“Allen. Allen Novice,” the man offers, stepping around his car and extending a hand to Pam. “Jacob and I went to Columbia together. It’s been a while.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m not familiar with Jacob Vincent the author, but if he is around here, I hope you find him.” Pam’s voice is sugar sweet while she lies, and I’m relieved she’s taken over the conversation. Personally, I feel twitchy.
“Oh. That’s too bad. I must be mistaken.” He pauses a second, shifting his eyes away and then returning his gaze to Pam. “I’d love to see his sister Isabella again.” The comment raises the hairs on the back of my neck, and I bristle. I don’t like this man or the moist, tight smile on his lips as he gazes at Pam. If he’s seeking a reaction, she doesn’t give him one. Me, on the other hand, I’m on the edge of giving him one—my fist.
“Enjoy your stay in Elk Lake City,” Pam states, sounding like a greeting card but clearly dismissing our curious visitor. Allen, if that’s even his name, thanks her and turns back for his car. We both stare after him as he drives away, discovering it’s a rental vehicle from the sticker in the back window.
“Do not mention him to Ella. Let me call Jacob,” Pam commands the second we see his car leave the lot.
“Do you know who he is?” I question, staring at the empty spot vacated by the nosy listener.
“No, and I don’t like the way he eavesdropped and then fished for answers.”
“You were quick on your feet.” I was ready to lose my shit and ask all kinds of questions that might have compromised Ella.
“Hanging out with Jacob makes me suspicious of everything sometimes.” She laughs, but it does nothing to settle my nerves.
When I return to the house, I don’t mention Allen Novice to Ella that night when we share dinner. I’d been unsettled the remainder of the day, and she senses my agitation.
“You’re off,” she says as we’re quiet through the meal.
“I have a lot on my mind.” Mum’s cancer. Pam’s caution. Ella’s protection.
“Want to share?” she teases.
“No.” It’s harsh and rushed, and I instantly feel bad. When I look up at her across the dining table, she’s already standing with her plate in hand.
“I think I’m going to work on my dress.”
“Ella,” I call out as she walks away, but I don’t chase. I’m too drained.
As the night grows later, and she doesn’t come to my room, I fight the urge to go to hers, but I also don’t want to force myself into her space. The only time I’ve been up there was with her invitation. The other time was the night of the nightmare. Instead, I spend most of the night tossing and turning, waiting for her haunting screams, which thankfully don’t come, but neither does she.
+ + +
The following night is the local high school homecoming football game, and my niece invited me to attend. She’s a senior for the old orange and black, and a cheerleader.
“Come with me,” I say to Ella after I tell her about Madison’s invitation.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
She looks up at me as though I’m dense, and I glare back at her. It’s been nearly three weeks of my being here. She can trust me, and I’m confident she does, so I don’t understand.
“Look at me,” she says.
“I am.” I still don’t get it. “You met my mum. Meet the rest of my family. They’ll love you.”
Ella’s head lowers as we stand on either side of the kitchen island, a barrier that feels as big as Hawaii between us.
“I’m…not comfortable.”
“Why not?” I snap, almost hurt at her rejection. She went with me to see my mother. How is this different? “You go out with Jacob. This won’t be any different.”
“I don’t go out with him unless he makes me, and then I wear a hood pulled over my face. We go someplace where there won’t be many people. A football stadium will have a crowd.”
“But I’ll be there with you,” I assure her, reaching across the island, but she retracts her hands, tucking them behind the counter. I return to my full height, irritation filling my tone when I next speak. “Remember how you asked if I was embarrassed to be seen with you? Maybe you’re embarrassed to be seen with me.”
Ella’s head shoots up, daggers in those green eyes. “I’m embarrassed to be seen.”
“Dammit, Ella. Stop it. You shouldn’t care. Let them look, and then they’ll look away. I won’t let anything hurt you.”
Liquid fills her eyes, and it breaks my heart to see she might cry. I’m not trying to be insensitive. I just want her to understand that her appearance doesn’t matter. She does.
I circle the island, but she circles to the other side. Sighing, I dig my fingers into my hair, holding it at the top of my head. “I can’t play these games with you tonight. I’m asking you to go with me because I want you there with me.”
“How will you even explain who I am?” she interjects. “You can’t tell them my name.”
“You’re Ella Vincentia. I’ll say you’re a friend. They won’t recognize you any more than I did.”
Ella huffs, and I hate the sound. I don’t want to call her a friend, but I don’t know how else to label us. Friends with benefits? No, I’m not going there with her. It’s more than that, at least for me, and it’s also not a term you announce to your family.
“Ella, please,” I groan, but she looks off toward the window and the dark lake.
“Fine,” I mutter, shaking my head before I turn for my room. I need to take a shower. I want to be understanding, but this is my family. While they might judge me, they’ll never judge her and especially not her face. Plus, Mum has already met Ella and told me repeatedly how beautiful she thinks Ella is.
“She’ll be good for you,” my mother hinted on my last visit with her. She has no idea how good I’m trying to be with this woman.
When I step back in the kitchen a half hour later, jacket on and keys in hand, I stop in my tracks.
“This is what I’d look like.” Ella stands before me with a dark gray, zipper sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over her head. She looks like a thug, and I chuckle. Closing the distance between us, I lower the hood but straighten her hair, which she has in a ponytail tucked at the side of her neck. Holding the ends of the tail, I tug and then lean forward to kiss her cheek.
“Beautiful. That’s what you look like.”
Her shoulders sag, and her peachy mouth twists in disagreement. I want to kiss the hell out of her, set her on the countertop, and have my way with her until she believes me, but I need to get to the game. I’m already late.
“I don’t know if I should do this,” she mutters, avoiding my eyes.
“You should do this,” I say, reaching for her hand and kissing her knuckles. “But maybe lose the I’m-a-mass-murderer sweatshirt?”
“Fine.” She sighs and heads to her room, returning with a cream-colored hat on her head and a matching long wool jacket. She’s gone from dark knight thief to snow bunny royalty in a matter of minutes.