“We agree to disagree.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It will if you let me explain.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Explain.”
“I would if you stopped galloping across this paddock.”
“I’m walking.” I chuckled. “I’m doing what you asked. You said you wanted to walk. So walk.”
She halted, her chest rising and falling, out of breath. “I see there are no grey areas with you. It’s all black and white.”
I turned to face her; the moon was no longer behind her, but shone directly on her, casting her face in liquid silver, making her look like a perfect statue. A forest goddess that pagans would’ve prayed to for good crops and bountiful seasons. With her hair wild and free, her breath fast, and eyes bigger than I’d ever seen, she truly was the prettiest thing.
And I despised her for it because pretty was an illusion just like love. An illusion that could cause pain the moment you coveted it.
Jamming hands into linen pockets, I rocked on my heels. “What are you getting at?”
Coming closer, she looked me up and down from feet to nose.
I shivered under her inspection as she lingered on my lower belly, my mouth, my eyes.
“What are you doing?” I backed up a step, prickling with awareness, on guard for an attack just from a single stare.
“I’m doing you a favour.”
“I don’t want any favours.”
“I see that, but you’re getting this one, and you’re going to accept it because I’m sick of fighting with you.”
“If you’re so sick of fighting, you know where the exit is.”
“Yes, and you know how to be nice even when you’re being mean.”
I opened my mouth to retaliate.
I had nothing.
Stalemate.
She crossed her arms. “Why does everything have to be an argument with you?”
“Not everything.” I did my best to follow this new thread of conversation. “Just this thing that happens when you talk to me.”
“I annoy you?”
“It’s that obvious?”
That awkward silence again. Only this time, I didn’t feel guilty. I hadn’t delivered it in my usual scathing way. Humour had laced the question even though truth rang too.
Hope believed she’d had a breakthrough in understanding me.
I would gladly teach her about disappointment.
She hadn’t figured me out; I’d just remembered my oath to my father about protecting those who needed protecting. It didn’t matter if I liked her or not. She was our guest, and I would behave from here on out.
“You annoy me too.” Her whisper caught me off guard. “Just saying.”
I chuckled under my breath. “I already figured that.”
“Good.”
“Fine.” I froze.
Shit.
What the hell?
I’d been raised hearing that flippant saying. Mom and Dad had trademarked it for saying ‘I love you.’
It was a phrase that meant a lot to me.
And I definitely didn’t just say ‘I love you’ to Hope.
“This walk is over.” My voice turned cold and detached. “Go to bed, Hope.” Turning my back on her, I traversed the meadow in the opposite direction.
Get it together, Wild.
There had to be a simple explanation for the moods Hope brought out in me. I was overtired, overworked, overstressed. She just played on those issues. That was all.
Hope appeared at my side, skipping and jumping over tussocks of thick, ready-to-cut grass. “What just happened?”
I didn’t look at her, just kept walking.
When I didn’t answer, she said, “You were thawing toward me. Then, all of a sudden, you iced me out again.”
“I’m not a season. I don’t thaw or ice.”
She laughed cynically—far too old and jaded to come from such a young girl. “You’re worse than a season. At least you know what you’re gonna get with winter or summer.”
“No, you don’t.” I rolled my eyes at her city stupidity. “The weather is the most temperamental thing on the planet.”
“Wrong. You are.” She ran ahead of me, planting herself in my path. Holding up her hand, she bumped my chest with her palm, forcing me to stop.
“Don’t touch me.” I growled.
She dropped her hand, leaving behind charcoal and ash from her unwelcome heat.
“The deal. You didn’t let me tell you about our deal.”
“There is no deal.”
“There could be if you let me finish.”
Inhaling hard, I crossed my arms and put a step between us. “Fine, if it will make you leave, tell me. Fast.”
“Okay.” She nodded, brushing back hair and standing as tall as she could with importance. “You don’t like people getting too close. You don’t like being touched, and you don’t like losing those you love.”
My eyes hooded in warning. “Where are you going with this, Hope?”
She held up her hand, begging for patience. “I don’t have any people to get close to. I don’t mind being touched, and I’m afraid of losing those I love but can handle it if it happens.”
“What do you want? An award?”
“No, I want you to understand. We’re opposites in that respect. We’ve both lost a parent, and it’s changed us in different ways, but it doesn’t have to be an issue between us.”