These Thorn Kisses (St. Mary’s Rebels 3)

With that, Conrad lets the file go and my dad’s hand snatches to catch it before it can slip and fall to the floor.

And then his eyes land on me, the man I’m in love with and who I thought I’d never get to see again.

Directly, unabashedly.

As if he knew I was standing there, by the stairs and as soon as he focuses on me, he begins to walk over, his footsteps loud and sure.

So loud that I think people have started to notice.

Well, they’d already started to notice that something was wrong when Conrad had arrived with angry eyes. And then my dad intercepted him and had a heated exchange. And now my dad looks like he’s been struck, his features all tight and shocked and angry.

Not to mention, me.

I was standing by the stairs, all frozen and afraid, watching them.

So yeah, I think they know.

And I think my dad is going to do something. That any second now, he will come out of his stupor and stop Conrad from approaching me.

But he doesn’t.

Nothing happens.

On the outside at least.

On the inside, my body is chaos and things explode when he reaches me and rasps, “Hey.”

Even now when I think danger surrounds us in the form of my dad and so many people here, I can’t help but think that this is his first – very first – greeting to me.

Usually, I’m the one who smiles and greets him but this time it’s him.

He smiles or rather his lips pull up an inch or two as he stares down at me.

“What are you… You can’t be here,” I tell him unable to think of anything else to say.

While his jean blue eyes were all cold and dangerous when he was looking at my father, they are all warm and shiny now. “I told you I’d come for you.”

“But my dad. He will… What did you give him? What’s in that file?”

His jaw goes tight before he replies, “Something that will get him to back off.”

“Back off how?”

His eyes sweep over my face, unafraid and confident. “I promised that you wouldn’t have to do this again, remember? These parties, these events. You wouldn’t have to do anything you didn’t want to. And you don’t.”

My heart squeezes in my chest and my eyes sting.

My whole body stings with so much love for him. So much need and longing and I whisper, “I was so afraid. When they took you. Poe told me a-and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t… I don’t…”

He steps closer and brings his hand up to my cheek, cradling it and I grab onto it like my life depends on it. “Hey, you don’t have to be afraid anymore. You never have to be afraid. Not from these people. Not from your father. It’s done. It’s over. Forever. I’ve taken care of it.”

I press his hand on my cheek. “I’m not afraid for myself. I’m afraid for you.”

His eyes go soft as he says, “Nothing is happening to me either.”

“Forever?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, his fingers digging into my cheek. “Forever.”

His voice, his tone, the utter belief on his face makes my body sag in relief. Finally.

It chases my fear away.

Or at least most of it.

I guess it won’t vanish totally until I’m away from this place. Away from the people who have tried to harm my Conrad.

So I whisper, “Take me.”

Like always, I don’t have to tell him what I mean.

Because I think we speak the same language, him and I. We speak how thorns does to roses. And how leaves speak to fall. How stars speak to the sky.

We speak with our hearts.

Our souls.

So he grabs my hand, his fingers threading with mine, and he does what I asked him.

He takes me.

Away.

I’m in his house.

In his living room.

Right in the middle of it and he’s by the door.

For some reason, tonight reminds me of the first time I came to his house. How nervous I was during the ride over and how all my nervousness vanished once I stepped into his space.

His life.

How safe I felt. How at home.

I still feel that way.

Safe and sound and at home.

In fact, I wasn’t even nervous during the ride over.

I’m not so sure about him though. Because he looks on edge.

He looks… uncertain as he stares at me.

Even though he’s standing in his usual way, leaned against the door, arms folded, there’s a tightness on his frame.

A dull thrum of something agitating.

I guess it’s all the things that are unsaid between us.

All the things that we didn’t get to resolve that night, the night Helen saw us kissing. The night I told him that I loved him, and he told me that he didn’t have anything to give me.

“How did you know I was home?” I ask.

“Leah,” he replies, watching me steadily. “She called. Told me your father was keeping you home. Wouldn’t let you come back to St. Mary’s.”