Dirty Uncle

My boots scuff to a stop on the wooden, leaf-covered planks. There was no trust in how she looked at me when I left the truck, was there? No. No, because she handed me these desires and I embraced them with her. Then I made her feel…wrong. Jesus, did I actually use that word?

This relationship we started in the living room last night, then made solid on the lake’s shore this morning, is something Clara needs twenty-four seven. Knew it when she was practically skipping alongside me in the parking lot, looking up at me with hearts in her eyes. I’ve already limited her, though. Us. I’m not giving her what she needs. What we both need.

I hurt her, instead. I hurt her real bad.

“Clara!” I bellow, walking into the cabin. “Where you at, girl?”

Silence.

Wait. Not total silence. I hear some shuffling near the front entrance and I head in that direction. But when I open the door and expect to find Clara pouting, Hank and Rudy are there, returned from a trek in the woods.

“You seen Clara?”

“No, sir.”

Rudy shakes his head. “She’s not with you?”

She’s supposed to be. Hoping to find Clara in our room, I turn—but something is off about the front yard. Takes me a minute to realize what it is. The bike Clara has been using was leaned up against the tree when we left this morning, but it’s gone now. And there’s a skinny track in the dirt. Fresh. Heading toward the main road.

“She wouldn’t.”

Hank sniffs. “Wouldn’t what?”

Panic cuts into my chest like a buzz saw and I run for the passenger side, finding her bag of contact lenses still sitting on the seat. Bells peal in my head. “She…” I stagger away from the truck, hearing the optometrist’s words in my head. But you’ll need to wear glasses or lenses at all times. Surgery is the only way to repair your eyes for good. Without them, you’re still at risk for falls. “She’s on her bike and she can’t see right. Christ, she’s going to…”

Don’t think it. Don’t say it. Just move.

But as I run for the driver’s side, every worst-case scenario under the sun flashes in front of my eyes. And I never told her I love her.

Chapter Thirteen

Clara

In the blink of an eye.

It was always just a phrase to me before now.

I’m going faster than I should down the mountain. Only another few minutes and I’ll be at the rental hut. I think. Everything is blurrier than usual, thanks to the tears. This is how I’ve been living my life—a little blurry—only I didn’t realize it until the optometrist clicked those slides into place so I could see the letters on the wall.

There’s a minor scrape on my leg where I grazed a tree about a quarter mile back. But I’m not stopping to bandage it now. I just want to get away. Away from the possibilities that aren’t possibilities anymore. It hurts too much.

Everything hurts too much. My head aches, my chest burns.

The farther I get from Rex, the more I start to wonder if I’m doing the right thing, though. Rex is probably flipping tables, Real Housewives style. And while I enjoy him punishing me after a tantrum, this is nothing like those times. For one, I’m leaving him, not trying to get sex. Two, I’ve been built for our unique kind of relationship, but maybe Rex needs more time before he’s comfortable being unapologetically…us.

I…did blacken everything in their world.

Rex’s words drift back to me from this morning at the lake and my feet slow their peddling. It couldn’t have been easy for Rex to bring me into a room full of people and have them stare so rudely at me. Treat me like some kind of freak. No, he would have felt terrible. He would have taken all the blame, too, even though I’ve been pursuing him. Even though I came here with the intention of seducing him. Lied to him since the very beginning about who I am, just so he’d touch me.

He tried to stay away because he’s my step-uncle. He didn’t want to blacken me and my reputation. But we went there. Went there and took it a step further, becoming something even more controversial. Something we’ve barely begun to explore. And it all happened before Rex even got over my status as his step-niece. At the first sign of people disapproving, he saw me being ostracized right in front of his eyes. I shouldn’t have left. I should have assured him of one true fact—a fact that will always hold true. Being an outsider doesn’t bother me. It’s who I am.

All I’ve ever wanted was to feel safe. He gives me that in spades. He’s also helped me see the clear picture of where my fantasies have always been guiding me. But I expected too much too soon. I owe him time to get used to being on the fringe with me. It’s where I live. It’s where I’m comfortable.