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She’d always been not so subtle with her impatience. Even growing up, Alina had never mastered the art of indifference. When someone hurt her, she cried. If she were self-conscious, she would blush, and when she was happy, she laughed with wild abandon—a sound I doubt many people had heard, but I had, and it was glorious. It wasn’t something I could forget in this lifetime.
Her laughter was a haunting memory that had scarred my heart. But when you pissed her off, which I’d done on a regular basis growing up, the fire in her belly burned bright.
I fought the smile that teased at the edges of my lips at the thought of the younger version of us and replied, “Nope, can’t think of one single thing.”
“Fine. Whatever.”
I imagined her rolling her eyes at me as she carefully ascended the stairs ahead of me.
* * *
The ice of her demeanor failed to waiver. While reluctant to do so, Alina eventually left me to work after issuing careful directions.
The entire veranda would need demolishing and rebuilding, along with sections of the floor and staircase. It would not be cheap, and the hesitation was mine. I wasn’t looking forward to relaying the cost estimate.
I found her sometime later, sitting on the bed in her old room.
“Hey.” Keeping my voice low, I made my way further into the room without hesitation, the bed dipping as I sat next to her. Only when her eyes fell on me did I notice hers were brimming with unshed tears. A worn piece of paper sat folded in her hands. Even after all this time, seeing her like this still caused my heart to squeeze. “You okay?”
Almost angrily, she wiped away the tears, then drawing in a deep breath, she exhaled as if attempting to center herself. “Just fine.” It was more of a grimace than a smile offered.
I knew well enough that herjust finewas more of a warning to mind my damn business than the actual truth, but when it came to Alina, minding my own business had been my kryptonite.
“You’re upset. Do you want to talk about it?”
She laughed—a sullen burst of laughter that ended in a bitter sob. “Why would I want to talk to you aboutanything,Callum? In fact, I believe it was made quite clear all those years ago that you were to be the very last person I could speak to.”
If her words were weapons, I would hemorrhage from the wound, and I deserved it.
She had every right to speak to me like that. The malice in her intention had only been a reflection of my own all those years ago, but she didn’t know the truth behind them. How could she? She would never have left if she’d known.
I stood, shoving my hands into my pockets. “Yeah, you’re right. Well, I’ll be on my way. I’ll have the costs finalized and sent to you.”
The sun had already set before I climbed behind the steering wheel to head home. Only one light was cast from the house in the rearview mirror, and it turned to darkness before I met the pine tree forest.
Absence had done nothing to ease the contempt Alina had developed for me. She was holding the grudge like a well-worn shield. Armor I’d forced her to feel was necessary. My single regret was that she thought she still needed it.
ChapterSeven
Alina
Even after all this time, I still felt the pull toward Callum and resented him for it. He’d rejected and humiliated me, broken my heart with malice and total disregard.
I had needed him more than I’d needed to breathe.
I’d needed him to hold me and reassure me it would get better, but instead, he had killed any faith I’d had left. My world had fallen apart, and he’d stomped it into the ground.
My mother had been arrested days before. The police came to our house without warning and took her away. When I closed my eyes, even now, I could still see the panic in hers. When they came, we’d been together, sitting in the shade of the wisteria tree that grew on top of the hill above the lavender field.
She’d sat with her back to the trunk with my head in her lap as she mindlessly stroked my hair.
* * *
“You know, I used to be a princess, always dressed in the finest of lace and silk. I had so many jewels on my hand that I could barely raise it.” She’d extended her hand in front of us as if her fingers still held the precious stones. “The pirate told me he loved me and would make me feel special and kiss me in a secret way.”
“A pirate, Momma?” I asked her.
She always made up the most wonderful stories, embellished and colorful. We lived in an enchanted world where the bitter reality could not reach us. The shell of our world was illuminated and would glow from our adventures.
