Keeping (21 page)
“That’s right,” he says, reaching out to trail a fingertip down my temple and along my jaw. “I’ve been sent to find you. Help you.” He rests his hand in his lap again and stares at the cottages opposite. “I live over there.” He nods.
I look across the lake.
“I’ve seen you here every day since the summer,” he said. “Knew you had some things you needed to work through. Knew today I could come and sit beside you. Talk.”
Should I feel queasy that this man has been watching me all this time? Or flattered? Did he watch out for me daily, so used to seeing me that if I didn’t show, he’d be disappointed? Like me with the heron?
“Yes,” he says. “If you were late, it saddened me, and I’d stare out of the window, hands resting on the sill, watching, waiting. And when you came, everything was right again.”
What is he trying to tell me? And did he just answer my damn thoughts?
“I did.”
I whip my head around to glare at him.
He still eyes the cottages, a small, secret smile on his lips. “I’ve waited a long time, you know. For you.”
This time I let the frown remain. “Look, like you said earlier, I should be thinking you’re weird. And, don’t get me wrong here or take offense, I
do
think you’re weird, but…it’s like it doesn’t matter. It’s like…shit, this is going to sound stupid. I don’t know you, I’ve never seen you before today, yet it’s as though—”
“You know me inside out and have been waiting for me too.”
I rest the top of my arm along the back of the bench and prop my head in my hand. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s right.” I sigh, then, “And even
that’s
weird.
This
is weird, talking to you like—”
“You’ve known me forever.”
“Well, yeah! That’s what—”
“D’you like coffee?”
“What?”
“Because I’d like to make you one.”
In his cottage? Should I go? Is it safe?
“Oh, yeah. It’s safe. Come on.” He rises, stuffs his hands in his pockets and walks up the bank to the path.
I follow, my rational side screaming I shouldn’t but my soul telling me I should. “I just want you to know I have a phone in my pocket and—”
“Ah, and there was me thinking you were just pleased to see me.” He smiles, nodding at the bulge in my pants.
I look down and blush, the burn of old humiliations searing.
“And for the record,” he says, stepping toward me, finger beneath my chin, “it looks like a perfect fit to me.” He drops his hand. “Oh, and Matt? You might want to stop thinking of me as ‘he’. Like I’ve said, the name’s Thomas.”
About the Author
Sarah Masters is a multi-published author in three pen names writing several genres. She lives with her husband, children, and three cats in an English village. She writes full time and is also a cover artist and blog designer. In another life she was an editor. Her other pen names are Natalie Dae and Charley Oweson.
Sarah is busy co-authoring with Jaime Samms. They have several books in mind so will be writing for a couple of years to come! She also needs to finish her M/M novel, the tale she’s dubbed The Book That Doesn’t Want To End. She’s at the last chapter but is afraid to open it in case that last chapter isn’t really the last chapter…
Email:
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Sarah loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at
http://www.totallybound.com
Also by Sarah Masters
With Jaime Samms
The Dreaming: Tools of Justice
With Jaime Samms
The Dreaming: Tools of Justice
Totally Bound Publishing
