Page 28 of Just Can't Fall for the Enemy

“You too, buddy.”

Seeing Tanner acting so cute with Nate hurt even worse. I couldn’t get away fast enough. In fact, Tanner had to jog to catch up. He’d hurriedly packed his tripod and camera, I noticed, as only two of the clasps on his suitcase were fastened. A hurry to leave the group of women or a hurry to overhear my conversation with Nate?

“What a special kid,” he said, matching my stride. “Why do I get the feeling you didn’t want me talking to him?”

“Nate is off-limits,” I said curtly.

“Can I ask why?”

“No.”

He blinked at my sharpness, looking stung. But this wasn’t something I could explain. Not with words, not with pure emotion. My heart was still working out the details, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever completely unravel what happened.

The walk toward the cemetery entrance was a quiet one. I caught him glancing at me a few times, but I didn’t return his gaze. I couldn’t. My thoughts were locked in an iron grip of regret and hurt, a place I rarely escaped from unscathed. The only consolation lay before us as we stopped at the iron arch entrance. There, displayed in all its glory, a brilliant orange-and-purple sunset awaited.

“Wow,” Tanner breathed. “Even your sunsets are better here.” When I didn’t answer, he turned to me with a somber expression. “You’ve done so much to help me the past few days. I want to help you, but I’ll admit I feel utterly helpless to do it.”

“It’s not something you can help with.” I left the rest unspoken:Especially when you’re leaving in a few days.“You should get a shot of this.”

He watched me for a moment longer while I tried to ignore him. His gaze felt like a giant spotlight trying to burn through my eyeballs to my brain, piecing together everything that lay beneath the surface. Then he finally grabbed his camera and filmed the sky until the sun dipped past the horizon, plunging the world around us into gray.

He hung the camera around his neck and motioned to the cemetery before us. “I’m fascinated by graveyards. They tell the stories of the people who lived there better than anything I know. If you have any interesting stories, I’d love to hear them.”

I’d intended to sabotage Tanner tonight like never before—take him on the dizzy and nauseating rides, allow him to get swarmed, and make him as uncomfortable as possible. But now I saw how childish my behavior had been. Especially now that he knew what I’d been trying to do . . . and was somehow still here, seeming to enjoy my company. The harder I pushed him away, the sweeter and more attentive he got.

It was infuriating.

My heart pounded like I’d just run a race even though we’d done nothing but stand here. “Nate wanted me to show you the children’s section. He likes the stone with the baby shoes. But I . . . I can’t. Not right now.” Some tiny part of me wanted to toss all my plans aside and take Tanner to the farthest edge of the cemetery where a joint headstone with my parents’ names stood. But the rest of me—the smart part—wanted him as far from that as possible.I was such a mess.

“Take whatever time you need. We can even go back to the carnival if you want.” His fingers slid down my arm, sending a wave of delighted shock through me, and he took my hand.

Took my hand.

And held it firmly.

Something deep inside screamed at me as if with a hundred wailing fire-truck sirens. Danger. I’ve been here before.But I couldn’t get myself to tear my hand away, not when it felt so warm and kind and, oddly, eased some of the pain in my heart.

“No,” I finally said, my voice suddenly hoarse. “If it’s stories you want, I have one to show you. It isn’t far.”

I took him around the corner, two blocks away. His hand gripped mine all the while, our arms brushing on occasion. Each time, I wished his arm would slide around my shoulders and pull me close to his chest. I wanted him to envelop me in every way possible, to form a wall between me and the pain, to hold me until the pain dissipated and there was just him.

This time, I didn’t shove the feeling away. I squeezed his hand. He immediately squeezed back.

I pulled him to a stop in front of a little blue house with a picket fence. It looked gray and ominous in the darkness, no different from those surrounding it, its age indicated more by the thick trees in front than anything. I brought him up the narrow driveway to the side of the yard where we could see the shadowed barn in the backyard.

Tanner watched me curiously, waiting. Something told me he would wait all night if necessary.

“To date,” I began, “every citizen of Huckleberry Creek has been laid to rest in the cemetery upon their death except for one. The man who built this house was a night watchman in the early 1900s. While patrolling the cemetery, he caught a group stealing from a new grave and drove them off. He declared that he’d never been a victim of theft in his life and he certainly wouldn’t be upon his death. His dying wish was to be buried in that barn, with the key destroyed and the barn’s entrance sealed. That way nobody could steal from him.”

I expected Tanner to look disgusted, but he only appeared intrigued as he stared at the barn. “Is he still there?”

“No. The fourth set of owners got fed up and had his coffin moved to the cemetery. But the coffin’s lid shifted during transit and they realized the lock had been broken a long time ago. Seems somebody saw his precautions as a challenge and took what they wanted anyway. Whoever it was is likely long dead.” I shrugged.

“I can’t imagine living with a rotting corpse in my backyard,” Tanner said, still gazing at the barn. “I’d have him moved too.”

“I wouldn’t.”

He turned to me in surprise. “You’d leave him there?”

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