My Dad's Bestfriend

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."

I slid beside him. "Stop pretending you're

at me like

hurt you even if I tried." I tried to make my voice light. "Look

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

I didn't. His words landed somewhere inside

held my breath, unable to look away or form

flitted across my face, because he spoke again, lighter now, almost teasing: "So what's your grand

me." I shifted, frowning despite the echo of his last sentence. "That's

he said, amusement threading his tone, "but everything about you

my skin, but they did. They made sense disturbingly

He'd been a constant presence a shadow at my shoulder I tried to shake off, the one who

had always been there. Is there.

that?" I snapped, cutting through

it swallowed me.

been called worse. This isn't one of

add this to

"Declined."

This man-

to curse, to spit something sharp, but instead I

was when I knew: maybe I was already

at him? Definitely not a

ridiculous—"asshole" seemed too easy

He smirked, leaning in until his breath ghosted

might be growing