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She waves her hand, not really looking at me. “I’ll get more eventually. I could put an order in and they’d come on the next ship. Not the next,” she amends, frowning, “but the one after. You’ll be gone then, I suppose.”
I swallow. “So what is that? How many weeks?”
“The next ship with supplies will arrive July.” Her face tilts up to mine. “Does that seem quite absurd to you?”
I lift a brow. “You ever heard of Amazon?”
“The river? Oh.” She snaps her fingers. “No—the mega-store.”
I grin down at her, and she elbows me. “I’ve heard of Amazon.”
“Welcome to 2018, Siren.”
She giggles. “You’re an arse.”
I catch her by the wrist. “Finley Evans. Did you just use a dirty word?”
I lace my fingers through hers, lightly swinging her arm as I aim a mock disapproving look down at her. With o
ur joined hands, she punches at me. “Only for you. I never use perverse language except when influenced unduly.”
“Unduly influenced? Is that right?”
She lands a light blow to my chest.
“Finley, Finley…” I squeeze her hand. “What am I gonna do with you? Lashing out at me, using the devil’s language?”
She’s grinning, but I see her lips bend downward at the corners, like she’s trying to fight it off.
I stroke her wrist with my thumb. “Siren. I’ve been missing you.”
Color spreads across her cheeks. She bites the inside of her cheek before she presses her lips flat.
“Odd. You didn’t seek me out for company for near a week before I walked into a closet with you.”
Our path curves as we crest a small hill, and I see my borrowed cottage over on the left. Its underground window shines in the soft grass.
I squeeze Finley’s fingers. “Maybe I wasn’t sure you wanted me to.”
“I tried to track you down for your check-up. You were never there.”
“Did you?”
“I did.”
My pulse kicks up a little as I think about that first night back, when I woke up without her. All the other days… I exhale. “I’m sorry.”
What can I tell her? I’m too fucked up to be alone in a house so I kept going to the bar, but I hugged my pillow and I thought about her lots? I rub my thumb over her knuckles, hoping she won’t pull her hand away from mine. I touch a Band-Aid taped atop her hand and trace its rough edge. “What’d you do here?”
“Slicing something in the kitchen.” Her pretty eyes are still on her feet. I can feel her brooding, and it makes me want to wrap my arms around her.
Instead of that, I draw our clasped hands to me. I don’t know what I’m thinking. That I’ll kiss the back of her hand? Some kind of Casanova shit? Another wave of cold sweat sweeps me, and I wonder if my hand feels sweaty.
I take a slow breath as we pass the cottage.
Finley glances at its front door. “I’ll be by to pull the weeds soon.”
I swing her hand. “I can do it.”
