Page 36 of Sweet Silver Bells
His situation felt precarious as he turned to her, the digital clock above the mantle glowing bright crimson.
3:46 a.m.
“It isn’t much,” Hunter said, but Olivia held out her hand and hushed him as she took in the room. She gasped and giggled when the clock changed to the next minute. The sound was infectious, and Hunter found himself laughing, too.
It was a nervous, misplaced chuckle because there was no denying that his world was not her world. The modern day was so new, so foreign to her.
Her large, dark eyes devoured every detail.
“It’s everything,” she exhaled, staring at him like he was something important.
Hunter cleared his throat to break the spell. How easy this was, standing with her.
“We need to work on empathy a bit, but you’re welcome to stay for as long as you need. I’ll sleep on the couch. The bedroom is just down the hallway.”
“My empathy?”
“That cop didn’t deserve that.”
“Oh, right, because it’s Christmas.” Olivia sighed, as if Hunter was ruining her joy.
“You only have the one bedroom?”
“There are two. The other one is used for storage… hobbies, I guess.”
"Hobbies?"
"Painting, knitting, I think there are some pottery supplies in there too."
“The home I grew up in had many rooms.”
Ritzy little tree siren, I see.
“Vultauge Manor, I know it well,” he replied.
Olivia's head snapped to him at the name, her mouth frowning.
"What did I say?" he asked.
"My family name. I almost forgot it." She left it at that.
Hunter moved into his bedroom, the worn beige carpet under his feet. He slid the mirrored closet door open and crouched in the back, pulling out a box. It was a box that he had never opened, not since he had packed it.
Sarah’s clothes.
Hunter couldn’t bear to get rid of them or give them to her family. He swore her citrus perfume still lingered, though maybe that was only in his head after all these years.
There were sweatpants inside and a warm thermal shirt. Getting Olivia clothed before she slept in Sarah’s bed, in their bed, felt necessary.
He frowned at the black heavy metal band t-shirt he picked up, thinking about the piece of clothing on another woman.
This is wrong.
He wouldn’t do it. He wouldn't mix memories like this.
Hunter put the shirt back into the box and tucked it away. It was better sealed away, safe from time and air that would one day steal any lingering scent. The thought made his stomach sink.
“I can work with the tree,” Olivia said, running her hand along the bedspread, the frame, the pillows. “Would that make up for the cop? I would be happy to make it happy.”
