Page 111 of Where Roads Lead

Eight o’clock wasn’t technically late, but with New England fall being cursed by a 5:00 PM sunset, it had already been dark for hours.

And it just didn’t seem safe.

I watched Will’s steady form as he pulled out leaves and debris and wondered if there was more going on with him than just having an urge to clean out my gutters on a cold November night.

“Where did you even get a ladder?” I asked him, trying to distract myself from how high up he was. “Is that the one I found in the shed?”

“No,” he said, gloved hand pulling out a handful of gunk from the gutters. “I always keep one in the back of the truck.”

I took a step closer, not wanting to distract him, but feeling a strange anxiety at the thought of him working up there in the dark, when he could slip or fall or…

“Will, please get down from there right now!” My words came out in a hurried rush, sounding panicked even to my own ears.

“I’m fine, Els,” he said. “Go back inside.”

But it was clear from the cadence of his voice that he was not, in fact, ‘fine.’ If anything, he sounded like he was barely suppressing rage.

At me? I doubted it. It wasn’t like I’d filled Mr. Briggs’s gutters with leaves and forced Will to come out here and clean them.

No, there was something deeper going on, and I intended to find out what.

But Will could be as stubborn as I was, so I formulated a plan that would make it impossible for him to ignore me.

I ran back inside, grabbed the key I kept in a drawer, and headed straight for the shed. Inside, past cobwebs and an overwhelming smell of must, I dragged out the ladder I had found in there the first day.

It was heavier than I expected, but I managed to throw it up against the house, right beside Will’s.

“Elsie,” Will warned when he saw what I was doing. “Don’t you dare—Elsie, get off the damn ladder right now.”

I climbed up, testing its stability while I was still close enough to the ground for a fall to be bearable. It seemed sturdy enough, so I continued the ascent, eyes focused only on my own movements.

“Jesus, you’re going to kill me,” he breathed out, and I was vaguely aware of him climbing down.

“Not fair,” I called out, pausing midway. “I went through all this trouble to talk to you, and you’re going down now?”

He jumped off his ladder and held firmly onto mine, a lethality creeping into his voice as he ordered me to climb down.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong if I come down?”

“We’re not debating this,” he said. “Just climb down. Carefully.”

“Geez.” I grinned down at him. “Relax, Will. I’m not doing anything you weren’t doing yourself.”

“I’ve been on a ladder since I was ten years old.” He seethed. “And I can bet you’ve never stepped foot on one in your life. Now, get down.”

“Bossy,” I remarked, climbing down. “I like it.”

“That’s it,” he said. “Easy.”

And then, right as I neared the bottom, I felt his hands at my waist, holding me steady as I made the last of the descent.

I froze, unaccustomed to his touch, feeling like a fall-risk now from the sudden dizziness it evoked.

“Thanks,” I breathed, turning my head to look at him. His face was inches from mine. Close enough that I could’ve leaned in and kissed him, if I thought he were the type of person who wouldn’t mind that.

But he was Will, grumpy and solitary, and I was the girl who was only passing by as a short blip in his life, so I sucked in a breath and let him guide me off the ladder instead.

I’d climbed down expecting his fury, but found only relief against an uncharacteristically pale face.