Watcher in the Woods (Rockton #4)(9)

He shakes his head and take another bite, avoiding the topic of his birth parents altogether, as usual.

“I’m not sure April ever saw issues with our parents,” I say. “I was the underachiever. The disappointment.”

“So April piles on and treats you like shit, too?” He shakes his head. “I knew you weren’t close. I didn’t know it was this bad. Otherwise, I’d have found another solution for Kenny.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Another two bites. Then, “I still wish you’d talk about it more. Your family.”

“I will when you will.”

He stops mid-bite and nods, acknowledging the point. That’s all he does, though. Acknowledges it and keeps eating.

“I don’t talk about it because I don’t want to go back there,” I say. “I’ve moved on. I know I sometimes push myself too hard because I still hear their voices, but you make sure I don’t overdo it. My life isn’t all about my job anymore, and that wasn’t entirely their fault.”

“I know.”

“I’m not the messed-up kid I used to be. April will see it and . . .” I shrug. “Even thinking that puts me right back there. When I was little, I wanted her attention so badly. More than I ever wanted my parents’. I’d do goofy things to make her smile. I’d find interesting science tidbits to make her listen. It never worked, and instead of backing off, I’d just try harder, make a fool of myself.”

“You were a kid who wanted her big sister to notice her. That’s normal. Remember what Jacob said, about how he’d follow me to my hideaway, go in after and play with my stuff? I feel bad about that. He wanted my attention, and sometimes I just had to be alone.”

“Sometimes. That’s the difference. You needed a break from being a big brother, and April . . .” I lean back in my seat. “There was nothing to take a break from. There was no relationship there. I thought I’d accepted that, and then I find myself right back in that old dynamic. I want her to see what I see here. In the Yukon. In Rockton. I’m like that little kid, hoping for a reaction, and ultimately, making a fool of myself.”

“Pointing out a moose is ‘making a fool of yourself”?”

I give him a look.

“I do know what you mean,” he says. “Reminds me of when you first came here. You’d show sparks of interest—in the animals, the landscape, the life—and I’d jump on it . . . and then you’d back off. I’m the one who felt like the over-eager kid, tripping over myself to impress you.”

“Uh, I don’t remember anything vaguely like tripping over yourself. I do remember that I was worried about seeming too interested in Rockton and maybe . . .” I slant a glance his way. “Too interested in you.”

“I definitely don’t remember that.”

“You were fascinating and infuriating and just . . . unique. I couldn’t tell what to make of you. I just knew that I wanted to get to know you better.”

“I felt the same about you. I also felt like I tripped over myself chasing those sparks of interest.”

“While I was trying to play it cool. We learn that, don’t we? Hit high school and you need to chill, tone it down, which usually means showing no interest in anything.”

“Good thing I never went to high school.”

“Yeah, it’s crazy, huh? But I didn’t come from an exuberant, expressive family to begin with, so I know I can be . . . what’s the word you used? Reserved.”

“You can.”

I look up at him. “You do know I’m happy here, right? Even if I’m not screaming it at the top of my lungs?”

“I do.”

“And you know how I feel about you.”

He hesitates, and my heart slams against my ribs.

“I’m crazy about you,” I say. “I hope you know that. I say I love you, but that always seems weak. This is . . .” I take a deep breath. “It’s miles beyond anything I’ve felt before.”

“Yeah, I know.” He eases back in his chair and smirks. “I just like to hear you say it.”

“Jerk.”

“Not asshole? Pretty sure that deserved an asshole.”

“I’m being nice to you, because I’m done.”

I walk over and straddle his lap. “And I was promised dessert.”

“Pretty sure I never actually . . .” He watches as I shed my shirt and bra. “My mistake. I definitely promised dessert.”

“Just not in the kitchen.”

He laughs and then scoops me up and carries me past Storm, out of the kitchen.

*

We’re out for a walk. Just the two of us, which feels like parents sneaking away on their kid. As much as Storm loves her jaunts, sometimes we need to take one without her, relax and enjoy the night as a couple.

It’s past midnight, the sun finally dipping below the horizon. It’s warm, too. I haven’t spent a summer here, but I’m told to expect temperatures in the low-to mid-twenties—Celsius, that is—which is damn near perfect for me, having never been fond of hot and humid.

Despite the romantic stroll, we aren’t completely slacking off. We’re also patrolling the town’s borders. Warmer temperatures mean residents throw off the shackles of the long, cold, dark winter, and they go a little crazy, also throwing off the rules that keep them inside our boundaries. There isn’t a fence around Rockton. The council tried that, but it just made people feel like they were in an armed camp. Better to treat them like adults. Which works better when they act like it. We’ve already had incidents this spring, with people sneaking off for a moonlight walk—or moonlight sex—in the woods.