Page 6 of Guardian of Misty Mountain

“I’m feeling much better now that I’m with you,” I tell her truthfully. “Why were you trapped inside for so long?” I ask. It’s not the first time she’s mentioned something implying she was basically kept under lock and key.

My question catches her by surprise and I can tell she doesn’t quite know what to say. “My parents were always very… protective. Extremely so.”

She hesitates, as if not sure how much to share with me. One day, I hope to get her whole story. For now, I’m honored she felt comfortable enough to give me this little slice.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say. She gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Anyway. Enough of the sad stuff. Shall we eat? I’ve prepared creamy tomato basil chicken and rice. It’s a spin on the old comfort food.”

“Sounds amazing. I can’t wait to try it.” My eyes follow Amelia’s every move as she dishes up our food and sashays back to the table. “You look gorgeous, by the way. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. Your eyes…” I trail off, not wanting to sound like the obsessed fool I am.

“Go on,” she encourages. “Don’t stop now. A lady loves getting compliments.”

I smile at her, marveling at how easy she is to talk to. She makes me feel almost normal. No, better than normal. I feel like myself, even if I’m not sure what that fully means yet. “In that case, your eyes are magical and captivating. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone with such a unique eye color. And your hair… well, it’s what drew me to you in the first place.”

“Oh? You were drawn to me?” she asks as she sits down across from me.

“Ah, shit,” I mutter to myself. So much for not looking like a creep “I may have, uh, seen you from across the street when I was in town the other day. You went into the bookstore and I sort of… followed you.”

Instead of looking horrified, Amelia grins at me and then looks down at her plate of food. She likes my attention. She likes that I'm dumbstruck by her beauty. I can't be the only person to tell her these things, but I'm thankful she seems to appreciate my compliments all the same.

We dig into our food, which of course, is delicious. I clear my plate in no time, only realizing afterward I must look like a feral, ravenous beast.

“I have more if you’re still hungry,” she offers. Amelia has her chicken cut into neat little cubes with even portions of rice nextto every bite. It’s kind of adorable, and the complete opposite of how I just devoured my food.

“It was the best meal I’ve had in years, but I should let this settle. I couldn't help myself,” I say, trying to recover.

“I’m glad you liked it. It’s one of my easy go-to meals. Do you like cooking?”

“I dabble here and there. I’ve been toying around with the idea of building a greenhouse where I can grow my own veggies, herbs, and spices.”

"Oh my gosh, you should! That sounds like a dream. Going out to the garden and picking fresh mint leaves and rosemary sprigs… that's what heaven must be like." She gets a wistful look on her lovely face like she's missing something she never had.

“That settles it, then. I’ll start plans on a greenhouse tomorrow.”

Amelia laughs, the sweet sound pouring over me and shining a light into the darkness I’ve carried around for so long. “You don’t have to do that,” she says after a few moments. “I wouldn’t want to distract you from your woodworking. You must be busy.”

“Between custom orders and chopping down trees to sell as firewood, I keep my days filled. Having a side project is always good, though. It helps me focus on the present.” I stop short of saying that I like to keep busy so the nightmares don’t take over my mind completely.

Amelia finishes her dinner and then stands up, presumably to clear the table. I stand at the same time, reaching for her plate. Our fingers touch and I take her hand in mine, tugging her closer to me. “I can clean up. It’s only fair,” I murmur, looking down into those golden irises.

“Why don’t we leave the clean up for later? I was thinking we could watch a movie? Or if you want to leave, I understand.”

“No,” I say a little too harshly. “I mean, I’d like to stay. If you’ll have me.”

Amelia gifts me with another sweet smile, then surprises the hell out of me by wrapping her arms around my torso and hugging me. I freeze at first, not sure what to do. I haven’t hugged anyone in… God, I can’t even remember. Did any of my foster parents hug me?

“Sorry,” Amelia mumbles as she tries backing away. I stop her movements by hugging her back and tucking her head under my chin. She fits perfectly, right here in my arms.

“Never apologize for this, sweet girl,” I whisper. “I’m kind of rusty when it comes to hugs.”

“You’re doing a good job,” she says, making me grin. I have no idea why Amelia likes me, but I’ll soak up every second of this woman’s presence for as long as she lets me.

We finally untangle ourselves and head over to the couch. Amelia plops down while I spend way too long trying to figure out if I should sit right next to her or give her some space. My sweet girl doesn’t leave me hanging for long. She pats the seat next to her in invitation, easing my anxiety once again.

No sooner do I sit down than her phone rings. Every muscle tenses in her body, much like when her phone went off yesterday. She grabs the phone from the coffee table in front of us, the color draining from her face when she reads the screen.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, trying to keep my voice calm.

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