Page 9 of Knotting Before Them
Wylder’s eyes were bright with hope, and I hated that for him. It helped with nothing, brought nothing but pain.
We were meant to be alone.
Alone in this house.
On this mountain.
Before they could say another word, the front door opened once again, bringing the icy wind with it. The girl in the orange puffy coat stepped in, her thick black hair wet with snow.
“It was cold, even inside the car,” she said, looking accusingly at Theo.
“Julia…” Theo breathed out, going to her, but she ignored him.
“Theo told you I can pay?” she said directly to me. “I can. I can pay whatever you want.”
“I don’t want your money,” I barked.
She was small, but her chin rose in challenge. The freckles across the bridge of her nose were like stardust, her cheeks high and rosy from the cold. I recoiled from the brightness.
She was too much.
Too interesting, too intense, even though she only said a few things.
My gut twisted as I sensed her perfume invading our home. I bet it was torture for Theo to keep her in the car.
But no.
No to Theo.
No to her.
No to everything.
“I need this,” she pleaded, looking me in the eye. “I know I need to be close to the mountain. I know it’s what’s going to make the difference.”
My lips parted to refuse her, but Wylder was faster. “Why?”
Her eyes left me to focus on him, and suddenly, inexplicably, I missed her terribly. It was like when the sun disappeared on the horizon, leaving nothing but cold and night.
“My parents were famous painters. Everyone knew them. Now that they’ve passed, people expect something from me. I had no idea what I wanted to create until this mountain. I just saw it, and I knew.”
“You knew?” Wylder asked with wonder in his voice.
I growled with a warning, grabbing the attention of the newcomer.
“I won’t be on your way. I’m just here for a couple of weeks, and then you’ll never see me again. I promise.”
“Jules…” Theo started.
Nicknames already?
It wasn’t unreasonable to want her out of the house. In all the years we’d lived in this house together, not once had we invited someone to stay, and definitely not a stranger. A tourist. A woman.
This soil was sacred, our home filled with the energy of what never was. We all knew the reality was too sad to invite people in.
“You can stay in the room upstairs.” That came from Wylder.
I whipped my head in his direction, a curse dislodging itself from my throat. We all looked at him, the girl more surprised than any of us, but Wylder never took his eyes off her, avoiding me completely.