Page 43 of Harnessed in Gold

I suck in a breath, spine going rigid.

He takes his eyes off the road long enough to pin me with a stare. “Just listen to me, please. Let me say my piece.”

When I open my mouth to protest, he silences me, “Betts, please.”

I bite my lip and turn away. He can say whatever he wants, but he’s going to have to say it to the back of my head. Because if I look at him right now, I’ll cry.

“You remember the other night? When I crashed the tree in front of your door?”

Do I remember? Seriously? How could I not? I was terrified, and furious, and so utterly confused. Funny thing is, if you look at the poor pine tree now, you’d never know Leo used it as a blockade. It’s completely back to normal.

I, however, am still bent in half and shedding needles.

At my slight nod, Leo continues, voice deep and firm, “I meant everything I said to you that night. Yes, I pretended to be someone I wasn’t, but I never pretended to have feelings I don’t have.”

Once again, I’m trapped on the stone steps to my dorm, a bowing pine tree behind me, and Leo in front, his dark eyes full of angst.

Betts, please.

Please, what? What do you want, Leo?

You.

How my heart leapt in hope when he said that.You.I almost let myself give in.

Since that night, it’s been easier to convince myself he doesn’t care. So much safer. But I don’t think I have that defense anymore. Not when I know what a chuisle mo chroí means. Not when he watches me every second we’re in the same room.

Not when I can feel his torment.

I force ragged breaths into my lungs and dig my nails into my folded arms. Out of my peripheral vision, I see his hand reaching for me, but it never makes contact.

“I’m not asking you to forgive me,” he says. “But please tell me you believe me.”

I bite hard on the inside of my mouth, frightening away the sting in my eyes.

“Betts—”

The plea in his voice melts my will. I turn to him just long enough to nod.

“Youdobelieve me?”

“Yes.” I believe him. I can give him that much. But I still can’t trust him.

He licks his lips and nods back, shifting his gaze to the road and saying nothing more.

We leave downtown and follow the winding highway into the forested outskirts of Alderford. Bare trees and mud dominate the landscape, but it’s beautiful in a wistful, longing sort of way.

Leo pulls off the two-lane road onto a narrow, paved driveway that twists even deeper into the woods. It seems we’re heading nowhere when, out of the blue, the trees part to reveal a pretty white church, complete with a steeple. It could use a fresh coat of paint, but it’s otherwise in good shape for a building that’s likely over a century old.

In the small parking lot, I watch an older couple and a family with two kids walk from their cars to the entrance. The congregation doesn’t look large enough for Leo and me to hide in, but that’s the point. Hopefully the Wests will notice us and strike up a conversation after the service.

As we approach the porch, Leo’s fingers brush mine. I think it’s an accident until I feel it again. He’s looking down at me, eyebrows raised expectantly. Because, yeah, for the next ninety minutes, we’re supposed to play the happy couple. Good thing we’re both experts atpretending. He folds my offered hand into the warmth of his and keeps it there until we find a pew near the back of the church.

Everyone nearby greets us with handshakes and welcoming smiles, but with the organ already playing, no one attempts to make conversation. The weak late-winter sun shines through the stained-glass windows alongside the pews, and on each sill sits one battery-operated candle with a flickering lightbulb. Not a single one is burnt out. Or dusty. I breathe in the scents of musty hymnals and Bibles, wood polish, and a spicy aftershave that reminds me of my dad.

Unlike the church I went to as a kid, the folks here sing loud and proud. I listen and follow along in the hymnal, but I don’t open my mouth. I can’t sing—as in, I’m completely tone-deaf. Leo, on the other hand, is not. I don’t know why I’m surprised he has a pleasant singing voice, considering the deep, smooth way he speaks, but I’m impressed by how effortlessly he hits every note.

Today’s reading is from 1 Kings 19. Eager to be distracted by a good story, I reach for a Bible, but only hymnals sit in the rack in front of me. I glance Leo’s way and see an open Bible already resting on his knee. Confidently, he thumbs through the pages. He’s probably read it from start to finish,andthe Apocrypha. I’m sure, for a faerie anthropologist studying humankind, it’s required reading.