Page 47 of Heir to a Curse
He was young, yes, and adorable. Friendly and sweet.
Though when he arrived with a basket full of food and two bottles of wine looking like he wasn’t old enough to drink, but offering to share a meal with me, I knew there was no way I’d ever touch that boy. The age gap was too much. It made me wonder about Xiang. Technically, my past self had been only a few years older. What did that mean for the now? And was it crazy to be thinking in those terms about some man I wasn’t sure was still living?
I waved at the little patio table. “If you don’t mind sitting outside, sure,” I allowed. Company soothed a bit of the sadness, even if I knew it was only temporary.
Dinner was antipasto, an amazing salad with fresh grilled chicken, and the wine was tart. Montana did not drink, despite assuring me he was old enough to indulge. “There’s more at the house, but I have to be up early,” he said.
“Seems odd to make meals for the staff.”
“No one else to cook for right now,” He pointed out. “What is the point of me being here if I’m not cooking?”
I nodded, though my gut churned with anxiety of how I was failing him too. “Makes sense. We’ll have to see if we can get that fixed.” I sighed. “Once this pandemic is over.”
“If it’s ever over,” Montana grumbled. “I have always been a bit of an introvert, but only seeing people online is really hard.”
That I could understand. “Well you have a small gathering to plan for at the end of the week. Maybe we can start small like this. Try to keep people safe and still show them a bit of life, yeah?”
He nodded. “I hope so.” His gaze roved over the area I’d put aside for the wildflowers. “There’s a rabbit,” he motioned.
I glanced over to find the white rabbit back. A flare of hope rose in my gut. “Makes me want to follow him into Wonderland,” I said, downing my third glass of wine.
Montana smiled. “We are all a little mad here.” He glanced at his phone. “I should get back. I know you’re supposed to be resting, your friend asked us to give you some space, but don’t be a stranger. Come up to the house for food sometimes. Okay?”
“Sure,” I agreed without really promising anything. “Do you want me to walk you back?” The sky was beginning to grow dark though the sunset blazed beautifully on the horizon.
“No. I’m fine. Thank you.” He got up and gathered up empty dishes, leaving me leftovers and the wine. Montana gave me another smile before he donned his mask and made his way back to the now well-maintained trail. I watched him disappear past the maze and felt the weight of depression wallop me again.
“Fuck,” I muttered. The rabbit sat near the patio, so I threw it a few pieces of lettuce, then gathered myself up to go inside. Instead of refilling my glass, I drank from the bottle.
Grieve, Addy had said. I wasn’t sure how. Never in my recent memory could I recall what it felt like to actually lose someone. Pain. That was clear. The ache of them being absent stung like a fresh cut, sharp and precise. Sofia would have wanted me to move on with my life, but I hadn’t wanted to watch her fade away beneath the onslaught of cancer. How was any of it fair?
I finished the first bottle and opened the second, only feeling the slightest of buzzes. For a little while, as I slugged down the bitter red wine, I thought it was helping. But it didn’t ease the sadness, only clarified it and made me angry with my helplessness.
“Fuck you,” I told the empty room. “Fuck everything in this piece of shit world,” I muttered, stumbling halfway across the room to the chaise. “Everyone abandons me sooner or later. It’s stupid to get attached.” I’d learned that from the handful of intimate relationships I’d had in my life, and that of many foster parents. Yet I still had the guys, and Addy. I wondered what they would do when I was gone? I’d spent years building the business so it could run without needing me present for everything. Part of that was the fact that I would rather be working on actual projects than running the operation side. Part of that was to create stability for my people. But that meant I could vanish and it would be fine, right?
I growled at the idea. Stupid brain, so lost and angry. Wasn’t that part of grieving too? I sighed and sat back, chugging down the rest of the bottle and setting it on the floor. I closed my eyes and laid back, praying for the feeling of defeat to ease even a little.
A small change to the room made me open my eyes, almost a breeze without wind, and he was there. Hair white as snow cascading down his back, free of any ties. Dark eyes, huge and luminescent, glistening in the pale light of the room, and so breathtaking I nearly choked.
I sucked in a hard breath, reaching for him, pulling him close and crushing my lips to his. His gasp caught me by surprise, though he let me in. I wanted to taste him, roll the memory of him around my tongue, though all I tasted was the alcohol.
“Dammit,” I said. “Stupid wine.” I held his face in my hands, illuminated by the single light I’d left on. “You are so beautiful.”
He rewarded me with a tiny smile.
“You’ve been gone,” I whispered, letting my thumbs trace the delicate stretch of his cheekbones.
“You asked me not to break your stuff,” he said.
I blinked at him, realizing I’d said something similar. “Did you cause the house fire?”
He flushed, the pink rush of color to his cheeks making me want to roll him over on the bed and kiss him breathless. “Not exactly.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Explain?”
“Things follow me here. The longer I stay, the worse they get.”
His words made no sense, but I was drunk. “So you can’t stay?”