My Dad's Bestfriend (Evelyn and Jacob) novel Chapter 256

Sienna

"It didn't look this far from there," I whispered as he led me toward the lake. Suddenly the distance seemed immense — strange, because from where we'd stood it had looked only a few steps away, as if the water were coaxing us closer. Wasn't this a weird illusion?

"Places like this are confusing, Flower." He laughed softly, steadying me when I nearly slipped on a loose stone. There were too many stones here, jutting like little teeth from the earth.

"Why so many rocks? I don't get it!" I asked, blinking at them.

"Wish rocks," he said, taking both my hands to help me over the uneven ground. It would've been easy to fall without him, though I kept pretending I didn't need the help. "There used to be houses here. A tribe lived around the lake before they eventually moved away. They believed the water granted wishes, probably still do no matter wherever they are— so they'd write them down, tuck them under a rock, sometimes throw them into the lake."

"That's...fascinating." I wanted the whole story in one breath. "Why did they leave? When?"

"Maybe a decade ago." We reached the water and I saw the benches dotted along the shore — nicer than it had looked from a distance. "They thought the lake would never die. There was a man, Jordan. He was from the tribe—he was maybe sixty years old at that time and I was eight if I remember correctly," he shrugged, "He told me the stories when I used to come with..."—he paused, an unmeasurable pause—"family." The word tasted bitter on his tongue. I didn't press.

It felt right to let it go and I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I had suddenly started caring about his comfort.

"Did you stop coming here?" I asked, cautious.

He drew his jacket tighter and watched the lake. "You could say that," he said finally. The place held something for him; grief, maybe, or memory. "It was necessary."

"You miss him? Jordan?"

He chuckled, soft but closed. "I don't miss anyone, Flower." He sat on a bench and put his hand along the backrest. "I'm not made that way."

"What are you, a robot?" I slid beside him. "Stop pretending you're steel. No one's watching."

"You are." He looked at me like it was fact.

"I'm harmless. I probably couldn't hurt you even if I tried." I tried to make my voice light. "Look at me — I can't even fight you off."

A small laugh escaped him before he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. The contact sent a shiver down my spine, the wind brushing us both. "You think you're harmless," he murmured, voice low enough only I could hear, "but you have the power to hurt more than anyone or anything in this world. You just don't know it yet and I hope you don't anytime soon."

I understood and I didn't. His words landed somewhere inside me and stayed.

I held my breath, unable to look away or form a reply. He must have read whatever conflict flitted across my face, because he spoke again, lighter now, almost teasing: "So — what's your grand revenge plan for your ex?"

"Excuse me." I shifted, frowning despite the echo of his last sentence. "That's none of your business."

"Maybe you don't know," he said, amusement threading his tone, "but everything about you has always been my business."

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