He smiled. “I could track you if you were within a hundred mile radius. It’s as if everything within me is always looking for you, even when I know where you’re at now.” He pushed off the doorframe and came towards me. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”
“A hundred miles, huh?” I said, trying to sound unimpressed. I took a step back, as he continued to advance. I needed every last precious second to let my resolve take root and grow before he would begin his mission of crushing it. “Let’s put it to the test . . . what do you say to that?” I took another step back, but my back came in contact with the fireplace. There was no more time or room—I closed my eyes and willed a shot of miracle grow on my blooming resolve.
“Now why would I ever want to do that?” he whispered, taking the last step that positioned his body within inches of mine, but I’d done it in the time I’d stalled—I felt my strength originating from within as if my body had been this quality’s source.
He inched forward, pushing his body into mine until my back was pressed solidly against the fireplace. He pressed his hands into the fireplace on either side of my head, and lowered his mouth to my ear. “Why would I want you to leave when I’ve got you right here in front of me?”
My eyes opened into the special forces of his offensive. Those eyes would have crippled my resolve in a single blink two hours ago. Their beauty thrilled me with no lesser degree than they had the first time I’d looked into them and found my purpose.
“Good point,” I admitted, strategically ducking beneath one of his arms. “I’m not going anywhere.” I made sure I was half-way across the room before I turned back to him. He’d turned around as well, and had his back against the fireplace. He had an amused look of confusion on his face, due to my out-of-character jailbreak from his arms most likely.
“You never answered my first question,” he reminded.
My eyes narrowed with confusion.
“What do you think?” he repeated, opening his folded arms to the house—the pride in his voice indicative of a creator.
“Another Hayward home?” I asked with awe, thinking of the endless acres I’d crossed to get here.
He nodded his head, and commenced his advance towards me again. “You never know when another will be needed,” he said lightly. “This one will be nice and central—Joseph and Cora’s place is a couple miles to the east and Nathanial and Abigail’s is about a mile north.” He stopped a couple paces in front of me, letting me have the space I’d demonstrated to him I wanted.
I viewed the house with new eyes now that I knew what family would inhabit it, and my former admiration of it turned into adoration. “I can already see it,” I said, picturing the home in its completed form.
“What can you see?” he asked with obvious interest, circling around me.
I put to words what my eyes were imagining around me. “I see the walls plastered in pictures, bookshelf inserts lining the entire east wall,” I directed, pointing at the living room wall I had in mind. I couldn’t help but notice his eyes glimmer and his brow set in concentration, as if he were making a mental list. “I see four-paned windows, blue shutters, rocking chairs on the west side of the porch, and a window seat for reading right over there.” I pointed at the bay window I had in mind. I could have gone on for hours, but my suggestions were sounding more like bossy demands, so I shut up.
“Anything else?” he questioned, circling tighter and closing the final space between us with two steps. Innocently enough, he wrapped his arms loosely around me and let his fingers interlace over my back.
I relented and pressed into him, wrapping my own arms around him tightly. Everything was right again . . . but still somehow wrong. The reminder of the evil I held within stabbed me, reminding me of what was wrong. It terrified me. I didn’t have a clue how I’d manifested whatever life taking qualities flowed from within—so how could I expect to control it? I couldn’t.
My arms instinctively loosened around him. Never, in all my worst fears these past weeks had I imagined I could harm the man I’d do anything to keep safe.
“Do you think I’ll be spending anytime here?”
“I certainly hope so,” he answered matter-of-factly, tucking his chin over my head.
I smiled from the blatancy in his voice. “In that case . . . I suppose I can see a state-of-the-art espresso machine on the kitchen counter, a huge garage where I can tinker with my car for hours, and a thousand pictures of you covering my bedroom walls.” I leaned my head back from his chest to look at his thoughtful face. “Or at least that’s what I’d like to imagine.”
“If you’re imagining . . . can I imagine I’ll be sharing your bedroom with you?” he whispered in a tone that was too dreamy for my heartbeat’s good. It chugged like an out-of-control locomotive.
I gulped before answering. “Sure.” The word broke, sounding like I was an adolescent boy going through puberty.
His smile was instant and breath-catching. “Do you want to see what room you should pick for us?”
Before I had a chance to bob my head once, he tossed me into his arms and was sprinting through the room and up the staircase.
“In a hurry?” I asked, keeping my eyes closed from the wind cutting across my face from his jet-like speed.
“It’s never too early to stake one’s claim on their bedroom.” He said with mock solemnity, slowing once we were in the hall on the second floor. He went to the east end of the hallway and entered the room the hall ran into. He turned sideways to carry me in, and set me down once we were inside. “This is the one you should select for us.”
He didn’t need to explain why, because despite it being nothing but two-by fours and particle board, the room was ours. The air that flowed freely from the open walls and roof changed when it entered this space, making it special and identifying this place being where we should be together. It was gripping, and I got chills from the aura heavy in the room.
“I’ll take it,” I whispered.
“I knew you would,” he said, sounding proud of himself. “Now that we’ve identified our room, where shall we put the bed?”
My stomach dropped a few floors, but liking this game of make-believe, I surveyed the room with appraising eyes. I surveyed the north wall where a large portion was cut out for where I could see a couple of doors resting that would open to a private balcony. I strolled to the back wall, and turned a couple circles, looking up, down and side to side, before I plopped down on the floor and laid my body out flat.
I heard him walk towards me. “Right here,” I said with an air of finality, looking up at the night sky through the roof trusses. “There’s a nice view.” He came to a stop beside me, his face blotting out the substandard night sky. “An amazing view,” I edited, admiring the new one.
He rolled his eyes like I did when he said something I thought was crazy, before his expression became playful. “I think you need a pillow.” He kneeled down at my head, and lifted it gently as he slid his body into position beneath it. He let it come to rest over his stomach.
“This is both the hardest”—I gently punched against his stomach—“and the nicest pillow I’ve ever had.” I twisted my head to look over at him, and let one of my hands mold against his cheek.
“It is a great view,” he said, his eyes roaming over the stars above. He was pensive for awhile, looking deep in thought. I left my hand against his face and marveled in its workmanship again. “Would you like to see your star?” he asked, breaking the intimate silence. His eyes grabbed mine.
“My star?”
“Yes, the star that was yours before I even knew your name,” he began, looking back to the sky and focusing on one spot above. “Immediately following the first dream I had of you all those years ago, I went outside and laid under a clear night sky like tonight’s, and found the one that shone the brightest to me—the one that screamed its brightness in the surrounding black—the way you had for me.” My eyes stayed fixed on his face, not able to admire anything else. “It’s been a constant companion and reminder to me. Whenever I’d catch myself doubting when and if I’d ever find you, I’d look up and find your star and it would remind me you were out there . . . somewhere, and that I would one day find you,” he finished, smiling at whatever his eyes were positioned on.
“Come here,” he instructed. “I want to show you.” His hands encouraged my head and upper half up. He lifted his back off the floor and scooted forward until his chest was pressed against my back. Tucking my legs up to my chest, he wrapped his arms around my compacted body before tossing me onto his lap.
“Lay back on me,” he whispered, unwrapping his arms from me and pulling mine with him as he lay down. He pulled me down on him so I was viewing the sky above from the same position he was, although what lay below me was a million times better than the wood flooring beneath him.
I straightened out my legs over his, and let my head rest just to the side of his. My body rose and fell in unison with his, and his heart burst against my back with such force it shook my body. Every breath I pulled in was hitching in my lungs, so I stopped breathing all together, choosing to eliminate one unneeded overreaction.
His left arm wound over my waist, and with his right, he grabbed my hand and lifted it to the sky above. His arm straightened over mine and he pointed my index finger and glided it across the night sky, until he brought it to a stop. “There it is,” he whispered.
He released my waist and lifted his hand to my head to tilt it closer to his—aligning it with his line of sight. “Do you see it?”
At the tip of my fingernail, a star sparkled its brilliance without apology. “I see it,” I whispered back, sending my endless thanks to the star that encouraged him through the generations. It was dazzling, and with your attention on it, nothing else screamed its light or dark around it . . . there was only that one spot of brightness in the black universe.
“Can I pick one out for you?” I asked, already having one in mind.
“Please do,” he whispered below me, kissing the hairline just behind my ear.
I repositioned our extended arms so mine was over his, and pointed his index finger above. I penned his finger across the sky, playing connect the dots, until I rested it over the star. “That one,” I whispered.
He was silent for a few seconds. “But that’s yours,” he stated, sounding confused.
“I don’t want to be anywhere you’re not,” I whispered. “If that’s my star . . . that’s your star.”
Before I could revel in the new speed his heart thrust with, he had me on my back and was leaning over me, holding his weight not as carefully as he normally did. His offensive was coming. The look in his eyes numbed my senses and dizziness swirled in my head.
“Leave with me tonight, Bryn,” he murmured, tilting my chin back and kissing the indentation at the base of my neck. “I’ve got a couple of bags packed and two airline tickets.” His words were muffled from the continued journey his lips made over my collar bone.