Page 75 of Mountain Man’s Mystic Touch

I step aside.

He moves through the cabin efficiently, opening closets, checking windows, and looking behind the shower curtain. Ordinarily, the intrusion would irritate me. Tonight, the sound of his boots moving from room to room steadies something inside me.

“All clear,” he says when he returns.

“I assumed it would be.”

“I didn’t.”

“I know.”

He stands near the door, prepared to leave. His radio has remained silent for almost five minutes, but I can feel his attention stretching back toward the festival.

“You should go,” I say.

“Yes.”

Neither of us moves.

The cabin is mine. My crystals rest on the table. My scarves hang over two chairs despite my intention to put them away. Everything around me carries my energy instead of his. Yet I do not feel the relief I expected.

“When you left me alone in your cabin,” I say, “I needed you to go.”

Rocco remains unreadable. “You told me.”

“And it helped.”

“That was the purpose.”

“But when you left the second time, the solitude felt different.”

“How?”

“Empty.”

Something flickers in his eyes.

“I spend a great deal of time protecting my energy,” I continue. “I know how people affect me. Some take without realizing it. Some demand attention until there is nothing left for anyone else.”

“And me?”

I step closer.

“You should exhaust me.”

His eyebrows draw together.

“You notice everything. You occupy more space than most people even when you’re silent. My awareness finds you in every room.”

“I can leave.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Rocco looks toward my mouth, then back into my eyes. “You said you weren’t ready.”

“I wasn’t.”

“And now?”