Page 14 of Wild Claim

His dark eyes met mine, a storm of emotions swirling in their depths. For a moment, I thought he might open up.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, pushing away from the table to lean back in his chair. “Just... thinking.”

Now he stared up at the ceiling. His unexpected arrival, just when I needed him most, left me with nagging questions. And what had happened to Thomas?

“You know,” I said, cautiously. “My grandmother always said that talking things through helps you deal with them better.”

Rory closed his eyes briefly. The muscles in his shoulders tensed visibly. “Some burdens can’t be shared.”

The sadness in his voice made my chest ache. I took a step toward him, drawn by an inexplicable need to comfort this wounded bear of a man. “Maybe not. But sometimes just knowing you’re not alone can make all the difference.”

He turned then, his eyes searching my face. The vulnerability I saw there, just for a moment, took my breath away. “You’rea good person. Better than I deserve.” Before I could respond, he cleared his throat and nodded toward the stove. “Your stew’s about to boil over.”

I spun back to the pot, my cheeks red and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. While I adjusted the heat, I wondered if we were still talking about the stew at all. His words lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken meanings. When I glanced back at Rory, his gaze was fixed on some distant point beyond the window, lost in a world of his own troubles.

The silence stretched thin. “There’s something I need to tell you.” His voice was gruff, strained, like he was dragging the words out against their will.

This time, I turned the flame off before I set the spoon down and leaned against the counter, giving him my full attention. “Go ahead when you’re ready. I’m listening.”

He took a deep breath. “I’m under a curse that turned me into a turkey.”

A surprised laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “Oh, that’s funny. I think you’ve been reading too many fairy tales,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief. But the serious look on his face stopped me short, freezing the laughter in my throat.

Rory’s brow furrowed; his jaw clenched so hard I thought it might crack. He then tried to imitate a turkey’s gobble. The sound that came out was part grunt, part warble. It was charmingly silly.

I wanted to laugh again, but I couldn’t. Because underneath the absurdity of it all, the gobble he made... it sounded eerily like Thomas. “Who are you really?”

His gaze was raw, filled with something I couldn’t place that made my stomach tighten. The kitchen suddenly felt too small, too warm, like the walls were closing in around us.

“I know it sounds insane, but every word is true. IamThomas.”

This was a joke. It had to be. But who would make up something so outrageous? And why did he look so desperate, so hurt? “I don’t understand. Are you saying you’re a turkey?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t even blink. “A witch cursed me. Said I needed to learn humility and patience. That I’d be stuck in that form until someone cared for me as I am.”

The room was silent except for the ticking of the old clock on the wall. I thought of Thomas and how he’d appeared out of nowhere. How he’d acted so strangely, almost human. How he’d watched me with those deep, knowing eyes.

“No,” I said, shaking my head slowly. “No. This is crazy.You’re crazy.”

“Maybe, but it’s the truth. I know things only Thomas would know. Like how you talk to the plants when you water them, or how you cry during those old romance movies your grandmother loved.”

A chill ran through me. He was right. Uncomfortably, impossibly right. “You could have spied on me,” I said, but even to my own ears the protest sounded flat.

“Why would I do that?” he shot back, a flash of anger cutting through his despondence. “Why would I go to all this trouble? Think about it. Why would a stranger show up at your doorass nakedand tell you something this insane if it wasn’t true?”

I had no answer. My mind was a tangled mess. I didn’t want to believe him. Believing him meant accepting a world where curses and witches were real. Where the rugged man sitting shirtless in my kitchen had been a turkey just hours ago. “Tell me something only Thomas would know,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. “Something you couldn’t have learned by watching me outside a window.”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking away from mine, then back. “The locket. The one with your grandparents’ picture in it. Youthought you lost it, but it’s under the cushion of the rocking chair on the porch.”

My hand went to my heart. I remembered searching the entire house, tearing through drawers and closets, sobbing like a child when I couldn’t find it. I’d given up hope days ago.

“How did you know?”

“I saw it fall from your neck when you were feeding me game-bird scratch. You were so busy you didn’t notice.”

I sank against the counter; the strength draining from my legs. If the locket was there, then everything he said...

“Listen, I’m not asking you to believe me all at once.”

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