Page 58 of Say My Name

“So, one day, he saw her bathing and stole the swan feathers so she couldn’t fly away. He made her his wife, and they lived together.”

Her green eyes glow with wonder. “Happily?”

“Legend has it that the maiden was sad. That the man never let her be her true self. The swan. He only wanted her human form, never giving her the swan feathers. Essentially, he kept her trapped.”

“What happened?”

Somehow, my hand lands on top of her thigh, and I stare at it, swallowing past the lump in my throat from the memories this story brings to the forefront of my mind. “One day, she found the hidden feathers and flew away.”

“How sad.”

“Is it? She was free.” My eyes scale the church, up the brick walls to the spires pointing at the heavens, thinking about my mother. How my father kept her trapped, and she never felt free until she took her own life.

“So, I guess it was a good thing she flew away. She wasn’t happy.”

I stare into her eyes. “My mother had blonde hair.”

“Ah. I remind you of your mother?”

I nod. “A little. I feel like you’re hiding your true self.”

She lets out a quick, high-pitched laugh. “Well, I’m not. This is me.”

I study her and her gaze drops to her lap, where she picks at an imaginary thread on her dress. “I like you. You’re honest and pure.” I don’t know why I’m telling her all of this, but I want her to open up to me. I want to be here for her through this hard time.

Those pretty emerald eyes shoot back up to mine. “I like you too.” Her cheeks tinge pink.

My heart pounds in my ears as my gaze drops to her lips, and I trace a lazy circle over her soft skin with my thumb. I prickle at the thought that her jackass of a boyfriend didn’t bother bringing her to the funeral today.

“I should get you back,” I say, removing my hand. “I’m sure your boyfriend is worried about you.”

Her posture stiffens. “Oh, yeah.”

“Is he working?” I rise from the bench. “Is that why he didn’t come to the funeral with you?”

She jumps from the bench like it bit her on the ass and she’s skittish as she falls in step beside me. “Mm-hmm. Work.”

When we get to my car, I’m burning with questions about the asshole who couldn’t take the day off work to be there for his girl.

If she were mine, I would have stood next to her. Been there for her. Fucking taken care of her.

And maybe that’s why I’m upset. Because she’shis girl.

All those questions die on the tip of my tongue as I open the door for her and she slides into the front seat. My mind plays back the reel of her dancing for me. Does she dance for him?

Jealousy has me in its grip when I hop into the car and fire up the engine.

I peel away like I’m in the Indy 500. Like I can outrun these feelings she’s stirring up in me and the inevitability they’ll be my demise.

“You should slow down,” Swan says, clutching the door handle like it’s a lifeline.

I glance at the speedometer and see I’m going ninety. “Shit. Sorry.” I lift my foot from the accelerator and plow into the danger zone. “Why didn’t your boyfriend come to the funeral with you?” My knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. “Or better…foryou?”

She twists her hands in her lap, staring straight ahead. “He had to work.”

Silence stretches between us until I pull next to her car on the street.

“Thanks for the distraction from everything,” she says, fumbling with the door handle.

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