Come to Me Quietly(53)

But he never did.

It didn’t mean I didn’t spend most nights awake trying to will it to happen.

Now I crept out into the hall. Stunned, I stilled when I found Jared sitting silently at the bar, sipping from a mug of coffee.

Motionless, I indulged, appreciated his beauty in a moment when he had no idea he was being watched. He wore a pair of jeans and a thin white V-neck tee. His bare feet were propped on the footrest, his elbows heavy on the marble bar. He seemed consumed in his thoughts, a million miles and a hundred years away. His hair was all unruly, and it appeared as if he hadn’t shaved in at least three days, this coarse stubble shadowing his strong jaw.

My fingers twitched.

I wanted to reach out and run them down the side of his face. To whisper his beauty against his ear. To tell him I saw the good, that it was alive, so transparent in his words and in his eyes.

Instead I slinked by and murmured, “Good morning,” as I passed.

I could barely discern the subtle flinch in his muscles, but it was there. I’d taken him by surprise.

He mumbled, “Morning,” into his coffee cup.

I went to the fridge, grabbed the orange juice, and poured a glass. With my back to him I spoke. It was hard to do, but I didn’t want this unease to eat at us forever. “So, no work today?”



He grunted. “It’s the Fourth… boss closed up shop today.”



The Fourth of July.

Right.

I didn’t even realize the date.

Guess I’d been fixated on something else.

I leaned up against the counter that Jared had backed me into all those weeks ago when he’d first confronted me, and thought about the day. It was funny, how much I used to look forward to this holiday, the days dense with summer’s heat, our revelry shared out in our field as we played the sunlight away. How the excitement would build as the sun began to set, and our families would gather to turn our faces to the night sky to witness the beauty of the fireworks.

It had always struck me with an overwhelming awe.

I remembered how deeply it always struck Jared, too.

I stared at the floor. Off to my right, his presence tugged at my spirit as if mine were chained to his, a tension that wound through my consciousness and congealed in the air between us.

I doubted now we’d ever escape it.

Christopher suddenly shattered the strain wrapping up the room by barreling down the hall.

“Morning,” he said as he clapped Jared on the back and came around the bar and into the kitchen. He dropped a swift kiss to my cheek. “And good morning to you, little sister.”



“Morning,” I returned, confused by the overeager man-child almost dancing in the kitchen.

“Is there milk?” he asked.

I kind of laughed as Christopher dug into the fridge. It was about three hours too early for my brother to show his face.

“Should be,” I said, grinning at his back.

He stood and flashed me a huge one.

“What has you in such a good mood this morning?” I frowned in question.

“It’s the Fourth. Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?” Christopher tipped his chin in Jared’s direction. “We haven’t all spent it together in years, and Timothy has his annual Fourth of July party planned.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Just think it’s going to be really cool to spend the night with everyone.”



Christopher had mentioned the party at Timothy’s house several weeks ago. I’d been to a few parties at his place. They were always packed, crawling with so many bodies that I usually ended up in the backyard, trying to catch a breath of fresh air.