Page 13 of Secrets in Salem: Part One

You're close?

"Adam and I? Yeah. We never used to be, though you wouldn't believe it now. We went through a rough patch before we became friends, but now I consider the dork the brother I never had," I answer with a fond smile.

Adam and I are the same age. While he had been struggling to accept his sexuality, he’d bullied me mercilessly in reaction to his anger at himself. At the age of sixteen he finally told his dad that he was gay. The same year I found out I was adopted. He apologized for everything, took the fall for a lot, and I forgave him. We've been close since, because I know he was only hurting, confused, and acting out. He's been a completely different person since he told his dad. It was a huge turning point for him, and he's an amazing person for it.

Only child?

I read the note and nod slowly. Turning to face him a little better, I lift my mug and cup it in my hands, the warmth comforting. "Yeah, uh, I'm adopted. My mom adopted me when I was six, and I only found out when I was sixteen. It's not a big deal, though. I have enough people in my life I consider family."

The smile he sends me is full of warmth and understanding. He nods slowly, taking a sip of his coffee. His eyes widen, and he looks at the mug with renewed interest. I laugh because I completely understand what he's experiencing right now. My first sip of Tracey’s coffee, I made a group of teenage boys stumble over themselves in passing when they’d overheard the noise I made.

"Right? Best coffee in Salem."

I take a sip of my own drink, taking a larger mouthful now that the liquid has cooled a little more. We fall into an easy silence, eating our cake, sipping our coffee, and occasionally snapping photos of the workers across the road without judgement from Micah.

After some time, I decide to broach the subject that's intrigued me since I walked right into him. "I hope you don't mind me asking, and I don't mean to be rude when I do, but I’m curious as to why you don't speak. Why is that?"

His face displays surprise, but he doesn't look offended. He's quiet for a moment, tapping the pen on the notepad as he thinks. I don't push, unsure whether or not it's a topic that touches a nerve or if it's appropriate for a first encounter. My mother always did like to remind me that curiosity killed the cat.

I lean back in my seat, content exactly where I am, almost feeling sad at the knowledge that I’ll have to abandon his company soon for Adam’s research. The thought alone has me internally groaning. I should really learn to stop offering to help with research for Adam’s documentaries since I know it bores me to tears. There’s a reason I didn’t fare well in history class.

From the corner of my eye, I see Micah put the ball of the pen to paper before he begins to jot down a few words, scribbling them out shortly after. When he tries again, I hear his phone ping, interrupting his writing.

He slides it out of his pocket, and I look away to give him privacy, focusing on the cake that melts on my tongue. I hear a sigh, then the scratching of a pen following it. He slides the paper over, and I put my fork down and read over his words.

A story for another time? I have to leave. My brother needs me.

"Oh, sure. That's fine." I give him a smile even though something inside me feels a little disheartened that I won't be able to spend more time with him. It's a strange feeling since we only just met, but I've enjoyed speaking to him. Even the silences have been unstrained. That’s a rare occurrence in and of itself. Especially around me, the socially inept weirdo.

Micah gestures to my phone, and I can't explain what drives me to do it, but I slide it over without hesitation. After a couple of moments tapping away on the screen, he hands it back with a dimpled grin. His phone pings again, and he quickly writes on the paper.

Would you like to have another coffee sometime? On me. Just not literally.

Laughing albeit a little surprised as well as happy, I nod. "Uh, sure! That would be nice."

He keeps smiling, his eyes sparkling in the light of the sun.

You have my number, and I have yours. Text me when you're free.

"I'll do that. Sorry again about your shirt," I tell him, pointing at the dark brown stain. That’s not going to come out. Damn it.

Micah shakes his head and gives me a wink before standing, blocking the sun with his height. He holds his hand out, but I have no idea what he's waiting for. He huffs another laugh, points at my hand, and gestures for it. Slowly, I give him my hand with a confused smile.

Leaving me speechless and stunned once more, he drops a small kiss at the back of it, giving me one more wink and smile before leaving. I sit back in my chair with a dreamy smile. They don't make them like that anymore. Whatever happened to chivalry and charm? That man has it in spades, and he never breathed a single word. Now, if that’s not talent, I don’t know what is.

I slowly finish my coffee while my head remains in the clouds a little longer. As soon as I’m done and there’s still no sign of Adam, I decide to order another while I wait for him to finish his father-son bonding experience. Heading into the café with mine and Micah's empty mugs, I place my order and lean against the counter while I wait, stuffing my hands into my pocket.

The feel of folded paper is a sudden reminder that I still have an envelope in my bag that’s now metaphorically burning a hole through the material. My good mood sinks like the Titanic as anxiety unfurls in my gut. Brushing a thumb over the rough paper, I feel my eyebrows draw down into a worried frown. I have to know what’s inside this thing, now.

When my coffee arrives, I briskly walk back to my seat with a hurried thanks of appreciation thrown over my shoulder to Tracey. I’d like to think I’m prepared to read whatever lies within the small rectangular seal... and I’d also like to think that wasn’t a bold-facedlie.

Chapter 8

Willow

My hand shakesas I stare at the envelope, my hands resting on the table with a vibrating tremble. The paper taps the frosted glass surface repeatedly, the soft patters loud in my ears. Inhaling slowly, I close my eyes for a brief moment, hoping to calm my nerves to no avail.Just get it over with, Willow. The longer you stare at it, the more your nerves will get the better of you.

With another deep breath, I nod once just as my hand twitches. Turning the envelope over, I slide my finger under the strip and pause. This is ridiculous. I'm scared of a piece of paper. Of all the things in the fucking world to be afraid of...

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