To StayNot to Stay

She was being ridiculous. Claire’s feet followed a figure-eight trail from kitchen to living room, back to kitchen as she argued with herself.

Of course she should stay home. Stick to her plans of avoiding crowds and establishing her independence.

But wouldn’t it be rude of her to turn down a personal invitation from Ian?

Back in the living room, she sighed. She knew full well that her hesitancy had little to do with whether or not it was proper or improper to answer the invite, and everything to do with a certain bearded, tattooed man.

She rubbed above one manicured brow, remembering how distracted she’d gotten by the taut cords of muscle along Danny’s forearms while he’d gripped the edge of the table.

It’d been so long since she felt that tight coiling in her belly, that bloom of warmth. For years, she thought that part of her had died with her relationship with Brandon. But when her eyes had tracked the curve and cut of Danny’s bicep beneath the curling tail of a dragon, a thick band of desire snapped so fast and tight, she’d been immobilized.

Then he’d noticed her gawking.

Heat sprang to her cheeks, and she picked up a paper, fanning her face. Moving to a different part of the cottage, she grabbed her journal. She should definitely stay home and work on writing or drawing Maddy.

Definitely.

She looked down at what she’d doodled. It wasn’t a little girl staring at her, but a bearded man’s face—smiling.

“That’s not helping.” She sighed but then laughed. Tilting her head, she thought over the quandary of Danny’s features.

The hard jawline and all the black ink over a powerful broad frame didn’t match the gentleness in his deep voice. And when he smiled? Two deep creases on either side of his mouth erased his hard edge. Like turning on the sun on a cloudy day.

His eyes puzzled her the most. So bright and clear and open. When they locked on to her, everything dormant inside of her burst to life.

Kind of like it was doing now. She gripped her fluttering stomach and fanned herself again. “Maybe I should go just for a little while,” she said out loud. “But all those people.” Her entire life, her family’s name put her unwillingly in the public’s eye. She hadn’t lied when she told Ian she enjoyed not being known this week.

The only way she’d kept some mystery around her through the years was the reader fan club she started that vowed not to dig into her true identity.

Smiling to herself, she remembered the last QA she’d had with them. One eager fan delved so deep into her novel, he’d discovered all the details she’d hidden in it. She loved giving her fans small pieces of the real her. Even if it was in secret, it was a truer connection to people than she had in real life.

She sighed again. Maybe it was finally time to connect with people in person.

Her phone buzzed with a text from Greyson. WHEN ARE YOU LEAVING THAT ISLAND?

It wasn’t the question that bothered her, it was the fact that he asked. Like she hadn’t told him how long she’d be here.

She should’ve expected it. It’d been a year of him barely responding to texts, making her fear that he deleted the messages without reading. All because of him—the man she thought she was done being afraid of, but who had somehow started haunting her dreams again.

Saliva grew thick on her tongue and her fingers massaged the cold wrapping itself around the scar on her wrist.

“He’s not here.” She closed her eyes. “Breathe.” With a hard swallow, she forced the emotions back down.

Picking up her phone, she typed, I’M HERE FOR A FEW MONTHS, BUT I MIGHT STAY LONGER. IT REALLY IS BEAUTIFUL HERE, AND THE PEOPLE ARE SO NICE. I’M ACTUALLY ABOUT TO MEET UP WITH SOME OF THEM. She took a deep breath before adding, I WISH YOU WERE HERE WITH ME.

He didn’t answer, and the small hope she’d told herself not to have popped like the delicate bubble it was. She brushed a shaking finger over his name. It was nobody’s fault but her own, though.

A gust of wind shuddered against the front door, interrupting her thoughts. It quieted as quickly as it came, and she shook herself from the unsettled feelings. She didn’t know if she’d ever get used to the strange wind here.

Heading into her bedroom, she scanned through her closet of tailor-made clothing. She hummed as she laid out several outfits across the bed, each one a different style from a different decade. Her love of vintage clothing had started with reading classic literature, wanting to have a piece of those stories to live inside of.

A rumble came from outside, and she turned toward her window when it started to rattle. It stopped. With a roll of her eyes, she turned away. Taking the monumental step to go out tonight called for her favorite dress.

“Ma-adelynn ... ”

She gasped and held the dress against her half-naked body. “Who’s there?” She darted her gaze around, looking over the empty space of her room. The wind vibrated her window again, but nothing more.

“Calm yourself.” She rubbed her temples, taking a deep breath. “You just need protein. You haven’t had any this week and you’re hearing things.”

Still, she hurried to pull on her dress. The wind blasted against her window again, and she squeaked, rushing into another room, closing and locking the door behind her.

The wind quieted, but her thudding heart didn’t. She hadn’t meant to come in here.

She hated bathrooms. At least bathrooms with bathtubs in them. And this one had a long cast-iron tub inside. It didn’t matter that she froze every morning when she showered in it. She refused to close the shower curtain.

Forcing herself not to look at the tub, she finished getting dressed. She curled and pinned her hair into vintage waves, keeping her makeup simple as she normally would—light blush along her cheekbones, eyeliner, and mascara. But tonight, she decided to break out her favorite crimson lipstick.

She smacked her lips and stared at her reflection. It’d been a long time since she’d worn this color. A year, to be exact. A year of wearing black and no lipstick. Because lipstick meant fun—meant she didn’t care and was moving on.

“What am I doing?” She tore off a tissue and froze with it hovering over her mouth. Was it wrong for her to want to move on? To enjoy a night of being around someone who made her skin heat and her mind go quiet?

She closed her eyes. That’s really what it was. Whenever Daniel was around her, the inner critical voice stopped speaking. She forgot all about the social rules she’d been forced to memorize as a child, and that one shouldn’t make bubbles in their tea when laughing. Most importantly, she forgot about being Madelynn.

One more look at her red lips and she tossed the tissue. This night would be nothing more than meeting some nice people, and the lipstick meant nothing. She pinned on her hat and glanced down at the large diamond ring attached to her diamond-studded wedding band.

She toyed with them for a few moments before twisting them off. Holding them firmly in her palm, she entered the bedroom again and gently placed the rings in her nightstand drawer.

“I know what I promised,” she whispered, running her fingers over them. “But I hope you understand.”

A cold wind burst into her room and swept up her hair. She gasped and clenched her eyes closed as a rattling noise came from her window again.

Whispers crept up behind her and she yelled out, whipping around.

Her window was halfway open.

She screamed and ran to it, slamming it shut. Her fingers scraped and pried as she cried out, trying to force the lock in its place. It jammed a quarter of the way in.

“Protein,” she said, backing away until she reached her doorway. She spun on her heel, forgetting her cloak, and ran for the foyer.

At the door, she stopped and laid her ear against the pink monstrosity. Everything quieted outside. She eased out a breath and flipped a switch to ignite a warm glow over her head. Such a childish thing, she knew that, but it worked. As long as there was light, the monsters of her imagination stayed away.

The angry wind didn’t return, and when she cracked opened the door, only the comforting sound of waves crashing a hundred feet below greeted her.

Slowly, she inched along the rotting front porch to the edge of the house and peeked around the side where her window was. Nothing but an empty landscape of grass-covered rocks and swaying branches. She exhaled, rubbing her arms.

Silly, foolish Claire. She was even more certain that whatever happened a minute ago was perfectly explainable. It had to be. The implication of it not being so was more than she could bear. That perhaps all she’d been through this past year had done more damage to her mind than she realized.

Her eyes closed on an exhale. She wouldn’t dwell on that.

She didn’t take her time leaving. Rushing on the balls of her feet so her heels wouldn’t slow her down, she hurried until she set eyes on Flygande.

While she steadied herself, brushing off any signs of her rushed trek, the din of voices floated out to meet her on the path.

Heavy footsteps came from outside the wall and Claire went still. It was the way the feet hit the gravel road, forceful, steady ... motivated. She held her breath as the large form of a man stopped in the shadows outside the gate.

A flat cap covered his head, and his silhouette hid behind an upturned collar. Slowly, his head turned. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was staring directly at her.

For an endless moment, neither moved. Breathed.

He reached up and tipped his hat to her.

Her breath released, and she internally rolled her eyes at her paranoia. Just an islander out for a walk, who now probably thinks she’s weird for staring. She attempted to recover her poise, and with a nod, she returned his greeting before pushing her way inside Flygande.