would be a thrilling ride getting to know him; the twists and turns that was his life excited me.
“I’m sorry.” His words seemed more like an evasion than an apology. “We should get you home. Don’t you think?” He stood and walked to the door.
I stayed seated. Just because he wasn’t being rude anymore didn’t mean that I had stopped answers. It seemed the roller coaster ride was down for maintenance. I was no maintenance man, but I would get the ride functional and answering questions.
He sighed. His look said, “ Don’t do this, not now. ” “What now?” he asked, not unkindly.
“I still have questions. I know we had an agreement, but you know a lot about me, and I know nothing about you. Will you answer some of my questions?”
His face was unreadable. His posture was stiff and anxious, and I could tell he wanted to have been anywhere but there. If anyone else had treated me the way he had, I wouldn’t have cared anything about them at all, but the raven-haired mystery guy was different. The urge in my gut begged me to know him, and as long as I followed through, the ache inside me wasn’t too hard to bear.
“I will answer what I can, but you have to understand, just because you were so forthcoming with your past doesn’t mean that I will be. There are things that you won’t understand and things that I can’t tell you.” He sat down at the other end of the room—as far away from me as possible. “Your face is wind burned, and your lips are chapped. I know you’re not comfortable here.”
I blushed when he mentioned my lips. I hoped he didn’t notice. “That’s fine. Just a few questions.” I wrapped the quilt around me. I would have to be sneaky in order to get my answers.
Chapter 7
----
Through average means, one will find peace in death.
----
“What’s your name?” I wanted to ask more intense questions, but I thought it was better to take it slow. I wanted to start with questions I knew he’d answer truthfully.
“Kale.”
It was an odd name, but so was mine. My mother had named me after my father’s mother, who passed away shortly before I was born. My parents said that they liked the vintage feel of the name Eloise, but I’d always hated it, so I’d shortened it to Ella. After their accident, I understood my parents' choice. If I had a daughter, I would name her Layne, after my mother.
I thought Kale might lie, so I watched his breathing and body language, but he was still as a statue and maintained constant eye contact.
“Nice name. How old are you?”
He had to think about his answer, and I knew that instant that he would to lie. I pointed my finger at him and shook it. “Tell the truth!” I sat back and looked at him disapprovingly. Why would he lie about his age? He couldn't be that old.
“Twenty-one.”
I studied his face and waited to see if he would break and tell the truth, but he just stared at me. I had to think carefully. Maybe if I asked him simple questions, it would help me lead up to the bigger ones, and he wouldn’t get annoyed and clam up.
“Where are you from?”
He crossed his legs and rested his head back against the wall as if he had already gotten tired of my questions. “I was born in London. Now will you stop with the mundane questions and ask the ones you really want to know?”
“Fine. Why were you fighting with that guy in my front yard last night?”
He kept his face blank, and his eyes told me nothing. He was silent for a moment, and I worried that he wouldn’t answer. It seemed as if he was searching for a lie or an easy way to explain the situation. “He was trying to break into your home.”
“What!? Why didn’t you tell me so I could call the police?” I was appalled at his nonchalant attitude. Someone had tried to break into my house while everyone was asleep. That warranted more of an explanation.
“Why would you call the police? I stopped him from breaking in, and I will handle him if he comes
“I’m sorry.” His words seemed more like an evasion than an apology. “We should get you home. Don’t you think?” He stood and walked to the door.
I stayed seated. Just because he wasn’t being rude anymore didn’t mean that I had stopped answers. It seemed the roller coaster ride was down for maintenance. I was no maintenance man, but I would get the ride functional and answering questions.
He sighed. His look said, “ Don’t do this, not now. ” “What now?” he asked, not unkindly.
“I still have questions. I know we had an agreement, but you know a lot about me, and I know nothing about you. Will you answer some of my questions?”
His face was unreadable. His posture was stiff and anxious, and I could tell he wanted to have been anywhere but there. If anyone else had treated me the way he had, I wouldn’t have cared anything about them at all, but the raven-haired mystery guy was different. The urge in my gut begged me to know him, and as long as I followed through, the ache inside me wasn’t too hard to bear.
“I will answer what I can, but you have to understand, just because you were so forthcoming with your past doesn’t mean that I will be. There are things that you won’t understand and things that I can’t tell you.” He sat down at the other end of the room—as far away from me as possible. “Your face is wind burned, and your lips are chapped. I know you’re not comfortable here.”
I blushed when he mentioned my lips. I hoped he didn’t notice. “That’s fine. Just a few questions.” I wrapped the quilt around me. I would have to be sneaky in order to get my answers.
Chapter 7
----
Through average means, one will find peace in death.
----
“What’s your name?” I wanted to ask more intense questions, but I thought it was better to take it slow. I wanted to start with questions I knew he’d answer truthfully.
“Kale.”
It was an odd name, but so was mine. My mother had named me after my father’s mother, who passed away shortly before I was born. My parents said that they liked the vintage feel of the name Eloise, but I’d always hated it, so I’d shortened it to Ella. After their accident, I understood my parents' choice. If I had a daughter, I would name her Layne, after my mother.
I thought Kale might lie, so I watched his breathing and body language, but he was still as a statue and maintained constant eye contact.
“Nice name. How old are you?”
He had to think about his answer, and I knew that instant that he would to lie. I pointed my finger at him and shook it. “Tell the truth!” I sat back and looked at him disapprovingly. Why would he lie about his age? He couldn't be that old.
“Twenty-one.”
I studied his face and waited to see if he would break and tell the truth, but he just stared at me. I had to think carefully. Maybe if I asked him simple questions, it would help me lead up to the bigger ones, and he wouldn’t get annoyed and clam up.
“Where are you from?”
He crossed his legs and rested his head back against the wall as if he had already gotten tired of my questions. “I was born in London. Now will you stop with the mundane questions and ask the ones you really want to know?”
“Fine. Why were you fighting with that guy in my front yard last night?”
He kept his face blank, and his eyes told me nothing. He was silent for a moment, and I worried that he wouldn’t answer. It seemed as if he was searching for a lie or an easy way to explain the situation. “He was trying to break into your home.”
“What!? Why didn’t you tell me so I could call the police?” I was appalled at his nonchalant attitude. Someone had tried to break into my house while everyone was asleep. That warranted more of an explanation.
“Why would you call the police? I stopped him from breaking in, and I will handle him if he comes
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