But the last time I went away, Lou died. And maybe, in some childish, superstitious recess of my soul, I’m afraid that if I leave again, I’ll lose another important part of my life. Something else will vanish, never to be reclaimed.
I walk faster until I’m practically running, racing the wind. I catch up to Rick right before he reaches one of the rocky outcroppings along the beach, a smaller version of the huge bluff where the lighthouse stands.
I grab his arm, panting.
He turns, and I’m suddenly aware of his height, his huge shoulders, and his solid, warm presence. The scruff along his jawline looks rougher and darker in the gloom,and his deep-set eyes catch a stray thread of moonlight, gleaming with unearthly intensity.
I knew he was a witch, but I didn’t fully realize what that means until this moment. His power might not be the flashy kind, but he holds magic within himself. Even if he looks more like a lumberjack, he’s a supernatural from a long line of gifted potion-makers.
“Took you long enough to catch up,” he says.
He knew I was following him. He could have slowed down, but he made me chase him.
I want to blurt out the question at the forefront of my mind, but I’m still cautious, suspicious, reluctant to tell him my secret.
“Why were you at that meeting?” I ask.
“Figured I should know what’s going on in town, with the festival coming up.”
“Oh. Is that all?”
He crosses his thick arms, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners, though he doesn’t actually smile. “And I thought I might tell them about the man-eating horses I ran into at Fuller’s Pond.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I decided against it.”
“Why?”
“Because you didn’t want me to.” He watches me carefully for a reaction, but I keep my face as blank as I can.
“I don’t care what you do.”
“Really?” He scoffs. “Because you seemed to care a lot earlier. You’re protecting someone. Someone who works at your ranch, maybe.”
“It’s not a ranch, it’s a riding stable.”
“What’s the difference?”
“What’s the—my god, you don’t know much about horses, do you? Even though you look like a guy who would. Rugged, you know, like some kind of cowboy from a western novel or a movie, like you should be wearing a cowboy hat, except it’s a good thing you’re not because this wind would snatch it right off your head, carry it away in a second, and I’m sure as hell not going to run down the beach after your hat when you were dumb enough to wear it outside in this weather.”
He does smile then, a grin that sends sparkles of humor into his eyes. “I’m not actually wearing a cowboy hat.”
“No, but if you were, I wouldn’t fetch it.” I crossmyarms as well, my boots planted wide in the sand.
We stand like that, staring at each other, until a violent gust of wind slams against both of us, making me stumble and putting him slightly off balance. A torrent of rain follows, sheets of it cascading along the beach. We’re instantly soaked to the skin. I can barely see or breathe through the violence of the screaming wind and the stinging rain. Definitely a supernatural storm.
“Shelter!” roars Rick through the tempest.
“Follow me!”
I struggle toward the rocks ahead. I know of a hollow, a cleft carved from stones and earth. It’ll offer some protection.
As we leave the sandy part of the beach, my ankle turns slightly on the stony ground, but it’s only a faint twinge of pain, nothing serious. I grab Rick’s wrist and pullhim into the recess with me. It’s big enough to fit a few people comfortably, so there’s room for both of us.
“The sea lion shifters like to hang out in this area,” I gasp, dashing rain out of my eyes. “Lots of big rocks where they can sun themselves.”
“I met one the other day. Elliott Fitzgerald. Seems like a good guy.”
