When I falter on the words, he hugs me, a real, genuine hug. “Chérie d’amour, I see it in your eyes, but I would much rather hear you say it.”
My determination crumbles. “I care about you. A lot.”
His eyes melt, a smile flirting at his lips, though it vanishes quickly. “But it scares you.”
I open my mouth to speak, but he places a single finger over my lips. “It scares me too.”
“I don’t want to make it worse.”
“You don’t. I don’t need someone else to put up a front for me. My family does that every day. I need someone to share this with, someone who understands that some days I might need to cry about it, while others I might need you to kiss me until I forget a world even exists outside of your lips.”
I laugh because he does. “How will I know?” My fingers nervously play with the edge of his shirt. “I don’t want to be a burden to you.”
“You’ll know,” he says, tugging on the end of my hair. “Like right now.” He scoots closer, his lips pressing against my cheek as he speaks. “Tell me, which do you think I need right now?”
He leans in, and I freeze.
A door creaks behind us, and Julien immediately jumps away from me. I turn, my cheeks already burning with embarrassment.
Would have I let him kiss me?
A petite figure stands watching us. A small smile curves her lips. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says ever so kindly, wiping her hands on the flowered apron around her waist. “But dinner is ready.”
It isn’t until she smiles that I see the full resemblance to Julien in her features. Though she is short, and her hair a soft brown, her piercing blues eyes and kind smile are enough to tie her to her grandson.
Julien takes my hand, though his grip is shaky. “Grandma, I’d like you to meet—”
“I know who she is, Julien.”
He swallows loudly before turning to me. His smile looks strained, but then I realize it’s because he’s scared. “Wilhelmina, this is my grandmother, Rebekah.”
I manage a smile and a wave. I think.
Rebekah’s face is solemn before she finally smiles back. “Come inside,” she says, motioning us in. “Like I said, dinner is ready.”
I nod, following Julien as he holds the front door open for us. The house is even bigger than the exterior suggested. The large living room leads into an even grander kitchen and private dining area. Rebekah already has the long table full of plates and steaming food, urging us to take a seat while she washes up. I sit next to Julien, my stomach rumbling at the delicious smells, but my hands shake nervously beneath the table.
“So,” Rebekah joins us at the table, “tell me something about yourself, Wilhelmina, that I haven’t heard from the hundreds of nosy neighbors who ring my phone off the hook every day.”
Julien’s eyes are round, and Rebekah smiles curtly at him. “What? Did you actually believe you could run around with an Innocent without half the town breathing down my neck about it?”
Julien’s head jerks up. “You knew?”
“That you weren’t going to the orchard for apples today? Yes. Hence why you’ll be having blackberry cobbler for dessert.”
Julien’s brows pull together. “Why didn’t you say something?”
“And miss you fumbling for another excuse? What fun is there in that?”
His mouth drops open.
“Oh, please, Julien. Even without the phone calls, it would have been obvious. You haven’t stopped smiling since the Heritage Festival. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve seen you smile like that?”
He straightens his shoulders, trying not to sound annoyed. “What about your rules?”
“If it was any other girl, I would have tanned your hide all the way back to the Ridge.” She smiles genuinely at him, like she’s waited years to smile at him like that. “Wilhelmina is one of the Innocent. She is different.”
“But you said—”
She looks directly at me. “You are strong. You know what he is capable of and what he will become when we lose him.”
I nod.
“You chose him anyway?”
Again, with the choosing today. I nod.
“My daughter never had that choice,” she says stoically. “She wouldn’t have chosen differently, because she loved Julien too much for that, but we all deserve to choose our own fate.”
Julien stares down at the table, and I know he wishes that were true. He deserves to be able to choose between good and evil, to control his own nature. To be born with your ending already written is a horrible way to live.
“When did you lose her?” I ask, looking at both of them.
Julien sinks back in his chair and closes his eyes. Rebekah answers me. “Julien was only a child. A fight broke out in Charleston, back before the Prescott and Cotes families had the uneasy truce they do now. François’s father and eldest brother were both killed in the fight, and the transformation occurred instantly.”
Julien finally opens his eyes, his voice heavy. “We’d just finished eating dinner. My mom went upstairs to put me down for a nap while my dad started washing dishes. No one really knows what happened, but they think my mom put up a fight. Dishes were broken in the kitchen, lamps in the living room, and finally her body was found outside. An officer found me asleep in my bed.”
I left my seat, my arms engulfing him. I couldn’t stop myself. The hurt and pain in his eyes are too close to my own. We’ve lived such different lives but suffered through death, abandonment, and loneliness. I have to find a way to explain to Reid that I have to be here for Julien. Everyone deserves comfort and friendship.
“You’ve made your choice,” Rebekah whispers, her words spoken as fact.
At first I think she is talking to me, but Julien squeezes me tight against him. “I didn’t want this to happen,” he tells her. “I would have never risked it. I only wanted a friend.”
It is more than that now, at least for Julien. My own heart is torn. The line between friendship and something more isn’t as straight as I thought. There are curves and exceptions. I feel lost in the maze of it.
Rebekah watches me. Studies me. She knows I am still on the edge. “Let’s eat,” she says, “and enjoy our time together now.”
It was a reminder. There isn’t much time left. Eventually they will all make me choose.
We eat in relative silence. Once we scrape our plates clean, I join Julien in the kitchen to wash the dishes. When I continue my tortured silence, Julien splashes me with water in an attempt to lighten the mood. “You’re worrying about me again.”
“I was only thinking.” I purposely drop a glass into his side of the sink so it overflows onto his shirt. He gapes at me, shocked. Mischief forms behind his smile when his grandmother sits down at the bar behind us.
“You’re lucky,” he mouths, glancing over his shoulder at her.
I smirk before dropping another glass that sends water flying all the way up to his face. A tiny soap bubble pops on the end of his nose. Rebekah chuckles behind us, and that is all the encouragement Julien needs to send a handful of water in my direction. I laugh, backing up with my hands in the air to block the onslaught. “I give up!”
“You think I’m letting you off the hook that easily?” he asks, looking down at his soaked shirt.
“Yes?” I reply with a laugh, looking over at his grandmother for help.
Rebekah smiles softly, standing up to put herself between us. “I’m with Wilhelmina on this one. You two are making a mess.”
“I’ll help clean up before we go.”
She stops short. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
Rebekah sighs, her response to her grandson’s vagueness.
“What?” he inquires. “I still have to give a minute-by-minute itinerary?”
“I just want to know if I’m going to have to spend my afternoon fielding phone calls.”
“We will keep away from the crowds,” he says, as if com
plying is a chore. “Satisfied?”
She shoots him an annoyed look. “That depends. Is there anything else I need to know about the two of you?”
Julien casually throws his arm over my shoulder. “We are getting married next week.” He grins. “Vegas.”
Her lips purse.
“He’s joking,” I blurt out.
“I know.” Rebekah crossed her arms over her chest. “My grandson thinks he’s a comedian.”
“Someone has to.” He steps up to my side. “Do you mind if we go now?”
She turns away from us, and he rolls his eyes. He walks over to her, wraps his arms around her, and kisses her head.
“You know you’re my favorite grandmother, right?”
“You keep telling me that.” She sighs dramatically.
“I’ll keep meaning it too.”
She pats his arm. “Go have fun. Not too much, but enjoy this time you have with her.”
Then she gives me a look. It’s simple.
Choose.
Chapter 17
THE OLD CHAPEL
The square is alive as ever. The crowds thicken after the dinner rush. Julien guides me down a couple side streets in search of privacy. He takes my hand as we walk down the alley, not bothering to even look at me. A breeze whistles around us, through the long hanging limbs of the weeping willow next to the church. Julien pauses as soon as it comes into view. “I’m sorry about all that earlier.” He squeezes my hand. “It would have been much worse if she couldn’t see how amazing you are.”
I wrap my hands around his arm. “It’s okay, Julien. I wouldn’t have wanted to go through that alone either.”
“Thank you.”
My head falls over against his shoulder as we continue to walk. “So where are you taking me?”
“Someplace quiet, secluded, and hopefully, slightly romantic.” He looks down at me and smiles. “I’ll let you reserve judgment on that last one.”
I don’t answer, but a tickle of guilt twinges in my chest. We continue down the alley toward the chapel. The same chapel I met him in front of at the festival. It looks different in the darkness. Less daunting. I could no longer see the broken panes of glass and chipped edges of brick. “Wait until you see the view,” he says, leading me up the steps.
I halt midway up, looking back over my shoulder. “Are we allowed to do this?” I ask. “Isn’t it after hours?”
“This isn’t an actual, functioning chapel, Wilhelmina.” Julien smirks at me, pulling the rusty front door open. “It’s just a historical landmark now.”
“Oh.” I walk in, taking in the beautiful mahogany walls. “I think I would still feel weird having a date in a church.”
His eyes rise in surprise. “Is that what you think this is?”
I walk further into the old, forgotten sanctuary. The high ceiling looms over my head. “It isn’t?”
The door creaks shut behind us, and though he gives me space to wander around, I still feel his presence near me. He walks down the center aisle with his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t know whether that was still an option for us.”
“Really? So that almost kiss earlier—that was you testing the waters?”
He grins. “That was me not giving a shit about Reid Thomas.”
I furrow my brow, but he steps closer. His hip touches mine, his hand snaking around my back. “I don’t give up easily. It’s not in my nature.” He steps back, opening a small hidden door in the wall.
I pause, a little dazed by the close encounter. There is definitely something about the Haunted that makes them irresistible.
I peek up the shadowy staircase, but he maneuvers in front of me. “Just follow me.”
He grabs my hand and leads me up the steep, winding stairs until we slide through a tiny opening into a spacious room I assume is the attic. It’s empty, except for a few random sets of old benches and dusty boxes. In the far front of the room is a giant stained glass window that looks out over the street. I can see the missing pieces much easier now.
“How did you ever find this?” I trot over to the glass to look out at the street.
“Sometimes I just need a place to be alone.” Julien’s hand wraps around my shoulder. “This place looked empty enough at the time. Of course that was five years ago, but I still like coming back here. It’s peaceful.”
“That it is.” I sit in front of the window, running my hands over the intricate pieces of glass. He sits behind me, his forehead falling against the back of my shoulder. He sighs.
“What’s wrong?” I finally ask when he doesn’t speak.
“I’m sorry about this week. I know I’ve been acting weird.”
I turn into him, pulling his face up. “Why are you apologizing to me? I’m the one—”
“Reid, I can handle. He kissed you. I don’t like it, but I’ll get over it.” He frowns. “I left that night because of me.”
“What do you mean?”
He closes his eyes, shifting his face from me. “I left that night because of the other me. There is something about you, Wilhelmina, that makes my control slip.”
I involuntarily move away from him, and he lets me.
“I lost control that night on the square, and I lost control when he kissed you. That isn’t acceptable on my part. I’m sorry.”
“That’s why you’ve been acting weird all week,” I say, touching his cheek. “Why you’ve been avoiding me?”
“I promised you that wouldn’t happen. I gave you my word you’d always be safe with me. I had to make sure I could handle it if it ever happened again.”
He had to make sure he wouldn’t lose it if I chose Reid over him. He didn’t say it. He didn’t have to say it. The fear of it is evident in the shaky tone of his voice.
“This thing, whatever it is, between you, Reid, and me. It has to stop. It needs to stop now.”
“Forgive me,” he says weakly, as if he hasn’t heard a word I just said.
“What?”
“You promised to take my life when the curse takes me. I also need to know you’ll forgive me for whatever I might do or say before that happens.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I’m serious, Willa. You wouldn’t believe the thoughts he slips in my mind when I let my guard down. He spikes my temper for no reason. He tries to take the way I feel about you and make it evil.”
The fear in Julien’s eyes is deep.
“Forgive me.”
I kiss him. I do it to stop the pain I hear in his voice. I promised I would be here for him, and somehow I know this isn’t the time he needs to cry.
So I kiss him. It doesn’t feel like goodbye until he puts his hand in my hair.
“Forgive me,” he says again, pulling away just long enough to repeat this final request. “I need to hear you say it, Wilhelmina.”
“Yes.” I kiss his cheek, holding his face in my palms, forcing him to look at me. “I promise.”
He pulls me into his lap, and my head goes to his shoulder. I hold him like that, tight in my arms, refusing to let go. I can’t let go of him. Not yet.
His lips touch my neck, but we both pause. A wooden floorboard bends under the pressure of someone’s weight.
Before I can move, Julien is on his feet, crouched in front of me and hissing at the darkness. Only seconds later, my heart stops as my thoughts finally catch up, and I realize we are no longer alone.
My world spins around me in a blur, a wild combination of screams, curses, and greedy hands pulling at my flesh.
Attacked.
It is all I can think while I become entangled in this war between Julien’s protective embrace and my unknown enemy. I yelp as Julien tears my arm from their grasp, blood erupting from the trace of their fingernails across my skin. We stumble backward, Julien’s arms wrapping tightly around my waist, and then I hear the crash.
Glass shatters around my body, stinging as it cuts through me, but I can barely register the pain. We fall, the cool night air rushing around
us as my stomach churns with nausea, because I know what will come next. I try to stop it, to place a barrier between us, but the ground is hard.
My bones crack against the impact, and my ribs and elbow tear themselves away from the rest of my body. Blood is everywhere now, dripping onto my lips and smearing across my shirt. My eyes find Julien, but he isn’t looking at me. He’s hurt too, but his eyes remain transfixed up at the giant window from which we’d fallen. When I look up, someone stands next to the gaping hole, his mouth drawn back into a snarl.
It’s my stalker. I hadn’t seen him clearly through my window that night, but now I know this is the man. Julien groans as he begins to scramble to his feet and pulls me along with him. I cry out in agony, but I know better than to resist. “Run, Willa!” Julien begs, lifting me to my feet. “We’ve got to go!”
My feet move forward, though my attention remains on the terrifying man in the window. He growls openly at me, and I would have flinched if it weren’t for the front door of the chapel swinging open at that moment. A tall, dark figure steps through the entry into the light, and I gasp. I don’t recognize him, but the look on his face brings a whole new fear to my heart.
The boy can’t be older than I am, but he steps through that door like he owns it. His brown hair is cropped short, his black glasses matching the collared shirt and blazer. Everything about him looks precise, neat, but his face reads vengeance.
“Catch her,” he says simply, glancing briefly over his shoulder as if the whole situation bores him.
Julien tugs me harder, but I can’t stop staring as four men emerge from the chapel. I finally find the courage to turn and run like my life depends on it. The pain in my ribs flares with every step, but I manage to keep up with Julien’s quick pace. We run down the street, darting between buildings, down abandoned alleyways, until we hit the edge of the woods surrounding the small park. “We are a half mile from the courthouse,” he yells into my ear. “We need Abby and Sadie.”
I nod in understanding, taking a moment to wipe blood away from my eyes. Now that I have a sense of direction and purpose, I focus my waning energy toward it. I don’t dare look back. They are closing in fast. My heart contracts with every step they gain on us. Even now, I can’t forget the face of the boy who sent them after us. His calm exterior unnerves me, like he already knows we are caught and his mission is accomplished.
Frog Hollow (Witches of Sanctuary Book 1) Page 18
