Page 38 of Folds
I just hate the thought of not sitting outside the iron-wrought gates to the place that holds the answers to every question I have, day after day. Hill House. The idea of being away from it physically pains me.
“That reminds me.” Rowan clears his throat as he rummages through the bag slung over the back of the chair, his glasses sliding down his nose in a way that always makes me smile. The former football heartthrob turned analyst is the most charming anachronism to me.
“I saw this and couldn’t help but think of you.” He places a small black cube on the counter, pausing to push his glasses back into place with his thumb and pinky. I definitely don’t linger on how big his hands are.
“Ooh, what is it?” Sarah picks it up just long enough to hand it to me, and I echo her question.
Rowan starts to explain, but my excitement overrides my good manners, and I interrupt him with far more enthusiasm than I mean to.
“It’s a Queen of the Night!” I stare at the preserved bloom, a million things on the tip of my tongue, but somehow none of them are quite powerful enough to express how I feel about the gesture.
“I remember you said you wouldn’t see any in Svalbard because of the climate, so I figured this would be a good holdover for now.” He seems preternaturally still, as though he’s worried I might not like it. Hell, if I didn’t know any better, I would say that calm, cool and collected Rowan Downs is nervous.
“This is amazing.” It’s not nearly enough, but perhaps no words are. “Thank you, Rowan.”
“Is that the one that only blooms once?” Sarah stabilizes the teetering tension building in my chest.
“That needs fourteen hours of darkness,” Rowan confirms while I marvel at the beautifully preserved flower.
“I didn’t know they bloomed any other colour but white. Where did you get it?” My mind is immediately racing through the environmental factors that could account for the variation. If it were anyone but Rowan, I’d worry it was a fake, or a simple resin decoration with the best marketable approximation, but I know him too well. It’s nothing but authentic.
His expression shutters, but between one heartbeat and the next, his easy smile is back in place. “Shoot, I meant to bring all the information for you, I’ll get it for you before-”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but we all know. Before I leave.
Sarah sighs dramatically.
“Such a bummer,” the perky brunette takes her duties of the atmosphere protector seriously, chasing the heaviness away. “But hey, maybe some time away will be what you need. Goddessknows you must have exhausted almost every option besides breaking and entering at this point.”
I nod absently. Breaking and entering is certainlyanoption. If only our local sheriff weren’t so invested in protecting me from the abandoned house. Realistically, his devotion is misplaced. If it were something I was comfortable with, I’d have already done it.
“Is Carston still harassing you?” As if he’s read my mind, Rowan’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I revel in the fact that his tone has a hard edge to it.
“He just comes by to exchange… well, I’d say pleasantries, but that’s a misnomer.” They both chuckle, but let me continue. “And then he sits in his cruiser for a while. He circles back a couple times every night but doesn’t stop, thankfully.”
Rowan grunts, apparently satisfied with my answer. “Well, you know you can call me if he ever tries anything.”
The possessiveness in his voice elicits a physical response I am dearly hoping goes unnoticed by anyone but me. When his voice drops like that, it’s nearly guaranteed to send a shiver down my spine. Alas, outside of occasional heated glances and vocal shifts, Rowan has never acted on any of the perceived flirting that has kept my little crush alive. Firmly making it unrequited.
“He takes himself too seriously,” I agree easily, willing myself not to read too far into the tone. “But I probably don’t need to worry about him.”
“I’d agree if he had been able to muster an ounce of professionalism. He asked you out.” I have to press my thighs together to try to mute the throb between my legs.
Sarah hides a smile behind her hand. She’s also clearly noticed the indignation coming off of Rowan in waves.
“He didn’t ask me out.” I remind them. “He just said I’d probably enjoy the diner more than sitting outside in the middle of the night.”
Rowan rolls his eyes.
“Listen, I’m not crazy about the idea of you sitting outside all on your own either, but I love it if the alternative is you beinganywhere with Elias Carston.” There’s venom in the name. I have yet to pull that lore out of Sarah or Rowan, but I suspect there is more to his hatred of the sheriff than his general pompous demeanour.
Normally, I’d let the conversation drop and trail off to baked goods or local gossip, but I don’t have it in me this morning. Instead, I bring things back to the mysterious lot that no one in this town, including my friends, wants to talk about.
“Doesn’t it bother you, though? You’ve both lived here your whole lives, and Sarah, your parents have lived here their whole lives. It’s a town of 5000 people. Can no one let me on the grounds for 15 minutes to take some notes or photos? Or even tell me who I could ask?”
Rowan seems to find something entirely too fascinating on the floor, and Sarah cocks her head a fraction, as though searching for a response that might satisfy me.
I already know there isn’t one.
