“Oh. I wouldn’t want to impose then.”
He caught her hand when she started to get up. “No. Don’t go. I don’t mind sharing with you.”
She smiled and sat back down, but refused to let go of his hand when he tried to pull it back. That small gesture pleased him more than he thought possible. He stroked his thumb over her palm, and she glanced at him from under her thick lashes.
“I come here when I want to think or need some space.”
She looked around carefully. “It’s certainly a perfect place for that.” She cleared her throat and stared at him.
“What?”
“I was just wondering why you are willing to share this with me when you’ve been guarded with everything else.”
He frowned. He guessed she was right. He was guarded with things, but he had a good reason to be. “I don’t have much to talk about. I came here, went through the reformation program, and that was that. As far as my past, I don’t have anything good to say about it, so why say anything at all?”
“I see. I wouldn’t mind listening if you ever wanted to talk about it.” She gave his hand another squeeze.
Then the strangest thing happened. He found he actually wanted to tell her about his past, about all the horrifying things he’d been through, witnessed, not because he wanted to lay that kind of shit on her, but because he suddenly needed to tell someone for some reason.
If she knew, would she think of him differently? Would she look upon on him as if he were an uncaring monster? He didn’t want to risk it, yet deep in his heart, he was aware that if there was ever to be a future for him and Melony, at some point he’d have to tell her everything. But that was the point. There wouldn’t be a future for them, not in the real world, not if she found out about his past.
“Believe me when I say that you definitely don’t want to hear about it.”
She reached up and tenderly stroked her fingers down his cheek. “If it has to do with you, I want to hear about it, but only when you are ready, Lorent. I don’t want to push you into anything. I never want you to feel uncomfortable with me.”
70
Lycan Christmas
S. K. Yule
“Why do you care?” He sighed and leaned into her touch before he could stop himself from doing so.
He looked into her eyes, waiting for her answer, as she pursed her lips as if perplexed by his question. If she had any idea how that one endearing action made him crave to crush his lips against hers, she’d probably slap him. Or maybe not. After all, she had been the one to kiss him at the Learning Center.
“Why do I care? For one, you are a fellow human, er, well, you know what I mean, and secondly, I kind of like you. I will admit that you are a walking contradiction. At one turn you are telling me all about the trees and how you can cook, and the next thing I know, you’re shutting down over the simplest question.”
“You like me?” His heart thundered in his chest.
“Of course. I mean, I know we haven’t known one another for long, but I think you are a nice man. Everyone else thinks so as well, but I get the distinct impression that they are worried about you because you are so shy.”
“I’m not shy. Not really. I just like to keep to myself. I’d consider myself reserved, maybe, but not shy.”
“Okaaay. Well, that’s not a bad thing as long as it doesn’t keep you from interacting with others altogether.” She frowned for a moment. “Let me put it this way, and I have no proof of what I’m about to say. It’s pure speculation on my part. No one has told me anything about you other than you are shy and a good man. I’m going to make an assumption here, though, that maybe the others are worried because you haven’t talked to anyone about your past?”
He nodded.
“People who refuse to talk about their past obviously have things in it that they wish to forget, painful things that they’d like to keep buried. The problem with that is that sometimes the things you try so hard to push away are the things that tend to push hardest back, the things that end up eating away at you.”
She was right, and he figured he understood why she knew that. “Like how you won’t talk about your mother’s accident?”
Her eyes darkened, and he wanted to kick himself for bringing it up. “Son of a bitch.
I’m sorry, Melony.”
71
Lycan Christmas
S. K. Yule
“No. No. You are right. I’ll tell you sometime about my mother’s accident and why I don’t like to talk about it. I’m just not ready yet. But her death was fairly recent. Are the things you refuse to talk about as recent?”
“Touché.” She had a point.
There was a difference in needing time to heal from things that happened before talking about them and running from them for years. It was time that he opened up about his past, but he was too damned scared he’d frighten her off if she found out about it. How could she still care for him, view him as a good man once she knew about the things he’d allowed to happen right in front of him?
“How about, for now, we enjoy this gorgeous night?” She leaned back and stared
