Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)
“Do I smell coffee?” I want to ask about that night, but I don’t want to worry her more than I already have.
She nods and takes the box of pastries so I can remove my coat. She opens it, her eyes growing bigger at the sight of the freshly baked, plump cinnamon buns. When she breathes in the wafting of cinnamon, sugar, and butter, she moans.
The sight of her pleasure makes me smile. “They’re best fresh,” I say, leading her into the kitchen.
“Father Michael mentioned them,” she says, setting the box on the table. She touches my face, then takes my hands. “You’re freezing.”
“Coffee will warm me up.”
“Sit down, Santos.” I do and watch her as she makes a fresh batch of coffee. She studies me quietly as it brews, then pours me a mug and brings it over to the table. “What was the dream?”
I see her face again as it was in the dream, and I think Thiago and I aren’t even-Steven. We never will be. Because he saved her life, and I will forever be indebted to him for that.
“The lighthouse.” I reach to take her hand, squeeze it. “I keep seeing you go over. You and Thiago.”
“Jesus.”
“It’s okay. You’re safe. I know that. Eat, Madelena.”
She eyes the cinnamon rolls, then reaches in to take one that’s sticky with buttery cinnamon-sugar. She bites it. “Oh. Wow.”
I smile. “We’ll have to save one for Father Michael. He has a weakness for these things. Surprised he’s not big as a house considering.”
“He mentioned that. He came over with firewood earlier and told me you always walk the beach when you’re here and come back with cinnamon rolls.”
I nod, drinking my coffee and watching her eat.
“Next time you have a bad dream, wake me up, okay?” she asks as she pops the last of it into her mouth.
“You have a little something,” I start, getting up and moving toward her. I lean my face close to hers. “Cinnamon sugar.” I kiss her mouth, taste the sticky sweetness of her lips. “Let’s go upstairs, Madelena.”
She looks up at me. I draw her to her feet and lead her up to the bedroom. I need her to not worry. To not ask questions I don’t want to answer just yet.
I simply need to be close to her because like this place, she heals.
We spend a full week at the cottage. I intended on one night but can’t bring myself to leave, can’t get enough of seeing Madelena as she is here. Soft, relaxed, herself. It’s one week where, after leaving Caius and Odin messages to let them know we’re out of town, Madelena and I walk along the beach, eat too many cinnamon rolls, and spend the nights making love in front of the fire. It’s easy, simple. It’s a life that can’t ever be mine, not outside of this little cottage, this little forgotten town.
On the morning of the eighth day, the mood palpably different than the prior days, we pack our single duffel into the car and reluctantly say goodbye to Father Michael. I feel better than I have in a long time as I hug my old friend and savior. But I can’t keep the sense of dread from creeping in as I climb into the SUV, and we begin the drive back to Avarice. Back to reality.
“You like it here?” I ask her.
“I love it here. I don’t want to leave, actually.”
“We’ll come back. It’s our secret place. No one knows about it. Hells Bells is just for us, just you and me, okay?”
She studies my face. Does she hear what I’m not saying? She nods.
As soon as we’re about twenty minutes out of town and within reach of a cell tower, the barrage of text messages and emails sets my phone on fire. The lack of connectivity is one of the things that has always made Hells Bells a haven for me, but when reality hits, it hits hard.
After glancing at a few texts from Caius asking where I am and how long I plan to be MIA, I ignore all the messages. I send a quick text to Val telling him our ETA, then tuck the phone into my pocket.
“You know, we don’t have to go back,” Madelena says.
I glance at her. “I think we do. Besides, I’m sure your brother will want to see you today. Happy birthday, by the way.” I smile at her. She attempts a smile. “And of course there’s the meeting with your uncle’s lawyer.”
“I’m sure we can do that another day.” She turns away.
I glance at the rearview mirror. The sign welcoming visitors to Hells Bells has barely faded into the background, and already, everything feels different.
“I’m nervous.” She keeps her gaze out the side window.
I squeeze her knee. “I’ll be there with you. And you don’t have to do anything but sign the paperwork and take the key. That’s all.”