Blakeshire (Insight #9)(47)

“What did they do to you?” she asked as look of concern crept across her face.

“On the surface, nothing that ever seemed damaging. It was just words, words that would linger in your mind late at night. Words that I still hear.”

“You hear him now?” she asked as her hand tightened around mine.

“Not right now, but often.” I relaxed my body into my seat.

It was almost like telling her that I had knocked down another brick in the wall that was dividing the two of us. “It feels like ice…coldness running through my soul, through my heart. The only way to stop the pain of it is to find anger. Yet, in the long run that makes it worse because when you are angry you say and do things that you know are wrong—that you know you will regret, but you don’t care because right then your way is the only way that matters.”

“Is that the coldness you are trying to get over, the bubble you have to pass before you’ll go and see your father?”

The air grew tight. She was on point, almost too much so. I couldn’t figure out why she was so focused on my father. Yesterday while she slept I spoke to Landen. We both agreed that we have to be honest about our past with our girls. That if we let them deeper into our souls, we could, in some way, save them from this attack on their insights that they both yielded as weapons.

I was the one that gave him that advice, but now I’m certain my words are haunting me. I didn’t want her to see me as a murderer, but I didn’t want to justify that I had killed my father because I was too focused on Willow at the moment to care. And truth be told, even before those last few brash weeks of my father’s life, the mood between us was never balanced. I blamed him and my mother for letting me live through what I did. I would have protected my family. I didn’t feel that my father did.

“I just can’t go and see him when I know that anger is still within me. In my mind, that would be like me walking up to him with Donalt at my side. I have to become the man my father never knew me to be before I face him again.”

“I think you already are that man. Inside, you are.”

I needed to hear that. Creator help me, I truly did.

“I’m still cold,” I murmured. I should have brought some ginger with me. I was overdue for one of Donalt’s attacks, and I doubted that Zander would be able to pop in and save the day as he had for years. I told myself I was too happy right now for him to invade me—I hoped I was right.

She let the conversation rest at that point. I was falling hard for her. She knew when to push me and when to let go. Every man needed a woman like that.

I glanced at her; she was deep in thought. Every once in a while, she would fist her hands and hold her breath. She was deep in her mind, and my instincts told me she was reliving the dream she refused to tell me about. It also made me think that she was aware of whatever three sacrifices Zander had all but swore I would have to make with this trial of Saturn. I couldn’t ask her because I doubted she knew what she knew, and I didn’t want to scare her.

Moments later, she spoke again. “What was your father’s favorite candy? Peppermint?”

I glanced at her like she was insane. Where did that come from? “I don’t think I saw him ever eat candy—why?”

“Does he smell like mint?”

I furrowed my brow as a perplexed grin came over me. “No, coffee usually.”

Now she was the one looking at me like I was crazy. Her mesmerizing green eyes were rushing across my face. She always had that look when she was trying to consume as much information as possible, and apparently she was coming up empty with this search. She was biting one side of her bottom lip, an adorable gesture. I reached to caress her lip, silently telling her to just ask whatever she wanted to know.

“You’re not going to tell me why you asked something so random?” I asked in a low tone as she let a breath out. I loved how she responded to my every touch. I really did.

“It’s not all that random. You smell like mint.” She blushed. “You taste like mint.”

“I smell like mint?” I repeated, raising my brow.

“Sometimes roses.”

“You’re not serious.”

“No one has ever told you that? You can’t smell it? Taste it?”

“No,” I said with an innocent grin, “and I’m trying to figure out if I should be flattered or offended.”

“Kinda my favorite flavor right now.”

A sinful grin took possession of my lips. “And how did that link you back to my father?”

“Because for some reason in my head, I think your father smells like peppermint.”

“Must be a solitary trait.”

“Was he angry? Like, did he embrace that emotion?” she asked.

That smile of mine just expanded as I shook my head. “No, my mother carried enough anger for the both of them. He wasn’t passive. He was just curious and patient. A lot like August.”

August was my grandfather, but I had only known of him for a few months. I resonated with him immediately.

“Then I’m going to love him,” she said confidently.

I had lost track of the conversation. My heart was starting to thunder. We were seconds away from what I was dying to show her. My last test.



Madison



“Close your eyes,” he said to me.