Chapter 3 - Lena

"At least if you're going to have a stalker, you have a really attractive one," Sarah offers with a shrug as we both stare across the street at the now all-too-familiar view of Cyrus leaning against the brick wall.

"You'd think he'd assigned himself the job of holding up that wall the way he sticks to that same spot. I still don't know what he's doing here."

Cyrus is true to his word. He is back and in the same spot across the street as yesterday. Sarah is still all too eager to hear the play-by-play of our awkward reunion, even after I had told her on the phone last night.

We turn away from the street and walk toward the counter where bagels are waiting with our coffee. I force myself to resist looking back as I shove carbs in my face. I'm going to eat my feelings. That's the only way to deal with this. That or drink them, but I don't really do that often anymore other than girls' night, so carbs it is.

Sarah is far too deep on Team Cyrus. She seems convinced that, if nothing else, I should, at a minimum, get him out of my system. I'm choosing to ignore any sense and logic she's bringing to the argument in his favor.

All I have is questions. I still don't know what to think of all this nonsense about me being in danger. The only thing I'm sure of with absolute, soul-crushing certainty is that I want him as desperately as ever. I can't afford to cave into that part of myself.

"You could take him some coffee," Sarah offers with a shrug, "He looks cold in the rain. Just saying, maybe you just need to hear him out. Break the ice a little."

"I think I said everything I needed to when I poured a pitcher of ice-cold water on him. I don't want to break the ice, remember? I want a wall of ice. The Great Wall of China of ice."

"Okay, but honestly, I bet he looked amazing all wet."

My mind and vagina do a little flip at the thought. It was never a problem of him looking good. He's always been like a walking fantasy come to life. It's his actions that are forcing me to keep him firmly in the box within my mind that I tried to keep him buried in. I can feel the heat rising as I blush hard at the memory.

Damn it.

"He's always looked good. That will never be the issue."

"How long are you going to keep him in time out?"

"Forever. He gets no more chances, Sarah. You know exactly why. Aren't you supposed to be on my side here?"

Sarah sighs wistfully, sipping her coffee while looking at me with all-too-knowing green eyes. She leans casually against a case of copper nuggets.

Sarah is such a romantic at heart. She is full of ideas of this being some sweeping love story where he's back to whisk me off my feet and save me from my pathetic, single-mom existence.

The problem with her fantasy is that it isn"t mine. I don't want to be saved. I don't want to be rescued. I love my single-mom life. I have a good thing going here with Rosie. She's a few years from graduating, and she's my whole focus. She has to be.

I don't have room for any man. Especially one who gets me so sucked in I can't see straight and has the power to absolutely crush me if he decides to disappear… again.

My eyes drift to his body across the street while he converses with someone blocked by an umbrella. I pause on the sunglasses covering his face. It shouldn't be legal to look that good just leaning against a wall. Who wears sunglasses when it's rainy?

Tool.

"Well, it's his story to keep. I'm not interested. Besides, as my friend and the sheriff, shouldn't you be more suspicious about the man who disappeared and now reappears out of thin air? Also, what kind of scientist really looks like that? I'm not buying it."

My eyes widen as I realize who is behind the umbrella talking to Cyrus.

"Damn it, Rosie. I hadn't told her. I should have last night, but I just couldn't find the words."

"Shit, Lena. What's she doing here anyway? Shouldn"t she be in school already?"

We both brave the light rain and jog across the street to the overhang of the bar that shelters Cyrus's new favorite spot. I can hear their animated chatter as we draw near. Cyrus has a genuine smile and Rosie is laughing.

"Remember how bad it was? Oh man, she should never cook fish. Ever."

"Rosalind Marie, you are supposed to be in class right now, not talking to assholes about my cooking failures."

"Mom! Why didn't you tell me you saw Cyrus yesterday? He was just telling me that he came by yesterday."

"Nice try. You're not changing the subject. School? You should be in first period."

"Ugh, Mr. Long is so boring. His voice will put me to sleep with all this rain."

"I can take her," Sarah offers, the look on her face clearly showing how pleased she is with her ability to leave me stuck alone with Cyrus.

"No, please, Auntie Sarah. Don't make me go. Can I just ride along with you today?"

"Kid, you know I'd take you any other time. But technically, you're truant, so nope. You're going."

Cyrus is watching the exchange behind the heavily mirrored glasses, which just riles my anger up more.

"You don't need sunglasses in the rain," I snap at him as I round on my daughter, "School. Now. So grounded. So very grounded."

Rosie rolls her eyes and shrugs at Cyrus.

"Promise we can catch up? I've missed you! It's been forever. I want to hear all about Africa."

"You've got it, Rose. I'll be around."

Her face lights up, and I feel like a knife has hit my heart. I can't let her get close to him again. There's no way I will put her through that a second time. Sarah wrangles Rosie into getting in the cruiser, and they peel off with lights on, Rosie laughing in the backseat as they pull away.

She will be the death of me, I know it.

I'm left alone with my new shadow. Why can't he just leave me alone? Now he's dragging Rosie in. Hearing him call her Rose just drags up all the memories. He is the only one who ever calls her that.

"I don't like you here. I really don't like you talking to her."

"I told you. I'm not going anywhere, and we do need to talk. I need you to hear me out."

A sigh escapes, and I look up in exhaustion, shaking my head. A stray drop of water falls from the awning onto my forehead. Why couldn't this be easier?

"I have to go make candles. I don't have time to hear you out." Without another word, I pull my head back down and duck out into the rain that's starting to pour down harder, and make a quick dash for the shop door. I slow to a stop a few steps into the store and am disappointed to feel him step in behind me. He's inches away.

I resist the urge to lean back into him and haul myself further into the shop.

"Let me help. Then it'll go faster."

"No."

"Let me keep you company. I can talk while you work. You just have to listen."

"No. Go away."

His hand wraps gently around my wrist, pulling me toward him before I can reach the back room.

Damn him and his long legs. Makes it really hard to make a faster exit.

"Lena, please."

His breath whispers against my neck, causing chills to run through me. I try to convince myself that the chills are only because of the wet clothes and cold morning air. Nothing to do with the clench I feel in my body in response to him. Traitor.

"You don't play fair."

His fingers let go and run gently up to my shoulder, making the shiver intensify so that my whole body is lit up and just aching for him.

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it! NO.

I release the breath I don't even realize I'm holding and pull my arm away from his hand.

"No"

I'll just ignore him. That will surely be the best way to show him that he doesn't get to me. Right? Ignore him, and he'll go away. Suppress the raging hormones and your traitorous vagina. That's a great plan; at least, that's what I'm going to keep telling myself.

I start pulling out the returned empty jars stashed under the counter, trying desperately to keep my eyes off him. I just need to focus on the task in front of me. That's it.

People in town bring me their empty jars to remake their candles—our town's own little way of recycling. It also helps me keep my costs low for our locals. I smack the list of orders on the counter a little more aggressively than I intend.

Nice way to show him he's not getting to you. This is going so well.

With a groan of annoyance, I gather up the soy wax I like to use and start pulling some of the herbs and oils I plan to use from the nearby shelf. I walk around with an arm full of things before stacking it all on my worktable. It's taking every ounce of my willpower to resist staring at him. I deposit all of it, turning and reaching up to a supply shelf.

Cyrus moves behind me, reaching over my head to hand me a box of wicks I was up on my toes reaching for.

"I don't need your help."

"Clearly." His voice is flat, and as I turn, I see his face wearing a deadpan expression as he also pulls down the pitcher and stirring sticks that were next to it. My eyes reluctantly take in the wet shirt clinging to his skin. I want to run my hands under it. No. No groping.

"I mean it. Go away. Stop it."

"I can't even offer help?"

"No."

I turn and step out of his space, striding for the backroom to get a case of fresh jars for the new batch I need to have ready for the usual tourist sales. He's behind me again, following too close. Close enough that I feel that magnetism kicking in again. It's like my body keeps trying to lean into him.

I lift the case of jars with a bit more effort than I'd care to show. I turn, and he quickly lifts it out of my hands. His large hands brush mine as he slides them under the sides. The contact makes my breath catch again, and I'm startled enough to let him take the case.

His eyes lock on mine, and I swear I'm feeling it all again like the first time. That rush. The draw he has that pulls me in.

Cyrus shifts the jars to a single arm in a show of far more strength than I have, then uses his other to reach up and move a stray frizzy curl from in front of my face to behind my ear. My face leans into his hand before I can stop myself.

Damn it. No!

I step around him in an attempt to break the trance I feel stuck in while staring at him and try to go back to ignoring him.

He slides the case down on the worktable next to me and turns to lean a hip against the table. I can feel his eyes on me as I'm sifting the herbs for the recipe together.

"What?" I snap without raising my eyes to meet him. Maybe that's the key. Just don't look at his eyes. I get far too lost in them.

"I know you still want me, and I am sure you could use some help around here. Why not let me stay and talk as long as I'm helping?"

I am positive I didn't hear him right. The words echo in my brain, heavy and tempting but riling up the fierce independent streak within me.

I throw the bundle of lavender in my hand at him hard, and he gawks at me in surprise. That's not nearly enough. I start grabbing everything in reach other than glass and chucking it at him with as much force as I can manage. He's dodging vanilla pods, dried berries, stirring sticks, and lids as I punctuate my words with each item I throw.

"I. Don't. Want. Your. Help. You. Fucking. Arrogant. Asshole. Go away!"

"Hey! Stop, that was my eye."

Anger flares in me as my hand reaches for one of the glass jars.

"Get out, Cyrus."

"Lena…don't."

I pull my hand back, and he quickly registers that there is no arguing with the crazy woman in front of him. I am fully prepared to start chucking glass jars full force at his dense, thick head until he gets it through there that I don't want his help or his explanations.

"Damn it, woman. Fine. I'll try again tomorrow."

He stalks out of the shop.

"I'll make sure to stock rocks tomorrow," I call as he reaches the door.

Finally, I win. I think? Why do I feel instantly sad that he's gone?