly.
His hair is soaked, and he shrugs while brushing some of the wet hair off his forehead.
“Your brother and Moose Knuckle are gone, and there’s a hell of a storm outside.”
Moose Knuckle?
He seems taller when he’s standing right in front of me, and I have to keep my head tilted back to see into his eyes. They’re not cold today. They look haunted and conflicted more than anything.
“So?”
He looks a little lost for some reason.
“So I didn’t want you to have to sit through it alone in case the—”
The lights die instantly as a wave of silence slips over the house, and he looks around before finishing his sentence.
“—power goes out. Looks like I guessed right.”
His eyes come back down to meet mine, and I take a step to the right. There’s still a little light outside that’s coming in through the windows, but that will be gone soon and it’ll be pitch black in here.
I don’t want to be alone in the storm with no power. Call me a baby, but this shit isn’t cool.
“You can stay. But you sit on a different piece of furniture and you can’t touch me.”
His lips twitch, and he pockets his hands.
“Got any flashlights?” he asks.
“I have four flashlights. I have zero batteries to go in them.”
He laughs under his breath.
“What happened to always stocking up on the necessities? You used to be a little crazy about having extra of everything.”
I tense, but he doesn’t notice as he pulls a candle off my table. I used to be a control freak. It’s a far cry from crazy. He hasn’t seen crazy.
Explaining to him that I can’t buy things in excess anymore isn’t an option. Running out of things happens often. Aidan will have to replace the batteries, because that’s something that seems to be a trigger for me. I can’t shop for very many things.
“Um… Things changed,” I mutter.
“So I’ve noticed.”
He turns back around, and his eyes move from my head to my toes in a slow, deliberate motion. I swallow the lump in my throat and head into the living room, tripping over one of my stray shoes in the way. Away from the windows, it’s a lot darker, and I fumble around to sit down.
Something clicks a few times, and I look over as Chase walks toward me with a lit candle in his hand.
“I have no matches and no lighters. How’d you do that?”
“Magic,” he gasps, then snickers under his breath when I roll my eyes. “I always have a knife and a lighter on hand. You used to collect matches. What happened to that?”