Page 74 of Monster in the Moonlight

I picture tomorrow, waking up to a day without him here. It seems so… desolate. Which is just silly. I haven’t known him long enough to become attached, but I am.

Even now, Ellister isn’t far away, but the distance between us is too much.

I want him to be next to me.

I want his touch, his kisses, and his time—the last one most of all.

But time is the very thing I don’t have to give back to him.

Rubbing my temples, I hang my head. My dad was right about my heart. It’s already halfway invested in a man I have no business messing with.

HANNAH

It’s a beautiful night. The sun is setting, the air is crisp, and the yard is littered with lawn chairs, blankets, and families. Parents dig in their pockets and purses to exchange cash for the food before the movie starts.

Jack is walking around with his tray of goodies, and he has no shortage of customers. He’s wearing his usual denim overalls with a plain T-shirt underneath, and his fedora sits on his head like always. The only time I’ve actually seen his thinning hair is at Saturday-night dinners. I guess he’s like Ellister in that way. Some men just like hats.

With my legs folded underneath me, the pressure on my right foot makes the pins and needles worse, and I try not to let my pain show on my face.

I can feel Ellister watching me as he gets situated on a spread of blankets on the second floor of the machine shed. The movie projector is in front of us, pointed out the open hatch.

Scooting on my knees, I tinker with the fancy contraption, adjusting it so it’s aimed at the white roll-down screen on the side of the barn across the lawn. My dad splurged on the high-tech equipment a few years ago, and although my mom had been hesitant about the investment, he insisted it would pay off.

She’d said, “We’re not a drive-in movie theater.” Then when my dad told her he didn’t want to charge for the viewing? She just about had an aneurism.

But he was right. Get the people here—that’s the goal—then watch them spend their money on other merchandise, such as popcorn, snacks, and T-shirts.

My phone beeps, signaling that it’s 6:30 PM, which means it’s time.

After I’m satisfied with the position of the projector, I push play and settle in on sleeping bag I confiscated from the hayloft. Usually, I’d just lie on the blankets we keep up here, but I want the extra padding for my aching joints. Plus, I’m a little attached to the thing now. It was already my favorite sleeping bag, but after what happened on it, I’ll treasure it forever.

Propping my back against the ball of blankets and pillows, I situate myself next to Ellister and let our thighs press together.

All my pain gets zapped away.

Yesterday, being within a few feet of him made my symptoms better, but that’s not enough anymore. Now I have to be touching him to get relief.

The beginning theme song starts, blaring from the speakers that are mounted on the outside of the building.

As Ellister tends to do, he’s focused on me instead of looking straight ahead.

“What?” I spare him a quick glance. “Are you comfortable enough?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I fib, knowing my lack of talking is probably giving me away. Just to throw him off the subject of me, I wave a hand at the open hatch and ramble, “I realize the projector is sort of in the way, but you can still see, right? This is the best seat in the house if you ask me. It’s like being on a balcony.”

Unlike the hayloft where we had our little,ahem, indiscretion earlier, this place is free of dust and doesn’t smell like animals. The scent of motor oil and rubber tires lingers in the air because the steel outbuilding is where we keep all our bigger equipment, like mowers, tractors, and various trailers and wagons.

Above us, there are skylights. Choosing the skylights in the building design had been a practical decision at first—the use of natural light during the day saves money on the power bills. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the feature because I like to stargaze up here.

Ellister still isn’t giving one iota of attention to the movie. “Hannah.”

“Yes?”

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