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“Why?” she repeated. “Oh, why talk to Loki? He handles that kind of stuff for me.”
There was a weighted silence.
“Oh, I need to tell you where I live.” Damn it, why wouldn’t her brain work properly?
“Know where you live.”
“You do?” Why would he know where she lived?
Probably because he watches you all the time.
Should she be afraid of him? More than likely. But her radar on what should frighten her had always been a bit off.
What scared her the most wasn’t even something she could see or fight.
She was totally screwed up.
“You’re close,” he said. “The two of you.”
“Very.”
“Like brother and sister?” he asked.
“Here’s the driveway,” she said instead. She didn’t want to answer that, because she didn’t know quite what to say.
Did she love Loki in the same way she did her brothers?
No.
Loki was her life. She loved him beyond words. Those years while he was in the armed forces were the toughest of her life. Yes, she’d had her amazing friends, but it was as though a big part of her was missing.
Then when he’d come back . . . he’d been so different. He was Loki. Wild and crazy. Unpredictable. Sometimes fun.
But in there was her Lachie. Thoughtful. Kind. And so, she loved both parts of him.
Unrequited love sucked.
“Why are there no lights on?” he asked as he parked.
“Oh, Loki isn’t here.”
“You shouldn’t tell me that.”
“Huh? Why not?” she asked.
“Because I’m a strange man.”
“Yeah. You are a little different. You don’t talk much. In fact, I’ve rarely seen you talk to anyone. But you’re always at the Wishing Well. You don’t have a drinking problem, do you?”
“No. Might develop one, though.”
“Why would you want to develop one?” she asked.
“I don’t. But I might need a drink to try and give me some patience.”
She was so confused. She rubbed her forehead, wishing her headache would go away.
“You shouldn’t tell people you don’t know very well that you’re home alone.”
