Page 20 of Echoes of Him

My eyes turn down to stare at my notes. Kael’s words sit sure and secure inside me, but that doesn’t mean I’m made of stone. I know pain and rejection, and I know the desperation associated with longing for something that will forever be just out of your reach.

“You never tried to visit him?” I ask, but I catch sight of Kael already shaking his head before I’ve even finished asking the question. “I don’t entirely blame you. Knowing he was so close all those years and never reached out must have been very painful, but may I ask why?”

He shrugs. And then he makes a noise, a grunt but not quite as agreeable. “It is what it is.”

“You don’t have to play it off as nothing, Kael. It’s okay to acknowledge that pain. You’re allowed to feel it. You’re supposed to feel it. The pain exists, and it’s very real.”

He gives me a long look. So long, it’s getting uncomfortable. He’s hardly blinking. “Kael?”

Nothing.

He says nothing.

“Kael, are you alright?”

Still nothing. Absolutely nothing.

My fingers slide across the coffee table, briefly brushing the side of his knee in what I’m hoping is a reassuring gesture, a tactile approach to keep him talking to me. But the instant we touch, it’s like a spark of electricity shoots straight up my arm. I jolt, my gaze slamming firmly into his, and for a split second, he holds my gaze while I drown in the depths of his eyes.

Being so close to him quickens my pulse, and my hands shake slightly under the intensity of his stare. Something about him has rattled me.

Shit. What am I doing?

I squeeze my eyes shut as tightly as I can, attempting to drown out the frantic voices in my head screaming at me right now, telling me this is very wrong, that this will never end well.

Standing quickly to my feet, I clear my throat and then walk across the room to put some much needed distance between us. As I stare out the wall of windows, breathing a huge sigh of relief, I watch the swaying elm trees beyond the ivy-covered stonework. The garden at the back of the building is a maze of beautifully manicured hedges, and I let myself get caught up in the slight breeze moving effortlessly through the treetops while I try and wrap my head around what just happened.

If I had to guess, I would say my reaction just now is a direct result of not having so much as touched a man in over two years, an inherent need for physical contact, and a need that has long been overlooked.

But I don’t like it.

I don’t like the sudden ache in my chest. I don’t like the strange emptiness in my core. I don’t like the way my ears and cheeks are hot. I don’t like the way my mouth is suddenly so dry. And I most definitely don’t like the tense clenching of my thighs.

“That’s enough for today,” I tell him quietly, my gaze locked tightly on the rose bushes lining the cobbled pathway at the very back of the garden. “You’ve done well. I’ll see you at two o’clock tomorrow.”

“But… the hour isn’t up yet,” he says from behind me. I don’t bother turning around to acknowledge him. His tone is solemn. “Did I do something wrong?”

Now there’s a loaded question.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Kael. I just…uh, it’s been a long day, and I’ve got a stack of paperwork to get through. We’ve covered enough for today. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

Letting out a deep breath, I hear the couch cushions squeak with his considerable weight being excised from them, and then I hear footsteps pad sluggishly across the room.

The door opens and closes again without Kael saying another word to me.

Dropping my head onto the cool glass, I close my eyes, trying to bask in the glory of my own space. But unfortunately, it’s to no avail because whether I like it or not, Kael’s enormous presence is felt in the room long after he has gone.

Sienna

Wine.

I desperately need wine.

And no, the irony of my desperation isn’t lost on me. I work with alcoholics all day long. I see their struggles, listen to their problems, witness firsthand the way alcohol has ruined their families and ruled their relationships to the point of complete and utter destruction.

But that still doesn’t change the fact that a nice big glass of red is what I crave the most after a long day. And I’m ashamed to admit it, but today totally kicked my ass.

Pouring out my wine, I shove two frozen lasagnas into the microwave, push a few buttons, and then I wander into the living room, calling upstairs to Bailey that dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes.

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