Cursed be the Wicked (16 page)

The first thing that strikes me as odd is her tone. And I wonder how Liz knows Jack. The second thing that’s weird to me is, why does she care that I’m talking to him?

I shrug as I get my wallet out.

“I was asking him about Mom.”

Her attitude changes and she assures me, “Cooper, anything you want to know, you can always come to me.”

The way she says it, so sugary sweet, gives me the chills and I’m not a hundred percent sure as to why but, regardless, I approach with caution.

“Thanks Liz. Honestly, I just thought it would be a good idea to get an outsider’s opinion. You know, a different perspective.”

I see Jack. He’s just outside the window, peering in at me as I try to get rid of my aunt. I know he won’t stick around long. I pull some cash out of my wallet and leave it on the table for the waitress. Then grab my jacket.

“He’s not the most trustworthy source around,” my aunt insists.

“Thanks again, Liz, I know where you live. We’ll catch up some time.”

“Maybe,” she mumbles, and then, “or maybe we’ll talk sooner than you think, Cooper.”

I nod and give her a smile, then I rush out after him but once I’m outside, he’s nowhere to be seen.

It’s cold and the clouds look worse than when I was heading over to Finn’s earlier. They’re about to open up on me but I don’t care, my heart is racing and I’m pissed off and frustrated. I stare off across the street and then I wonder what the hell Finn is doing here, and why she’s skulking through the woods like she’s on a secret mission of some sort.

I do a double take and get a closer look to make sure it’s her, then I chuckle a little at how completely out there she can be sometimes. And nuts for taking a mid-day stroll through a wooded area that isn’t exactly on the safe side of town. In the middle of a thunder storm.

As the first raindrops begin to fall, I think twice about calling out to her. Somehow, I feel like I’d be interrupting something if I do so. I scan the streets to make sure no one’s watching me. Back in the restaurant, my aunt is talking to the waitress.

All clear.

I cross the road and follow Finn through the trees, sure to hang back so she doesn’t catch me stalking her. It doesn’t take long for the brush to get thick and the rain to slow a little. It’s hard as hell to be quiet but the ground isn’t so dry that the branches crack with every step, so at least I’ve got that going for me.

I lurk behind her several feet, maybe further. I’m close enough to notice everything about her, though. From the way she pulls her hair back into a pony tail while she’s walking and nearly trips over her own feet in doing so, to the way it seems like she’s following an imaginary map as she navigates through the woods, to the strong urge I feel to catch up and tug at her arm, then pull her into me so I can finally see what it’s like to kiss the hell out of her.

I don’t know why I’ve put it off. All the reasons I’ve been making not to kiss her suddenly make no sense.

Every so often I hear her mumble something to herself and I swear, at one point, she turns back toward me so quickly I’m sure she sees me but after blinking through the droplets of water falling all around her, she keeps onward with her trek.

We come up on a small grassy clearing, eventually. It’s surrounded by several huge oaks that might very well have been here over a thousand years already. It looks as though someone planted them with purpose. They make, what seems to me, a perfect circle and provide just enough cover that I can barely see the sky above us. Or the rain.

Finn comes to a halt and I slip behind one of the old trees. I wait before peeking out, carefully, to see if she’s spotted me. She’s hasn’t and as she stands in the middle of the trees, eyes closed, her mouth moves as though she’s saying something but I can’t hear a word. I feel like I’m intruding, as intimate and personal as this place seems to be for her. I try not to breathe while I stand and stare, debating whether I should go.

Thunder cracks from above us and instinctively, I look up just as heavier rain trickles down through the leaves. When I search for Finn again, she’s watching me.

I expect anger, for following her here, but it never arrives.

“I never come here anymore,” she says with bright eyes. Then she glances around at the trees like they’re old friends while she steps toward me. When she’s just in front of me, she holds her hand out, past the cover of the circle. She lets the fresh rain puddle in her palm. She’s in awe, as though she’s never experienced a storm.

And I can’t take my eyes off of her.

I also can’t resist the need to touch her anymore, so I take her hand in mine and pull her closer.

“That’s a shame,” I say. “It’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful.

There’s something there in her expression when I answer. Something that matches my own, I’m sure. She lets her eyes meet mine, then her lips curl upward. I see it clearly.

Contentment.

“Why’d you follow me, Coop?” She asks me like she’s scolding, but I can tell by the grin she’s sporting, she doesn’t really care. Not the way I think she does.

I answer honestly.

“I couldn’t help myself.”

I couldn’t. I don’t know why, all I know is that I was drawn to her the way I am every time I see her. I leave that last part out though. Whether for her sake or mine, I don’t know that either.

She tilts her face up, letting the rain wash her thoughts away and for the first time, I notice, she looks tired. I reach forward and wipe her cheeks with my thumb. It lingers there, as she lowers her head to look into my eyes again.

“Everything alright with you?” I ask her and she nods, her eyes brightening again, slightly.

“I’m glad you followed me.”

I encircle her with my arms and pull her close. The rain is really starting to come down now but I don’t care. I’m just glad I’m here with her.

“I came by Geneva’s to see you this morning,” I tell her and she slides her hands inside my jacket, around my waist. She holds us together tighter.

We’re like pen and paper, Finn and me. A fated match.

“You did?” There’s a smile in her voice. I grin but she can’t see it.

“I’ve kinda gotten used to starting my days out with you in them.”

“You have?” She leans back to look at me. She looks stunned although I have no idea why. I’ve been so transparent even a bat could see through me the past few days.

“Yeah,” I tell her, “I have.” I brush the hair out of her face. Even through the rainfall I can see the blush in her cheeks. This is the most vulnerable I’ve seen Finn since Geneva’s, when she thanked me for handling Dan.

“Most people don’t like the way I’m so pushy sometimes,” she says. “They find it offensive. Some of them might even say I’ve got a smart mouth. Too smart for my own good, blah, blah, blah.”

She trails off at the end there and I laugh at the way she thinks I’m buying that none of it bothers her.

“Come to think of it, you did say something I found offensive yesterday,” I tell her, half serious. She looks hurt but I can’t stop the smirk from spreading across my face as I back her up against the nearest tree.

She’s caught off guard by the move, I can hear it in the way she skips a breath or two.

“What was that?”

She tries to recover but she fails.

“I believe the term you used was
friends
,” I tell her, narrowing my eyes. Her lips part, just slightly. She swallows something down then clears her throat.

“Isn’t that what we are?”

I move my head from side to side. “I don’t think so, Finn.”

And because she has to say something about everything, she starts to open her mouth but this time, I stop her.

My fingers lift her chin up and my lips are against hers without thinking about it another second.

As my hands cup her face, she breathes in. She grasps my shirt in her hands and arches her back, just slightly. Her skin is like glass. It’s smooth, delicate and after a few hesitant, soft kisses, the moment turns urgent.

Finn’s leg slips in between mine. A groan escapes from one of us. Maybe both, I’m not sure.

I deepen the kiss as the rain pours down on top of us. The drops are cold and cut to the bone but Finn’s tongue is perfect, and warm and inviting.

I don’t feel the rain anymore.

Her fingers slide under my shirt. They’re like ice, but she’s tender. It’s nice at first but she’s hesitant about what to do. Her feathery touches are driving me mad. I want them hard, I want them lower.

A gritty curse escapes me when her palm presses just above where I need to feel her. My instincts lead my own hand under her top to feel warm skin, waiting for me.

I could move this along. I’m sure she’d let me, but after a few more moments I break our kiss because this is becoming more than I can handle out here in the woods. I press my forehead against hers. I breathe. Then I breathe some more.

Finn’s chest heaves. When she catches her breath, she speaks, panting. “I wasn’t expecting that to be so . . .” She glances away, looking for the right word.

I try to find it for her. “Intense?” It was definitely intense. I fully expect her to agree on this front when she finds my eyes again.

“Unexpected.”

I laugh at her description and pull her close.

“You are so warm.”

Finn giggles into my neck and it tickles.

She rests her head against my chest as she rewards me with yet another piece of Finn trivia in response to the way I’m holding her.

“My body temperature is half a degree warmer than most people. Gran says it’s why I’m so perceptive.”

Her hands are fully wrapped around me, now. Her fingers play at the hem of my shirt. I wish we were somewhere she could play at a lot more than that.

I breathe her in. “You say the weirdest shit, Finn.”

“Don’t I know it.”

I don’t want to let her go. I do it though, because we can’t just stand in the middle of the woods while it’s raining for the rest of the day. Even if it is letting up, finally.

For a second or two I feel awkward. I’m not really sure what to say after what just transpired between us. I’m a quick thinker, though.

“What is this place, anyway?”

The sun is peeking through the tree branches now. Thank God for a short lived storm.

Finn finds one of the old tree stumps and sits.

“Come on,” she says, urging me to join her. So I do.

“When I was little,” she starts, “I told you I used come to Salem in the summers.”

“Right.”

She smiles as if she’s remembering something. “I found this place on my second visit.”

It doesn’t surprise me that she’d come wandering into the woods even at such a young age. I already know of a couple other places she found while doing the same thing. It explains why we never crossed paths. I wasn’t a big woodsy kid. Especially not this deep into the woods.

“It was special,” she tells me. “I could think here.”

“And you haven’t been back in . . .?”

“Since they died.” She stops and corrects herself. “Well, since the summer after they died.”

She turns away and I drop the subject. It’s obviously sensitive. “So what are you here for now?” I ask, changing the subject for her. She breathes out, defeated, when she says it.

“Answers.”

“Did you find them?”

And now she’s looking at me again. And smiling.

“You kissed me, didn’t you?”

I ponder that thought. She was questioning us.

What if I hadn’t followed her out here? What if I hadn’t seen her in the first place? I track my day backwards and have to stop because it makes my head spin thinking of the possibilities. The small decisions that might have led to me not sitting here with her right now are endless.

“Good,” I tell her, taking her hand in mine, shaking thoughts of serendipity out of my head.

I think about how much courage she has to come back out here after all these years. It had to be difficult for her, yet here she is, facing the past.

She makes me think that maybe I can face mine.

“Let’s get out of here,” I suggest before I change my mind.

“Where to?”

“It’s a surprise,” I tease. “But first, you’re going to have to lead me out of here because I have no damn idea where we are.”

Finn laughs hard and stands, pulling me up with her. Then we head out of the forest.

We make our way back to the street, where I first found her this morning. As we exit the woods, the skies clear and the rain stops.

In the car, Finn is curious. “Are you gonna tell me where we’re going, Coop?”

I snicker at her. “Paybacks are hell,” I say, and then I turn the music up for the rest of the ride.

As we grow closer to Mom’s old house, I see the rowan tree this time. It’s peeking out at me from the backyard and I can almost hear my mother singing that song she used to sing. Only this time, the words I recall are different.

“Rowan tree, red thread, holds the witches all in dread.”

“What’s that mean, Mom?”

“It means I’ll always protect you, Coop.”

I park in the driveway and Finn is silent as I exit the car. I stand at the beginning of our old sidewalk. If I follow it, it’ll lead me to the front door.

Staring up at my old bedroom window. I half expect to see my mother standing there. When I feel someone next to me I don’t look over. I keep my eyes fixated on that window.

“You gonna tell me I’m not ready for this yet?”

“No,” Finn says.

I purse my lips and nod. I’m not sure I am, whether she says it or not. Not until I feel her fingers entwine with mine as our hands dangle between us.

“Do you have any plans for the rest of the day?”

“No.”

“Free for the rest of the night, then?”

“Sure am.”

“Do you—?”