Chapter fifteen
“Isaid, okay.”
I touched Emma’s shoulder; I was not expecting such an immediate,yes,to my request.
“I thought I misheard you,” I said. Was it possible I was getting through to her? My heart beat faster, a lightness filled me.
“I cannot help the fact that I misshismelody. Maybe if you don’t murder anyone, we can try this out.” She shrugged and kept walking.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, I worried over what to say. Fumbling with my phone like a fool, I texted Aiden when we stood outside of my car. I told him to leave for the afternoon.
“I want to show you my house,” I finally said as we got into the car, and I placed my hands on the steering wheel.
“Yourhouse?” she asked as I backed out of the parking spot before I lost my nerve. Why in all the realms was I filled with worry? Shad had made my melody such a sucker for her that he let it affect him physically, which is why I supposed I was experiencing what I was. For that time my heart felt as if it wouldexplode from my chest. Was this joy or anticipation? I despised it. I cleared my throat.
“Yes, it’s a little further out, on the outskirts of town.” We drove down the narrow highway for about twenty minutes in silence, even our melodies. I shielded my melody on purpose from her. I could not let her see all the vulnerability inside of me. We pulled up to the familiar long, rocky drive with my large wooden lodge nestled within the forest of trees.
“Wow, this is where you live? Did you murder the owners or something?”
I smiled and feigned confidence. “Of course not, Emma. They just mysteriously disappeared, leaving the deed in my name,” I said. We got out of the car, standing on the gravel drive. She seemed nervous—on edge. It appeared I was not the only one with intense emotions, although I was sure mine were not the same.
“So, this is where I have lived for the last year and a half or so.”
“What? You have lived here that long?” she asked, looking at me with such fear in her eyes that it was palpable.
“Come, sweetheart, there is much to tell you.” I reached for her hand, but she crossed her arms. It seemed she needed more time before hand-holding. I slid my hands in my pockets.
I opened the front door to the large entryway. It had a double-door entrance, which led to another double-door entrance. The walls were painted white, and my own photographs from my years spent on earth were framed with lights shining down on them. I’d visited an art gallery during one of my first days on earth, and I loved it. I watched as Emma looked around. We entered the main living area of the house, which was dressed in a mixture of whites, blacks, and the warmth of natural pine wood. The entire vaulted ceiling was made up of rustic logs, and one of my favorite features was how spacious the room felt, not cramped, not confining at all. And the windows, they reachedfrom the top of the vaulted ceiling, all of the way to the floor. They were framed in black.
“Not what you were expecting?” I asked, taking her coat swallowing hard.Blast this ridiculous soul.
“Not exactly,”
“I like nature,” I said as I watched her walk to the large windows and reach out to touch the cool glass. Her hand left a mark from its warmth.
“I can see that,” she said again, not looking at me.
I walked over to the counter, to a wet bar, which was incredibly useful in my state of unease. I grabbed a chilled bottle of water for her. Maybe that would help ease her discomfort as well as my own.
“What did you want to show me?” she asked.
“Just this, my house; it's a good look into who I really am.” I paused, looking at the windows. “I like the windows, letting the outside in. I spent a lot of my youth indoors, and it is nice to have views of beauty all around me—for a change.” I shrugged. Being ‘indoors’ was an understatement. I walked over to her with the water bottle in hand. She took it.
“It is beautiful,” she said, sitting on a chair near the window.
“Thank you.” I smiled and looked at her, wondering when she would let her melody out to play. I unshielded mine, trying to tempt her into letting hers out as well. Repeatedly, I tried, but shields upon shields blocked my way. “Emma,” I said in frustration.
She turned to look at me. “What?”
“I guess I understand why. I mean, I am the bad guy, right? Well, as far as your limited knowledge is concerned, I am the bad guy, but I wonder, Emma, what if I wasn't the actual bad guy in all of this?” I stood up from the couch and walked over to her, kneeling beside her. I moved the water bottle and held both of her hands in mine.
“Cade,” she said my name in a plea, as if she was having a hard time containing herself, too. I had to do something so that the emotions and physical need would fade away even just a little. I moved her fingers to my lips, kissing the tip of each one, as I stared into her green eyes. I could see so much there within those eyes. Her feelings and her melody, she locked away, but her eyes were a window into them, into her soul, and I had a glimpse into what she was feeling, and something was there between us. It wasn't hate exactly; it was something warm, and she was confused by it. It seemed as if my plan was working; her walls would tumble down soon, and she would be mine.
“I want you to know who I am, Emma. I am not the heartless monster that you assume me to be.”
“You killed my parents,” she said in a whisper. “I cannot forgive you for that.”
I dropped my head down into my hands—so close, and yet still so far. We were still not past it, which meant that we needed to discuss it further.
