Page 50 of Like a Hurricane

“It’s so quiet,” She muses.

“Ravenpeak sees tourists through Spring and Summer and a little into Fall, but it remains quiet here regardless. It’s peaceful.”

“It is,” She agrees, taking in the scenery around her. The towering pines, our watchful guards, the tranquil sound of waves crashing on the shore, the music that guides us.

“I’ve been in cities my whole life,” Arryn tells me, “Small towns never even appealed to me until right now.”

“This town is different,” I explain, “It’s just one of those places.”

“A story book,” She breathes dreamily.

“I’ll take you for a tour, princess,” I promise, “But I have a few people I want you to meet.”

Chapter Twenty-four

This was a storybook town. That was the only way to describe it, with the bay and the water rolling against the shore, the dramatic cliff edges and sprawling forests. It was lost in time, the buildings having that rustic, old charm to them with boards that hang from the sidings, swinging with a creak as the wind whistles through the town. The roads and sidewalks are uneven, maintained but barely, but it didn’t take away from the charm of the place.

We go towards a large house that sits at the edge of the water, the upper floors mostly windows that look out onto the bay. A red truck is parked out front, a stack of logs at the side of the porch and a little dark haired girl is playing out front with a…chicken.

“Is that a chicken?” I whisper hiss at Rett who smirks down at me and gives my hand a squeeze. The warmth of his palm is instantly soothing and for a minute I’m lost to the feel of it. Part of me wants to snatch away from him, but a bigger part is reveling in the stir of emotion that the simple touch provides. I don’t pull away and his fingers only firm up, holding me tighter.

“Harper,” Rett calls a second later, his face turning soft, his smile brightening. The little girl whips her head up and her eyes go so wide I’m surprised they don’t pop out of her head. And then she beams like the first day of summer.

“Uncle Rett!” She squeals, abandoning her chicken and beelining for the man at my side. I tug my hand, ready to give the two of them some space but he doesn’t let me go. Instead, he catches the little girl one armed and manages to pull her up, squeezing her in a big hug with her legs kicking and dangling while her arms circle Rett’s neck.

“Hey, mini bestie,” Rett says to the girl with a full white grin. God he really was devastating. I was stuck on their interaction, how Rett’s entire being changed, and all his focus goes to the little girl, except for that one point of contact between us through our linked hands. As if sensing my thoughts, he gives my hand another squeeze as if to remind me he hasn’t forgotten I am here. “And how are you?”

“I’m so good!” She says happily. A sudden flurry of movement at my feet has me hopping back, the feathered thing clucking at my toes. “Pickles says hi!” Harper declares.

Rett sets Harper down on her booted feet and the girl leans down to scoop up the bird, cradling it in her arms, and the chicken literally relaxes as if this was the most normal thing for them.

“You’re pretty,” Harper gasps, turning her wide eyes on me, “Uncle Rett who’s this!?”

“Harper, meet Arryn,” Rett says charmingly, “I know she’s very pretty, isn’t she.”

“The prettiest,” Harper sways with the chicken, “Is she your girlfriend?”

I can feel my cheeks heating at their attention, my stomach knotting uncomfortably. Everett leans in and whispers something I can’t hear, but the little girl giggles with that childlike delight I’m not sure I ever felt as a kid.

She then turns to me with such an innocent open expression my heart stutters in my chest. She didn’t look at me like the rest of the world did, didn’t see me the way everyone else did, it was innocent and pure and unbiased. I always said I hated kids, didn’t like being around them but I’m wondering if that said more about me than it did them. Because they did nothing wrong whereas I have done everything wrong.

Harper is pure where I am marred.

“I want you to meet my momma!” She takes my free hand, “I think you’ll really like her.”

“You think?” I bend slightly to speak with Harper, smiling at her obvious joy.

The chicken clucks and I back away, a bit of unease blooming towards the bird. But Harper has no problem with it, she pats her head and spins on her heel, skipping toward the house. Our feet crunch across the snow and Rett helps me up the porch steps, so I don’t slip on the patches of ice. He doesn’t knock, just opens the door, watching as Harper runs on ahead and he guides me through.

The house instantly warms me. It’s rustic but modern, with clean accents mixed with more rugged details. It’s a home, smelling of coffee and pine, of something feminine and masculine. Toys lay scattered across the floor in the living room, cartoons playing unwatched on the TV above the fireplace while a fire burns steadily beneath it. There were throws on the couches and cushions on the floor, and from the kitchen I could hear the very sweet sound of feminine laughter, mingled with a deep rough chuckle that almost reminds me of Rett.

Letting go of my hand, Rett moves it to my back, almost as if he knows I’ll bolt at any minute.

This all seemed very intimate, very close and personal and I wasn’t used to that.

We come to a stop in the doorway to a kitchen, something delicious cooking on the stove and I see them.

Two people very obviously in love. She was small, with dark curls and vibrant green eyes, a smile so bright it could rival the sun where he was all dark, dark hair, tanned skin, but his eyes matched Rett’s. A dark beard frames his mouth and tattoos cover his skin. He holds the woman close to him, music playing softly as they dance in front of the stove, his large hand framing her waist as he guides her moves, bodies joined at every point they can.

---