EIGHT
“You’re laughing at me now? Seriously? You’re seriously laughing at me?”
My words had come out with a funny sort of tremor present, one that usually didn’t show up in my voice unless I was fighting mad, which I definitely was. I just couldn’t believe that the idea of me battling the Bloodborn with knives was so outright laughable to Reed.
The moment I’d begun speaking, though, he’d immediately stopped laughing. He now tried to say something, but I cut him off.
“No. Don’t you dare even try to tell me how stupid my idea is. I refuse to hear it.”
Before I knew it, I was throwing my napkin on the table, then running from the room. However, in my anger, my brain had become so jumbled that I’d started running out to the kitchen, instead of up the stairs to my bedroom, where I really wanted to go. It was only halfway down the corridor that led to the kitchen that I realized my mistake and slowed my steps to turn around. I wasn’t heading up to my bedroom, though; I was going to race back to the dining room, because I knew I had to defend myself.
I’d nearly made it to the entrance of the dining room when I crashed into a hard, muscular wall of chest for the second time that day. Apparently, Reed had been striding out of the dining room while I'd been striding in.
With my anger rising higher still, I all but shoved him out of the way and continued into the dining room. “I want you to listen to me say something. Please sit down.”
Somewhat to my surprise, just because he was chief of Somerset, and I was sure he wasn’t used to being told to sit down, even with a please, he did sit down. Un-balling my fists, which I hadn't even been aware of balling in the first place, I took a seat as well, noticing a few drops of hot melted wax dripping from one of the burgundy candles down to its brushed brass holder.
Before speaking, I took a deep breath in an attempt to calm myself, although this hardly worked, because my words came out with the same angry tremor that they had before. “You may think that my knife-throwing skills are a complete joke, Reed, but I can assure you they’re not. In fact, if I had a chance to test them out, like if I could just come face-to-face with a Bloodborn bear while armed with a bagful of very sharp knives-”
“I wasn’t laughing at you, Samantha. Please believe me. I wasn’t.”
Incredulous, I snorted. “Well, you could have fooled me. Because I don’t think I imagined-”
“No, you didn’t imagine me laughing. But I wasn’t laughing at you, or at the idea of you taking out a Bloodborn with a knife. I swear I wasn’t.”
“Well, then, what-”
“It was maybe helpless laughter, or laughter of complete disbelief because that’s how I felt when you offered to help with the Bloodborn. See, we Somerset shifters are used to being quite powerful. For several years, we’ve been able to keeping the Bloodborn off our lands with very minimal effort. We’re not used to being in the weakened state that we’ve existed in ever since the Bloodborn unleashed their biological weapon on us. You see? When you offered to help deal with them, I just felt an almost comical level of disbelief…it fully hit me that I and my men have become so weakened that a non-shifter, fully-human woman feels the need to offer help. Maybe I was laughing with embarrassment more than anything, Samantha. But for whatever reason I was laughing, I wasn’t laughing at you, or your offer of help. In fact, I find it very unfunny. I find it very selfless and admirable.”
If Reed was doing a bit of acting in order to cover what he’d done, he was doing a damned good job of it. Because looking into his eyes, I couldn’t deny that his expression was one of complete sincerity. His expression seemed to hold deep regret and apology, even.
It was all too much for me to make comment on right away, so I didn’t, and Reed continued.
“I hope you can believe me when I say that I’m telling you the truth. But at any rate, as much as I appreciate your offer, there’s no way I can let you use your knife skills against the Bloodborn. It’s far too dangerous.”
“Oh, don’t even pretend like you care what happens to me. We just have a ‘business’ relationship, even after last night, right?”
For some reason, the mere mention of “last night” caused an immediate ache in my chest, and when I next spoke, my words once again held a tremor, although not one of anger.
“You’re just a ‘businessman,’ right, Reed? So, beyond me providing a baby to strengthen you and your shifters, why do you care if I live or die?”
With that, I bolted out of my seat and all but flew out of the dining room toward the stairs, having to force myself not to break into a full-tilt sprint. To my genuine relief, Reed didn't follow me.
I made it to my room and my bed before beginning to cry, burying my face in my pillow. I wasn’t even quite sure exactly why I was crying. So far, things in Somerset had went how I’d hoped they would go. Reed and I had a business relationship, and we were working on making something happen that we both wanted to happen for our respective reasons. I supposed I was just crying because my good faith offer to help him with the Bloodborn had been rejected. However, upon further reflection, I realized that maybe I was crying because I had been rejected. And this, when I’d been telling myself that I didn’t want any kind of a real relationship with Reed. Or, at least that’s what I’d told myself before meeting him.
He didn’t come to visit me in the guest room that night, which was fine with me. I didn’t particularly feel like looking at him again yet, let alone sleeping with him.
The next day, it rained buckets. I stayed in bed for most of the morning, only getting out when Marie came to check on me, empty my bedroom trash, and bring me an early lunch around eleven. She asked if I was feeling under the weather, but I said I was just a little sleepy, not really wanting to go into my drama with Reed. Marie seemed to not quite believe me, but once I’d assured her that I really was fine, just a little sleepy because of the rain, which was true, she left, and I ate lunch at a little writing desk in my room, watching the silvery downpour beyond the windows.
That afternoon, I braved the rain to hop in my car and go visit Polly at the coffee shop again. The rain had let up a bit, though, and while I dashed into the shop, an umbrella helped shield me from what was still coming down.
In seeming defiance of the rain, a large sign on the door of the coffee shop, proclaimed Happy Spring! in bright yellow lettering across the top, and Have a Sunny Day! across the bottom in bright green. In the middle, a large daffodil had been painted with a grin, and a few tiny tulips peeked out from behind it.
When I entered the coffee shop, I was greeted by the sight of four small children literally running circles around Polly, each of them waving yellow, green, and pink streamers, shrieking.
Polly looked up at me and grinned, then said she was glad to see me. “You’re just in time for the annual spring decorating of the shop, which will be followed by the first spring Sunday story hour of the season. See, we’re not just a coffee shop, here, but a story time destination as well, since the library is closed on Sundays, and there’s not much else in town for kids to do. And, no pressure if you’re in a rush, but I may need an extra set of hands on deck to help. I sometimes think kids here in Somerset get more excited about the arrival of spring than Christmas.”
I said I’d love to help, and soon Polly and I had the four kids actually hanging streamers various places around the shop instead of just wildly waving them.
Before long, several more kids showed up, and an energetic redhead named Lucy was among them. She seemed to be good friends with Polly, who greeted her with a hug, exclaiming that her double French braids were so cute.
However, after Lucy had bounded away to grab some streamers, Polly spoke to me in a low voice with tears unexpectedly glinting in her eyes. “I always wish that Sean and I had had kids before he died… and I always think that they might have looked like Lucy. See, Sean had red hair almost as bright as hers. Hazel eyes, too.” Before I could respond, Polly suddenly wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and offered me a little smile. “Sorry. Just creeps up on me sometimes… especially when the kids come to visit the shop.”
I said that I understood, and Polly once again wiped her eyes again before speaking.
“Reed’s wrong, you know.”
Confused, I asked her what Reed was wrong about, and she shrugged.
“Just… everything he thinks about Sean’s death.”
I asked her what she meant, and she shrugged again, right before telling me just about everything I needed to understand why Reed was so insistent on being “all business” when it came to our relationship.