Blood Moon Page 4

Willa wanted to believe Solace, she wanted to jump right in and not worry about what came next. But the fear of rejection and of her secret being known pressed against her desire for happiness, pushing it aside. And there was her dream to consider—the one of her and Simon and the black cloud. All her dreams meant something—the hard part was figuring out what. So, was the dream a good sign or bad? Was it a prompt to be with Simon or to run the other way? Her instincts told her it was a good sign, but could she trust that?

  She looked down at the table, following the curves of wood grain with her fingertip. The memory of Simon filled up all the empty space inside her, flooding her mind.

  Solace dipped her head to try and find Willa’s eyes. “Come on. You know I’m right. Don’t you?”

  Willa nodded, “Who am I to argue with a ghost?” She grinned, but it was fleeting. “I want to believe, but it scares me. A lot.”

  “Of course, it does! That’s all right. A woman never hands over her heart without a bit of fear. Or a lot. That much I’ve learned from all these books.” She smiled and waved a hand at a bookshelf behind them. “It’s perfectly normal.” Solace sat back and gazed blissfully out at the room. “Now, you must promise to come visit me more often and tell me all about it. I have to live vicariously through you. You can tell me all about being in love—and I mean details—and I can dream it’s me.”

  Willa laughed weakly. “I promise, Solace.” While Solace closed her eyes and daydreamed, Willa fought her fear. The night with Simon had been so blissful, felt so right. But now in the daylight, reality took over, doubt corrupted. Soul mates? Was it really possible to meet a stranger and fall in love in an instant? Was it truly possible to know someone before you met them? Was the fiery, electric connection between them more than a fierce attraction? Is it fate? Does fate exist?

  Her phone in the pocket of her white shorts suddenly felt as heavy as a rock. I should call and cancel our date tonight. I don’t know this guy! I can’t trust this weird attraction. I can’t!

  Solace started humming an old song, her voice drifting on the air around them.

  Willa slipped her hand into her pocket, gripped the phone. Her stomach flopped, her face tingled where Simon had first touched it. Longing pulsed inside her. To be loved, to be known . . .

  I can’t.

  With a sigh, she stood and resumed her dusting.

  Chapter 4

  Waning Gibbous

  Present Day, June

  After his early breakfast shift at the diner, Simon threw his hiking pack in the back of his black Jeep Wrangler and drove out of town. The mountains were the only place he could think clearly. A good long hike was just what he needed to logic out what had happened with Willa last night.

  No amount of reason could push away the strong emotions he’d felt—and still felt—for her. From the moment he walked into the diner and the heat had boiled inside him, there’d been no way to deny it. The term soul mates wandered through his mind, tempting him to believe it, but could he?

  Perhaps she was the reason he was drawn to this place. Perhaps the need to leave his old apartment and rent one here in Twelve Acres was not the convenience to the University or the easy access to the canyons. Maybe, all along, he’d been pulled to her. It wasn’t the kind of thing he normally believed in, but there were other elements of his life that had no rational explanation, so it wasn’t impossible for him to stretch to unreasonable conclusions. It just didn’t make him comfortable.

  What do I do next? What do I think about this?

  Simon parked the Jeep on the side of the canyon road, grabbed his pack and slung it onto his shoulders. He turned down the first trailhead he came to, only caring that it took him higher into the mountains.

  He inhaled deeply, drinking in the pine-scented air and feeling of a clear mind. Here, there were fewer people, which meant fewer minds pushing in on his, fewer emotions to fend off. It was because of his ability to sense other people’s emotions and intentions that he’d been so solitary all his life. His craving for human companionship was trumped by the need to keep out the noise that others put in his head.

  Willa was different; all he wanted was to be near her again. They’d talked in her front yard until after midnight and still it’d taken all his self-control not to call her first thing in the morning. He’d held off until about ten o’clock. Just the sound of her voice on the other end of the phone had been enough to stir up that strange heat again. The thought of seeing her later tonight put a huge smile on his face. When he realized he was grinning from ear to ear, hiking alone, he laughed out loud, the sound bouncing off the trees around him.

  What is happening? I’ve never felt this way.

  Simon turned up the first switchback. He couldn’t wait to see her, but he didn’t have a clue as to what to do when they were together. Did he tell her about what he could do? It wasn’t just the sensing of others’ emotions. There was also his ability to heal, more strange and complex than the first.

  The question of whether to tell her or not itched under his skin. He’d never told anyone—ever. The only reason his parents knew was because they had lived with him for seventeen years. And if they’d had their way, they would have him give up his awful abilities.

  He wanted to be close to Willa, to tuck her into his life and never let go; he wanted that like the day wanted the sun. But his logical side, the part of him that demanded a reason for his actions, couldn’t get past the part where he tried to hide his abilities. Because it was either hide them or tell her. And neither one sounded like a good way to start or keep a relationship.

  For a moment, Simon listened to the sound of his breath and watched his boots kick up dirt. He waited for a clear answer to come to him, but the only thing that came was the image of Willa’s face and the memory of her sweet, cool lips.

  He pushed harder, quickened his pace, and soon he found himself at the summit, looking down on Twelve Acres, with its square city blocks and straight streets dotted with big trees. His heart pumped steadily and a few trickles of sweat moved down his neck. With a sigh, he sat on the nearest boulder and pulled out his water, taking several long pulls.

  Willa.

  There was only one thing he knew for sure: he wanted her, needed her. In his nineteen years, he’d never felt as at ease or as accepted as he did in those few short moments with Willa. His parents hated him and he returned the unpleasant sentiment. There was no love there, never had been. They didn’t understand or accept his strangeness, and he refused to give it up. Friends were hard to come by—also because of his abilities—and he’d lived alone since he was seventeen. Long ago, he’d resigned himself to a solitary life. But Willa had awakened a desire in him he’d smothered in his childhood. The intensity of that desire rocked him, took his breath away. The thought of having someone, of not being alone, was a sweet, powerful temptation.

  But his mind screamed caution. In his experience, getting close, opening his life to others, only ended in pain and rejection. Simon instantly thought of Stan, his best friend from kindergarten. Images of afternoons playing super heroes and sitting outside eating Cheetos until their hands were stained orange raced through his mind. Simon had never really had a friend before—his parents weren’t ones to arrange play dates, and he hadn’t gone to preschool, so the new thrill of a playmate had been intoxicating to his five-year-old self.

  One afternoon, just as the weather was starting to turn cold, he and Stan played on Stan’s backyard swing set, Stan as Batman and Simon as Captain America. Bad guys had no chance. With his homemade cape flapping behind him, Stan pumped his swing higher and higher, while Simon sat at the top of the slide. He’d watched Stan’s cape flutter and flap, sharp pangs of jealousy moving through his gut. He wondered what would it be like to have a mother who made things for him. Then all of a sudden, Stan had dared to jump from his swing at its highest point, sailing through the air, flying for just a moment . . . before landing awkwardly on his right arm. At his first scream of pain, Simon ran to his
friend’s aid.

  Stan rolled onto his back cradling his oddly bent, broken arm. Simon immediately reached out and put his hand on his friend’s injured limb. At the same moment Stan’s mother came running out of the house. She watched as Simon’s touch moved the bones back into a straight line and pulled away the pain.

  Simon had smiled at Stan’s tear-wet face and then smiled up at his horrified mother.

  That night Simon’s parents locked him in his room without dinner. He’d never played with Stan again; Stan’s mother transferred her son to another kindergarten class the next day. His young mind and heart knew exactly why: he was different, and different was bad. And that is when he knew his life would be lonely. He always saw himself separate from everyone else.

  The hot sun poured down into the small valley and Simon brushed away the painful, sour memory. Now, as an adult, he still felt that sentiment; the basic principle the same, only now complicated by his more in-depth knowledge of life. Different was bad, and despite all his best efforts to explain his differences or ration them into normalcy, he remained exactly the same—a freak. He didn’t want to change, desperately wanting to understand, although he was certain he never would. No one could explain to him why he was this way.

  A rustle in the trees announced the arrival of a small rabbit, dragging a bloodied and injured foot behind, eyes watery with pain. Simon, out of habit and instinct, slid off the rock and bent down to the suffering creature. He placed his hand on the silky brown fur and a burst of hot energy moved from his palm into the rabbit. A few seconds later the creature bounced away, healed.

  Simon stood, brushed off his hand and narrowed his eyes at the spot in the bush where the animal had disappeared.

  Perhaps it was time for him to take a risk, to open his heart and his life. It may end in pain, but it may not. It may not . . .

  Willa’s face filled his mind again, her subtle lavender scent permeated his nose. For once, Simon would throw logic out the window and go with his heart. Consequences could be dealt with later. He snatched his pack and started off at a run down the trail. He’d call her on the drive home and see if he could pick her up earlier than they’d planned.

  Willa fussed in front of the mirror in her room. On the bed behind her was a pile of discarded clothing. What did one wear on a date with the guy met in a swirl of electric heat the night before?

  Frowning, she surveyed her latest outfit: a scoop neck, off-one-shoulder white top with short jean shorts, and her silver Toms. Her hair was down and she’d kept her make-up light and natural. She sighed. This had to be the outfit; Simon was probably on his way.

  She hurried over to her dresser and quickly slid on a sheen of lip-gloss and then threw the tube in her small purse. Turning back to the mirror, she took one last look and found herself smiling, her stomach dancing with excitement.

  “So, who’s the guy?” her mom asked from the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, smiling at Willa with a knowing glint in her eye.

  Willa tried not to let her smile grow. “Just a guy I met at the diner. He works there now. Goes to the University. Pre-med.” Willa knew her mom would eat up that last detail.

  “Really? Very nice.” She took a step in the room. “Was this the same guy you were outside with last night, in your pajamas?”

  Willa flinched and met her mom’s knowing smile. “Yes,” she admitted.

  “Thought so. Don’t worry, Dad was asleep.” She stepped into the room. “Don’t you want some earrings? Maybe those pretty, dangly silver ones?”

  Willa nodded, crossed back to her dresser and dug through her small wooden jewelry box. She slid in the earrings and turned. “Approved?”

  Her mom nodded. “Very nice.” She stepped closer, looking as if she wanted to say something. “Sooo . . .”

  “Yes, Mom?” Willa hooked her purse onto her shoulder.

  “Well, it’s just that I haven’t ever seen you this excited about a guy. Come to think of it, there’s never been a guy before.”

  Willa scoffed. “I went to most of the school dances and stuff.”

  Her mom sat on her bed, picked up a red scarf and ran it through her hands. “Oh, I know. But there’s never been a guy before, just friends hanging out. But I can tell this one is different, and now that you’re out of high school, about to start college . . . it just feels big. You know?”

  Willa sat next to her, her stomach now tight, her hands clammy. “Yeah.” They sat in silence for a moment and Willa let her nerves eat away at her previous excitement. “Mom?”

  “Yeah, honey?” Sarah turned her compassionate eyes on her daughter and Willa wished she felt as confident as her mother always seemed. Even in her dad’s old flannel shirt and paint spotted jeans, her mom looked so together and in control.

  “Do you think it’s . . . okay that I date?” Willa asked quietly, looking at her hands.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, with . . . you know . . . the things I can do?” Willa looked up to see the reaction on her mom’s face. Her ghosts and dreams were something they rarely, if ever, spoke of out loud. Sarah’s eyes widened and then narrowed with concern. She reached out and took Willa’s hand.

  “Of course. There’s no reason those things would keep you from anything you want. Okay?”

  Willa nodded, absorbed the words. “Yeah, okay.”

  Sarah looked like she wanted to say something more, but all she asked was, “Are you going to tell him?”

  “I have no idea.”

  Sarah pressed her lips together, nodded. “Well, it’s only your first date. Just have fun. I’m sure stuff like that will work itself out.” Willa nodded, and then Sarah said, “So, what’s his name?”

  “Simon.” She couldn’t help the smile that followed.

  “Simon. I like it.” Sarah leaned over and kissed Willa’s forehead. “Do you have time for me to paint your nails?”

  Fifteen minutes later, with shiny black nails, Willa stood at the window in her living room. Heavy footsteps sounded behind her and she braced slightly, knowing who it was and what he was about to say.

  “So, who is this guy?” her dad asked.

  Willa turned to face him. Ethan Fairfield was tall, at least six-foot-five, and built like a sapling tree—thin, wiry, tough. His salt-and-pepper hair was always slightly mussed and his authoritative hazel eyes could intimidate the most arrogant of onlookers. He folded his arms.

  Willa sighed inwardly. All her life she’d battled his over-protectiveness. “He works at the diner, Dad. His name is Simon Howard and he’s a pre-med student at the University.”

  Ethan frowned. “And you met him last night?”

  Willa folded her own arms, suddenly feeling a hot rush of defensiveness. “Yes.”

  Ethan stepped closer. “Willa, it’s not safe to go out on a one-on-one date with a stranger.”

  “Dad, come on. Everyone is a stranger until you get to know them. But Simon is different. He’s a good guy.”

  “How do you know that? He may seem like a good guy, but you don’t know anything about him. I know he’s not from Twelve Acres. So, where did he grow up? Who are his parents? Is he a good worker? Is he kind? Does he have a criminal record?”

  “Good grief, Dad. You’re way overreacting.” Willa rubbed at her forehead. “You always overreact! And I don’t want to do this. Simon will be here any second.” She turned away and went back to the window.

  For a moment, her dad was quiet. Then in his deep voice, he said, “I don’t approve,” then stalked out of the room.

  Willa exhaled, closed her eyes and shook her head. Was he ever going to treat her like an adult and not like some stupid, naïve child? A pulse of anger rose in her throat, but she pushed it down. She didn’t want to be angry; she wanted to be excited, giddy like other girls on a first date with a cute boy.

  An electric hum started under her skin and, within seconds, Simon’s Jeep pulled up in the driveway. Willa’s stomach flipped and twisted as a tremor of energy moved th
rough her.

  Thankfully, her parents were nowhere to be seen—she could thank her mom for that.

  The doorbell.

  Willa took a deep breath and pulled open the door. At the first sight of his tall and broad stature nearly filling the doorframe, towering over her five-foot-six frame by nearly a foot, her heart squeezed shut and then leaped off at a pounding run.

  He smiled and said, “Hi—again.”

  Willa smiled and laughed, suddenly at ease. “Hi.” Tonight he wore a black button down shirt and tan-colored shorts. His curly hair was still damp from a shower and he smelled fresh, clean, and slightly like pine trees with a hint of peppermint . His eyes met hers and Willa felt her knees weaken. She had to resist the urge to throw her arms around his neck.

  “You look gorgeous,” he said quietly.

  “Thanks,” she said shyly.

  “Ready to go?” he asked

  “Yep.” She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her. To her surprise and delight, Simon immediately reached out and took her hand, his skin warm and dry. They walked in comfortable silence, exchanging smiles. Willa felt all the tension and worry leak out of her. There was something about being around Simon that felt natural, like home.

  He opened the passenger door for her and she climbed into the Jeep. As Simon moved around to his side, she glanced up to her parents’ bedroom window and found her mom waving enthusiastically at her. After a burst of embarrassed laughter, she offered a quick wave back.

  Simon got in and started the engine. Then he turned to her. “So, since I’m the new kid in town, I was thinking that you could give me a bit of a tour. What’s your favorite place in Twelve Acres?” As he spoke he reached out and touched her hair.

  Tugs of heat pulled inside her and she found she wanted to touch him, too, and be close. She took his hand in hers. “The museum, of course.”

  “Then we start there.” He put the car in drive with his free hand and pulled the car out into the road. “Town square, right? Main Street?”