Page 13 of It's You
“Stop walking.”
“What? Why?” She kept walking.
He spoke from behind her. “Stop walking.”
She turned around to face him.
“I’d have grabbed your arm to make you stop, but you said not to touch you.”
She nodded curtly as he caught her eyes and held them.
I would never hurt you. Never.
She swallowed.
I mean it, Darcy. It’s a sacred pledge. I would never hurt you.
She put her hands on her hips.And why exactly should I believe you, Jack?
Because.
He looked down, and when he looked up again, his eyes were on fire.
Because you belong to me. And I belong to you.
4
Darcy’s entire body froze except for her heart, which did somersaults like she was fifteen again.
He started walking, taking the lead, and after a moment, Darcy trailed behind him. They continued past the last of the grassy park to the right of the church, where no one at the wedding in the back meadow could see them, and headed into the woods.
Proctor Woods had always held a special place in Darcy’s heart. When she was a child, her father would take her and Amory for long hikes in the woods, showing them how various weather patterns affected the world around them.
Darcy knew every inch of the thirty-acre woods, the trails, the three ponds, meadows, falls, and the lake in the middle. She thoroughly credited summers spent in the rambles with her current profession, Adjunct Professor of Botany at Dartmouth University. For most of her life, Proctor Woods had served as a place of study, reflection, and comfort for Darcy, although at present there was very little in the woods to capture her attention.
From her vantage point, traipsing behind him, she could check out the man that Jack had grown into. He had been a muscular teenager, but his body radiated fully matured strength now, muscles flexing and relaxing in his back like a machine with every step he took. Her eyes drifted lower to his waist, and before she knew it, they had walked at least a tenth of a mile with her eyes trained on his backside, which, she determined with a grudging sigh, was a thing of extreme perfection. She swallowed nervously, wondering if he could hear what she was thinking. If he could, he didn’t let on.
Nor did he look back at her as they walked in silence and Darcy tried not to think about his words, but the harder she tried not to, the more they danced in her mind, taunting her, teasing her, reminding her of the desperate, terrible longing she felt when she had disavowed them in the girls’ bathroom.
Because you belong to me. And I belong to you.
How could it be true? What did it mean?And hmm…how come he wasn’t answering her?
“Can’t you hear me?” she finally asked.
“I’m not looking at you.”
“You’re not—Ahhh…” she murmured. “The sunglasses.”
He nodded his head in front of her, but didn’t look back.
“So youdidknow about this telepathy.”
“I didn’t know,” he insisted, “for sure.”
Her emotions were all over the place. Darcy was a scientist. She didn’t believe in things like telepathy, and yet she’d just used the word to describe the strange, intimate communication between them.
“You’re angry with me,” he muttered.
