The events of the previous evening hadn’t left my mind, not even as I sat and talked with Martha over a plate of her deliciously made spaghetti. I smelt him before I saw him. Oliver. My eyes glided over to him as he descended the stairs, his feet dragging wearily. His eyes were red and somewhat swollen, a clear indicator that he hadn’t gotten any sleep, and his hair looked like a comb hadn’t been taken to it this morning. He grumbled a greeting as he sunk himself into a seat at the round dining table, right next to I and Martha.
“Good morning,” Martha greeted as she absently tried to smooth his errant curls down with her hand.
“Mornin’…” he grumpily replied.
“Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today,” I said jokingly and was rewarded only with a glance.
I felt a pang in my chest and my wolf howled in pain. We couldn’t continue like this. I ran my hand over my face, smoothing down my beard as my hand came down.
“Rough night?” I tried again.
“Yeah…” he replied, his eyes fixated on the table.
“Oh, you poor thing,” Martha said. “Let me get you a plate.”
Oliver opened his mouth to object but Martha had already stood from her seat and disappeared into the kitchen. That left just us…sitting in silence, with the fan whirling above us. I cleared my throat and shoved a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth. I wracked my brain for what to say.
“You should see the lighthouse,” I stated.
That seemed to get his attention.
“What?” He asked.
“The lighthouse. It’s an insanely beautiful view. From up there, you can see…”
Oliver cut me off. “I’m not interested.”
That chest pang again…
“Are you sure? Remember, your main goal here was to lift your creative block. The lighthouse is as good a place as any.”
Oliver’s eyes shifted from the table to me, in its depth I could see the wheels turning. In those depths were something else. Pain…suffering. He looked away abruptly and sighed.
“Fine.”
I smiled in triumph. “Great!”
Martha returned just in time with a steaming plate of spaghetti and meatballs and placed it carefully in front of Oliver. She sat on the edge of her chair and waited for him to take his first bite. Oliver dug into the meal like a ravenous demon, demolishing almost half the food on his plate before realizing that Martha was still staring at him. I hid my laughter as I watched his face contort in recognition of what it was she was waiting for.
“It’s delicious, Martha. I love it,” Oliver said, his tone carrying a genuineness that I hadn’t seen or heard since I met him.
Martha laughed and clapped her hands gleefully, and until he finished his meal, she went into details of how the meal was prepared and the ingredients used. Oh, how amazing it must feel to be rotten on by Martha…
Martha turned to me. “So, what are you guys doing today?” She asked.
“I’m taking Oliver to the lighthouse,” I answered.
She turned to Oliver, nodding her head approvingly. “That’s a beautiful place to start. I’m sure that you’ll find inspiration up there.”
I shrugged and looked at Oliver with an ‘I told you so’ expression on my face.
Soon enough, he finished his meal, and we began the short walk to the lighthouse. The journey was quiet. I, not knowing what to say, and Oliver…well…he was Oliver.
I led us up the winding stairs to the top of the lighthouse, and I stood back and watched as Oliver stared in admiration. I didn’t need to stand beside him, I knew what he was seeing. This same scene had given me hope so many times that I had lost count. I heard his sharp intake of breath, and I saw his hand wrap tightly around the banister. I leaned against the wall and admired him. He had opted for wearing just basketball shorts, leaving his upper body bare, a sight that has distracted me since he walked down the stairs. My eyes fell on his neck, on where my mark would be when I mark him and my hands balled into fists as I tried to stop myself from doing something stupid…like taking him here and now and marking him.
“It’s beautiful…” he whispered.
I nodded. “Yes…”
Oliver turned to look at me, his eyes shining with tears and vulnerability and did the one thing I would never have expected him to do. His hands went behind my head and his lips claimed mine. My eyes opened in surprise and shock but my hands went around his waist and pulled him closer, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. He leaned his head to the side and deepened the kiss, and I could feel the insane happiness of my wolf. He bit down on my lip until I caught the faint taste of blood and my trousers became tighter. And then just when things were getting interesting, Oliver pulled back. I made to move toward him, to bring him back to my embrace but he took several steps back, putting a lot of distance between us than I would have liked.
“Stay away from me…” he said, tears running down his cheeks.
My brows furrowed in confusion. “What’s wrong? We were…what happened?”
Oliver shook his head vehemently. “We can’t do this,” he stated firmly.
I stood in front of him, trapping him between my body and the banister.
“You cannot tell me you do not feel anything, Oliver.”
“Gabriel…” his voice broke and tears rolled down his cheeks. “I don’t want to drag you into my life. You…”
“I want to be dragged into your life…”
“My life is full of secrets, Gabriel. Secrets that hurt. Secrets that kill people.”
I shrugged. “Mine too. We’ll figure that out!!”
Oliver shook his head vehemently and headed for the stairs. I stood still, staring at the water, painfully aware of his feet running down the winding stairs…running away from me. I could feel the anger and frustration build up inside me. I took a deep breath and ran down the stairs, heading straight for the woods, I barely made it before I shifted into my wolf, my skin changing to fur and legs to limbs. I ran through the woods, letting my anger power each stride, my senses increasingly aware of my surroundings, and in the distance, clear as day, I could feel a pair of eyes on me…