But I Need You (This Love Hurts 2)

Sucking in a breath, I turn to stare at the barn, pretending I didn’t just see his features plain as day.

“Don’t tell anyone you saw me,” he commands although it sounds like a question. His charming smirk looks far too boyish on him. Maybe it’s the pale blue eyes and faint wrinkles around them that give him his boy-next-door appeal. His dirty blond hair tousled by the wind makes him appear all soft, but his jaw is hard and his features severe the moment he tilts his head. “You understand that, don’t you?”

More than anything, he looks just like Cody.

“You’re his brother … you’re Chris—”

“Don’t,” he says, cutting me off and I silence myself, chewing on the inside of my cheek. My pulse races and my heart hammers. They found dental records. The world thought him dead. My mind filters through the tragic tale. If he’s Christopher, Cody’s brother …

“I can see the wheels turning,” Marcus says, coming up beside me. I stay facing the barn, wrapping my arms around myself as the wind blows.

“Is that right?” I ask him, peeking up but quickly looking away. He’s leaner than Cody; I can’t help but to compare every bit of him to his brother.

“Don’t think about it.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Everything eludes you today …” Marcus says and disappointment is evident in his tone.

“What did you mean by your question?” I ask him. He stands beside me, his arm almost touching mine. He’s taller than me but on the hill like we are, he’s even taller and he practically towers over me.

Power radiates from him. Even the air seems to bend around him.

“This barn. What does it mean to you?” he asks and I shrug.

“It’s an old place and … I used to come out here sometimes, but not a lot.” I almost bring up my father, but I choke on his name.

“If they knocked it down, tore it to pieces?”

“It wouldn’t matter to me,” I tell him, and peek up questioningly. “Why would you think it would?”

“What about your family home? If they took it apart brick by brick?”

“You could take it … I’d still be okay.” My mind spins with questions, wondering why he thought this barn would mean anything at all compared to my family house. Is it because of my father?

“Is there no place you thought of as home?” he asks me genuinely and when he does, his arm brushes against mine, offering the barest of warmth.

“That tree over there,” I say, motioning toward an old oak tree near the center of the field. “That’s the wishing tree.”

“It grants wishes?” His smirk is heard just as it is easily seen. It warms me, though, something deep down I can’t explain.

“When we were kids, some boy on the bus said you had to run through the field late at night and climb it to wish on the stars or else your wishes wouldn’t come true.”

“I never heard that one,” Marcus says and my heart flickers.

“I think in most towns it’s wishing on shooting stars.” I turn away from him and stare at the auburn leaves, mixed with hues of gold as I add, “But here we had that tree.”

“So if it were to be chopped down?” Marcus asks.

“I’d be all right. None of this …” I almost tell him it’s not the place, it’s the people. But I bite my tongue at the thought that he’d threaten to take them away.

“You’d break. At some point, we all break.”

“I feel like I already have and it has nothing to do with where I grew up.” I don’t hide my vulnerability.

“It has everything to do with that, and trust me Delilah, you are far from broken yet.”

There’s an eerie air that surrounds us, almost feeling like a push and a pull at the same time. A warning and a promise.

“Is that why you wanted to meet?” I ask him. After last night, I don’t know what to think.

“To ask you what a barn means to you?” he says and huffs a humorless laugh. “No, that’s not why.”

He doesn’t offer any explanation and the wind blows gently between us. Moving the hair out of my face, I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you for the note.” Marcus is silent, staring off at the old tree. A crease is in the center of his forehead.

“It’s your handwriting,” I say, prompting him to say more.

“I’m aware.”

“Well … how?” I can’t get the question out; it feels very much like I’m stepping over his boundaries.

“That’s not something for you to worry your pretty little head about.” The mannerism in which he speaks sounds so much like Cody too. I haven’t noticed it until now, maybe because he’s never been this casual before. Or maybe it’s because I can see his lips now. The same lips I’ve kissed.