Page 72 of First Chance
I shouldn’t have a crush on Lochlan. He’s too old for me. He’s given me every reason to dislike his presence and to be turned off by his grouchy demeanor, but I long to be near him every time he lets me.
“This is our family plot. My grandparents are buried together.”
“Wow, I didn’t realize people could be buried anywhere other than a cemetery.” My knees sink into the cool grass in front of the giant granite headstone, my index finger tracing the engraving.
Henry & Alice Dane
“I bet your grandmother was wonderful, too.” I wipe a tear from my cheek, trying to hide how silly I’m being. I hardly knew his grandfather and his grandmother, not at all, but it feels like a piece of me missed out on knowing them.
“She was,” he speaks gently behind me, letting me have a moment.
I take my time, wiping loose pieces of grass and leaves that have fallen onto the smooth stone, shining it properly for two strangers. It seems like the least I can do.
“Thank you for bringing me here.” When I stand and face him, the hard lines of his face are intense, watching me closely. It would probably put most people off, but it only makes me wonder what it would be like to bury my head in his chest, or to have his arms wrapped around me with that same intensity.
“Come on, it’s late. I’ll get you back.”
I follow his lead even though I don’t want to go back to my lonely guesthouse yet. The air is thick with the smoke he predicted would get caught in the mountains, and it makes the walk hazier than before. The footpath is eerie with fog, and I walk closer to Lochlan’s side because of it.
An animal jumps in the brush alongside us, and I flinch, bumping into his arm. “Sorry,” I mumble in embarrassment.
His hand brushes mine again, but I don’t move away. Instead, I let my pinky graze his knuckles, waiting for him to pull back.
But he doesn’t.
The pressure building in my chest is nearing volcanic. Every beat feels closer to my heart bursting as I wrap my littlest finger around his ever so gently.
I wait for a protest through theroaring in my ears, but it never comes. He holds my pinky in his much larger one, walking me home under the moonlight.
Butterflies flutter through me, and I can’t control the corners of my lips from lifting. It’s silly. I shouldn’t be so giddy, but it’s the closest I’ve ever felt to being a character in one of my movies.
Until loud popping bursts through the silent night, echoing and bouncing off the trees all around us.
His hand envelops mine, pulling me to his chest and backing us into the cover of the woods.
Pop, pop, pop.
“Is that fireworks?” I ask breathlessly, the blood roaring in my ears is less romantic now.
Pop, pop.
“No.” His head is high, listening closely to which direction the noise is originating.Pop, pop, pop.“Dammit.”
“What?”
“I need to get you back to the house.” He’s still holding me tightly against him, but I can’t enjoy the moment because of what he’s telling me.
“And, then what?”
“Call 911. Tell them we’re being shot at.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Lochlan
There aren’t many people in this world who have the privilege to touch the fur of an adult bear. The dense black hairs that don’t feel real when smoothed under your hand, and the giant paws tipped with dangerously long claws.
My palm caresses the tan snout of this bear as if to comfort him. He’s too far gone to save and too hurt to fight.
