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."

slid beside him. "Stop pretending you're steel. No

He looked at me

you even if I tried." I tried to

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

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

away or form a reply. He

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

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

know," he said, amusement threading his tone, "but everything about you has always been my

let the words dig under my skin, but they did. They made

the worst nights. He'd been a constant presence a

Grayson had always been there. Is there. Probably always

that?" I

it swallowed me.

called worse. This

this to the

"Declined."

This man-

to curse, to spit something sharp,

when I knew:

him? Definitely

word felt ridiculous—"asshole" seemed too easy

smirked, leaning in until his breath ghosted my face, noticing the one

You might