Hold Me Close - Talia Hibbert Page 0,16

looked astonished. “Three hours?”

“Yes. I should go.”

“Wait—” As she stood, he reached out to grab her wrist. His long fingers pressed firmly against her skin, hot as a brand. Ruth choked down a gasp at the sudden, unfamiliar sensation.

He heard. Instantly, he let go. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. It took all of her willpower not to look down at her wrist, not to cradle it against her chest as though he’d hurt her. He hadn’t hurt her.

He’d scared her. Because, with just a touch, he’d set her alight. That had happened once before, and it had been bad news.

Evan stood too, towering over her. For the first time, his expression betrayed something other than confidence. He seemed uncertain, confused.

“Well,” he said, his voice gentle. “I’ll… see you tomorrow?”

She shook her head. “It’s Sunday. I’m going to my mother’s.”

“Oh.” He nodded slightly. “But I’ll see you soon. Right?”

“I don’t know.”

“Ruth.” He didn’t touch her again, but he did move slightly in front of her. Not enough to block her way; just enough to make her look at him, whether she wanted to or not. “I like talking to you,” he said. “I’d like to keep doing this. Like… a book club. Would you like that?”

Ruth swallowed, hard, under the force of his gaze. It was so gentle, and yet it seemed so intense. It was strange; she’d always expected his beauty to be the most dangerous thing about him, but it wasn’t his handsome face or strong body that compelled her to nod.

It was his kindness.

“Good,” he said softly. He smiled, as if he were actually, truly happy about the prospect of doing this again. Sitting around talking comics with a neighbour he barely knew.

Maybe there was something wrong with him.

That would probably make him perfect for her.

“I’m leaving,” she said, and left. Instead of stopping her, or trying to tease out a proper goodbye, he simply followed her to the front door. He unlocked it for her, held it open. Stood in the doorway and watched as she opened her own.

“I’ll see you,” he said.

She shrugged and went inside.

Then she hovered in the front hall, her hand against the paper-thin wall that connected them. After a few, long minutes, she heard his door shut too.

Ruth decided that the next time she saw Evan Miller, she would wear her best pyjamas.

8

It was Zach who invited Evan over on Sunday—but Evan spent most of his time talking to Shirley.

He perched on a stool by the older woman’s bed, where she lay propped against a mountain of pillows.

Zach leant in the doorway of her bedroom, his arms folded, a teasing smile on his face.

“You got designs on my mother, Miller?”

Evan gave Shirley a wink. “Maybe. But I doubt she’d have me.”

Zach barked out a laugh. Shirley chuckled along too, clutching at her chest as though it was the funniest thing she’d heard all week.

Her amusement was real. Zach’s was hollow. There was too much worry beneath his smile, too much force behind his joviality. While Shirley laughed, Zach looked at his mother with so much hopeless love in his eyes, Evan felt his own heart twist.

He met Zach’s gaze. Hoped the message was clear. Go somewhere. Do something. Try to breathe.

Zach nodded slightly. “Tea, Mum?”

“Oh, yes, please, my darling.”

“Evan?”

“Cheers.”

Zach left, and Evan hoped he’d take a minute, or even a second, to calm down. To occupy his mind with something other than concern and heavy dread. He knew from experience, though, that it wasn’t easy.

“So,” Shirley said, flicking the tail of her silk scarf over her shoulder. “How have you been, sweetheart?”

Her crooked smile was a feminine twin of Zach’s. Evan returned it with ease. Shirley, as he’d discovered the previous week, was a fun time.

“I’m good, Shirl. What about you? Any luck with the nurse?”

Shirley winked. “She’s playing hard to get.”

“Don’t give up.”

She leaned forward slightly, her arm outstretched. He realised with a start that she was reaching for him, for the hand resting against his thigh. So he gave it to her, and was surprised when her thin, pale fingers clutched his firmly.

“I hope you’re doing well,” she said, with a gravity that he didn’t quite understand. “Zach was telling me about you the other day. He said you met a couple of weeks ago.”

“That’s right,” Evan said slowly. “I moved to Ravenswood at the end of February.”

“I’ve known the people in this town for years,” she said. “Zach’s had the same friends since he