Page 31

“What are you missing now?”

Mirth lights Oscar’s brown eyes. “I’m still figuring that out.”

I know. It’s why I don’t kiss him when I really, really want to. It’s why I don’t let my mind tear around the farm in search of a good place to do lots of other things. If I think too hard about it, I’ll find somewhere. I’ll act on it, and even if Oscar goes along with it, instinct tells me he’s not all the way there yet.

If ever.

I heed the warning my subconscious throws up and put some space between us. I think Oscar makes some kind of sound, but I’m not sure. And then I’m derailed by the rain erupting outside, sudden in a way that seems unique to this wild coastline.

A moment later, strange pressure hits the air. Lightning flashes and I realise I’ve missed the sky turning from blue to steel grey, and the wind growing thick and metallic.

Seconds pass.

Then thunder rolls loud enough it rattles my feet, but I don’t notice Oscar moving until he’s behind me, and I feel his arms circle my waist, and his body mould to my back with something quieter than desire but every bit as charged.

He holds me as though the storm is trying to drag him somewhere else.

Somewhere beyond this ramshackle house and the rain hammering the old roof hard enough I sense violence without sound. There’s no fear in his grip, but it means something. His embrace feels as though he wants to shield us both from whatever emotion it stirs in him. From the flashes scarring the horizon.

He takes another slow breath, as if he needs reminding where he is.

I rest my hands over his.

Say nothing.

I don’t think he speaks either and we stand together in the mouth of the broken down wall while the storm breaks around us. Until the worst of it passes, his hold loosens, and he grasps my shoulders to turn me around.

“I must go home.”

“It’s still raining.”

“I am not averse to getting wet, my friend.”

Lightning flares. I point at the sky. At the wind and the rain.

Oscar seems to grow taller. “I am not afraid of storms either. Perkūnas doesn’t want to keep me.”

I want you.

“I never thought you were scared,” I say instead. “And whoever doesn’t want you is a fool.”

Oscar smiles and it’s as perfect as the rest of him. As perfect as this moment can be without his lips on mine. He repeats the word I couldn’t decipher and lifts his shirt a little, revealing the expanse of his midriff again, and pointing to one of too many tattoos to count—a mythical image with script beneath it. “Perkūnas is the god of storms in Lithuania, among other things. My grandmother believes I will never drown with his image etched on my body.”

“She’s right so far, eh?”

Oscar’s smile becomes an otherworldly shade of gorgeous and I’m the one drowning. Literally can’t look away and I don’t even try.

But he really is leaving and I have to let him.

I walk him to the front door, but he won’t let me take a step outside.

“Rest,” he tells me. “You have had a long day. And Poet?”

“Yeah?”

“You are not inconsequential to me.”

Three days pass.