Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,38

past this unnecessary tension.

“Jacob told us that he told you what happened with Jules.” He shrugged. “I made a promise to him that I would never allow anyone to endanger our group again. This town has lost almost everything. I’ve had to bury my neighbor's daughters. Their sons. They need a cohesive leadership council.”

“I’m not a threat to you,” I barked.

Huxley looked me up and down with appraising eyes. “You are exactly the kind of threat I’d like to avoid,” he said. “We’re a competitive bunch, and someone like you could ruin us.”

I openly gaped at him. I’m a nobody. How could he possibly think that I could ruin anything? I reached out and grabbed his hand. Dirt completely covered it, and he tried to yank it away, but I gripped harder, refusing to release my hold.

“I am not a threat to you,” I insisted, waiting until he looked me in the eye. “I’m not Jules. I’m just a girl that needed a safe place and freedom.” Admitting this hurt me, and I released his hand to wipe a tear that streamed down my cheek.

“The fact that you don’t know your power makes you that much more destructive.”

I flinched at his words. How could he think I would ever do anything to hurt the people that gave me a life outside of the Stonewell House?

“I see,” I whispered. I quickly stood and threw away the trash from lunch. Within seconds, I had packed the leftovers and was fleeing out the door. Huxley didn’t stop me, nor did he apologize. I suddenly felt determined to prove him wrong. I would become like a sister to them. Despite the undeniable, but minor attraction I felt towards them. I refused to allow Huxley to have any further reason to hate me.

Perhaps my new determination was what encouraged me to answer the tablet call that rang in my room the moment I arrived in my bedroom. I sighed but answered on the fourth ring. Josiah rolled his eyes the moment our tablets connected, in a brief relief before scrunching his face up in frustration.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” he asked incredulously and in a tone that made me nervous. Despite our relationship, the Stonewells maintained an authoritative hold over me. I still cringed, knowing I’d done wrong, even miles away in a completely different province.

“I-I needed space,” I answered cautiously.

“I’ve been going mad not talking to you,” he said helplessly.

I observed him openly and felt my heart break at his disheveled appearance. Josiah, indeed, appeared to be distraught. His hair stood up as though he had spent the past four days running his hand aggressively through it.

“Please tell me you're alright. Tell me you miss me. Tell me anything; I just need to hear your voice and pretend you're in this room with me. That I’ll wake up from this nightmare.” He threw his head down on his arms and shook violently. This new, vulnerable side of Josiah was shocking.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered. “I miss you, too . . . so much, Josiah.” The truth of my words rang through me, but something nagged my conscious. I would never admit it, but when I was with the others, I didn’t miss Josiah as much. That realization was both a relief and a terror. “I keep thinking about our kiss,” I added. I’m not sure what compelled me to tell Josiah that, but it was true. Late at night, I still remembered how he crushed himself to me.

“Me, too,” Josiah admitted. He licked his lips slowly, and the familiar flutter in my stomach tickled my heart and made my breathing grow shallow.

We continued to chat until dinner time. I was reluctant to let Josiah go. It was a side of him that made me nervous and regretful. Did I make the right decision in coming here? Would he have changed? Could we have had a life together? He wouldn’t let me hang up without promising to call again, tomorrow.

After the call ended, I changed into one of my more modest dresses from back in Galla. Although the new summer dresses that filled my closet were surprisingly comfortable, I needed to cling to something from my old life; something to remind myself why I was here and what my purpose was.

Dinner was a joyful affair, everyone spoke cheerfully to one another, and occasionally, someone would include me in the conversation. However, I remained polite and distant, sometimes throwing Huxley a glare.

“I’m sad that you