Page 32 of Curses and Cornstalks
The furrow between his brows deepens. “Youlikeit?”
I nod and tentatively reach out to brush the backs of my fingers along his jaw. His skin is rough and chilled—too cold to belong to a living human.
He freezes at the contact, and I worry he’ll jerk away, but he doesn’t.
After a long, tense second, I drop my hand.
“You are a very confusing woman,” he says, and I burst into a fit of laughter that echoes through the clearing.
“Confusing?” I laugh again. “How so?”
“First, you come looking for the Watcher—not to harm or kill me like so many others—and now you aren’t even running in terror from this.” He gestures to his face. “Yes, confusing.”
With a smirk, I look back up at the sky. “Well, you aren’t the first person to tell me that. Probably won’t be the last. Besides, I never shy away from a bit of mystery.”
Flutters explode in my stomach when his fingers brush over my hand again, this time finally lacing with mine. His coldness seeps through the material, and I consider asking him to take off the gloves so I can feel his skin, but decide against it.
I’ve gotten several articles of clothing off the man already. I’m not trying to get him naked.
Am I?
“Maybe confusing isn’t the best word,” he says, his accent suddenly more twangy. “I just… I don’t understand why, of all places, you’d want to be here right now. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
When I look back over, Atticus is staring up at the sky. His expression is somewhere between confusion and disappointment, though I’m sure that can’t be right.
Why would he be disappointed?
I squeeze his hand reassuringly. “Like you said earlier, I have my family… and now I have you. That’s a two-way street, you know? You have me too.”
His head lolls in my direction just as a gentle gust of wind blows through the cornfield, rustling the leaves and making the stalks sway. Lightning flickers in the distance, followed by the gentle rumble of thunder seconds later.
A storm is brewing in the distance, slowly making its way closer. I can’t believe I didn’t bother to check the weather before coming out here, but it’s been nothing but clear skies and sunshine since I arrived in Cold Springs.
Atticus opens his mouth, then closes it again, and I get the feeling he’s lost for words.
He hasn’t had anyone in his corner for a long time; I’d probably be overwhelmed if I was in his shoes.
Damn, there go my heartstrings again.
“So, Jeremy was the second oldest,” I say, changing the subject and hoping the awkward moment passes. “Who was the third?”
Relief flashes over his face before he smiles. “My brother, Eugene. Quite the little hothead, but no one could shovel hay like that boy.”
We lay there in the clearing as he tells me about each of his siblings and what he remembers about them. The names come with stories, some funny and some sad, and I nod along as I listen. There’s no way I’ll remember them all, but I don’t miss the way he perks up when he talks about them.
The lightning gets brighter and more close together, the rumbling thunder growing louder as the minutes tick by. The wind blows harder, rustling the stalks around us until they’re a near constant chorus of whispers, and a fat drop of rain lands on my forehead. I squeak and wipe it away.
“It’s probably time for you to get going,” Atticus says, sounding a little deflated.
Or maybe that’s me hearing what I want to hear.
A depression forms in my chest at the thought of leaving, but I definitely don’t want to be caught out here in the middle of a downpour. But the thought of Atticus out here alone, weathering the rain, doesn’t sit right with me either. Even though he’s done it for a hundred years.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “My aunt will probably be wondering where I am. I’ve had to come up with some creative lies to keep them from asking too many questions.”
“That’s wise.” Atticus swiftly pulls on his burlap sack and slings the rope around his neck, just like it was before. He hops to his feet and offers me a hand, pulling me up before bending to retrieve his coat.
When he takes my hands again, my stomach cartwheels, and I follow him out of the clearing. Every step toward the end of the cornfield makes my heart sink a little further, but I know there’s no avoiding it; I can’t stay here.
