★★★★★ Watching the rain strike and recoil on the stone floor, Haven wondered at the existence of the room. The way she’d come in seemed to be the lone exit—although with Jett there was no telling—and the stairs were concealed behind the curve of wall. There was nothing to look at in the room except the walls, the floor and the rain, all bathed in the diffused light of a rainy day. She rubbed her arms and shivered. It couldn’t be more than fifty degrees. “What is this place?” “A place to remember the most painful times of my life.” She’d expected a strange answer, but this one didn’t make sense, even for Jett. “Why would you want to remember?” The air around her practically shimmered and Jett was there—not visible, but she could see where he stood because the rain stopped falling less than a foot away. “Let me clarify.” He spoke quietly. “I built this room hoping I could contain my pain here. Hoping that when I leave and close the door, it won’t follow me because there is the understanding I will visit often.” The intensity of his words caught her off guard. What kind of pain would prompt a man to build it a room? She could almost feel that ache radiating from him and her heart broke with the need to offer him comfort. She stretched a hand through the shroud of water toward the dry spot he occupied. He stepped back. She brought both of her hands to her sides. “It’s a shame to waste such a remarkable area on reliving awful things that can’t be changed.” Why would anyone want to relive pain unless they felt they owed some kind of penance? “Would you tell me something if I asked?” “If I can.” “Have you ever hurt a child?” Suddenly that empty space was part of hers. “You dare ask—” “A vulnerable woman?” Her hands trembled and her heart beat a timpani rhythm. She stood her ground. “Vulnerable? In what way?” “In the way of being helpless to protect herself if you wanted to hurt her.” “Never.” “What about a man, other than in defense of yourself or someone else?” Jett turned aside, and for a brief moment she saw the form of his hands and forearms passing through the water as he brought his hands to his face. “What does any of this have to do with—?” Haven grabbed his arm, ignoring his initial resistance, and slid her hand down to his. “I’m piecing things together, that’s all.” She took pleasure in the warmth of his hand in hers. The strength. “Is your pain the result of loss?” “Of sorts. Are you quite finished playing psychiatrist?” She was glad when he didn’t resist the coupling of fingers. “I’m just trying to figure out what it is that could drive a brilliant man to construct his own torture chamber.” ~~~~JETT is ONLY 99¢! Regularly $4.99~~~~ ow.ly/g8fdF “Wow is all I can say. Wow, wow, wow.” ★★★★★
Posted on: Wed, 25 Jun 2014 20:20:52 +0000
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