Page 7 of The Mountain Man's Flame

Something occurs to me. “Is it a religious thing? You know, there are those kids who sign purity pledges.”

His grin grows bigger. “You’re very interested in my very non-existent sex life. But to answer your question, no. It’s not a religious choice. It’s not something that was ever pushed on me and not a choice I felt pressured to make. I made it because it felt right for me.”

I have more questions for Aiden, but as he pointed out I’m coming across as way too interested. Instead, I gesture toward the fuse box. “What do you think is wrong with it?”

“Won’t know until I can come out here and run some tests. Could be anything from a few short circuits to a faulty ground wire. Place definitely needs some work.”

My shoulders slump. The town doesn’t have the funds to invest in the library. I’m scared that if things keep up the way they are, it will get shut down within the next year or two. The thought makes my heart hurt.

“Hey, don’t worry,” Aiden says softly like he can read my thoughts. “It’s not impossible. I’ve been on restoration projects with a good buddy of mine. Now, come on. Let’s see if we can find your phone before we head back up.”

It only takes a few minutes to locate my cracked phone. The screen is shattered, and the device won’t turn on anymore. Relief filters through me when I see that. It means I won’t have to endure the call I hate every year.

I grab it and stand just as something tickles my arm. I glance down in the dim basement lighting to see a small spider on me.It’s the tan one that’s common in parts of the state and also poisonous. Letting out a shriek, I brush at my arm to get it off of me.

Aiden is beside me in an instant, demanding to know what’s wrong.

“There was a spider,” I tell him, feeling sheepish. I am a strong, independent woman who can handle just about anything life throws her way. Except for spiders because they freak me out.

He takes a step forward, stomping his boot against the concrete floor. “Gone now.”

“Thanks,” I mutter and turn toward the stairs since we’ve accomplished our two missions. “When I was a kid, my brother threw a big spider at me. I mean, in his defense I did undress all of his GI Joe dolls and put them in bikinis. His friends laughed at him for weeks. But I definitely don’t like the feeling of a spider on me.”

Our childish antics still bring a smile to my face. Evan and I may have been sworn enemies as kids, but we’re close friends as adults. Now, we can both laugh over the stupid ways we tormented each other. He’s my last bit of family since my mom died last year.

“Well, fear no more. I’ll be the resident spider killer when we’re married,” he says as he follows me up the stairs. He says it like it’s a perfectly normal thing to say, like we’re a real couple. I’m pretty sure he’s just teasing me about this. Either that or the head injury is more serious than I realized.

“See, now you’re winning me over,” I tease him back. “What other husbanding skills do you have?”

“I’m loyal, committed, and I love to read.” He ticks off these things as he stops in the biography section. He eyes the bucket of water from the leaking roof but doesn’t comment on the fact that this place is pretty much falling apart.

Loyalty and commitment aren’t words that mean much to me. I’ve been disappointed too many times to put much stock in them. But he caught my attention with the last statement. “You made me swoon a little with the reading part. What do you read?”

“Anything, everything. I was a bookworm as a kid. Still am now, though I prefer listening to audio books on my phone so I can be hands-free.”

“And what are you listening to right now?”

He frowns. “You go first.”

I look at the frayed carpet beneath my sneakers. I’ve spent so much time on this floor, disappearing into books that offered a hurting little girl relief from her pain. “Just a silly historical romance. I mean, I don’t even believe in that stuff.”

“Someone hurt you?” He asks the question quietly.

I shrug and whisper, “Never seen a man stick around.”

He guides me to the seating area and sits in the chair beside me. He takes my hand in his, intertwining our fingers. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t ask questions or pry. For some reason, his decision to give me space makes me want to tell him everything.

“My dad left when I was in third grade. I didn’t hear from him for almost a year. Then he calls the day before my birthday. He told me that he was driving up and we’d spend the whole day together. Just me and him.” I swallow hard. “I waited on my front porch for hours. He never showed up. Even now, he calls before my birthday and makes me these grand promises that won’t get fulfilled.”

Aiden says, “It hurts the little girl that’s still waiting on the porch.”

I blink back tears. “You want to know the worst part? I looked him up on social media a couple of weeks ago. There are photosof him celebrating birthdays with his other daughters. They’re grown just like me, and he takes them to Disneyland.”

I probably sound like a whiny kid, but the pain I normally keep pushed down is bubbling up to the surface. “I just want to know why I’m not as good as them, why I get empty promises.”

“Because he’s ashamed. If he faces you, he has to admit that he walked out on a special little girl who became a beautiful, strong woman and he can’t live with that knowledge.”

“You think that’s the problem?” Some ache in my chest that’s been there for years eases a tiny bit. I’ve spent so long trying to figure out what’s wrong with me, why I’m not good enough. In a single sentence, Aiden gave me the insights I was searching for and helped a sad little girl finally make sense of the hurt.

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