marbles.
“No.” She glanced at Mindy, who was doing her best not to laugh. “It’s too bad that they don’t sell this jam in the city. The packaging is adorable, and I bet it would sell like hotcakes in one of those little gourmet shops.” Great. Now she was babbling about jam.
“Well, stock up then.” He winked at Mindy and placed two baskets of food on the counter. “I’m going to make one more pass around the store, and then we’ll head to the Towne Store for fishing tackle.”
“Fishing?” Marianna replied incredulously as he walked away and scooped up another basket. “It’s the dead of winter. I’m not going fishing.”
“Yes, you are,” he shouted from the back of the store.
“Honey.” Mindy gave her arm a friendly pat. “Go fishing. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch more than fish.”
***
They made quick work of their shopping and filled the truck with their purchases. Unfortunately, Pete wasn’t kidding about the fishing gear, but he was crazy if he thought she was going fishing in the frigid cold. She’d heard humans complain about the cold and always thought they were a bunch of whiners—not so much now. Every time they went outside, she felt the cold in her bones, and it was not a sensation she wanted to stay familiar with.
She stared at the passing scenery as the truck bounced along the country road. Marianna wiped absently at the fogged up window as her thoughts went to Dante and her mother. She couldn’t recall ever going one day without touching her mind to theirs, and she caught herself trying to do it again—but still nothing. It had been barely a full day since the powder had taken effect, but it felt more like years.
“How do you do it?” she mused quietly.
“Do what?” Pete gave her a questioning glance and turned into the driveway as snow started falling again.
She was quiet for a few moments, trying to choose the right words. “Live in such… isolation?”
“You mean here in the mountains?” He pulled up in front of the cabin, threw the truck into park, and leaned back in the well-worn bench seat. “I don’t live here year-round. It’s a getaway spot.”
“No.” She shook her head and captured his gaze. “Not the cabin. I don’t mean physically isolated.” Her voice dropped to a shaky whisper, and she closed her eyes, struggling to explain how she was feeling. “I’m talking about the emotional and mental isolation of being human, the inability to connect with another person’s mind, to read their energy and to know exactly how they’re feeling.”
“Marianna?” Pete’s warm hand cradled her cheek and brushed away one tear with his thumb, creating breathtaking friction. “Look at me please.”
She sucked in a deep breath and opened her teary eyes to find that the tenderness in his touch was matched by the look on his face.
“I’m sorry.” He gently wiped away another tear. “Do you really need your Amoveo abilities to know how much it’s killing me to see you hurting? And because of something I did?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “But it’s nothing compared to how I’d feel if those Purist assholes got their hands on you. They won’t touch you, Marianna. You have to trust me.”
His eyes searched hers for something. Trust? Forgiveness? Love? The truth was that she simply didn’t know. She couldn’t sense his energy, but she could most definitely feel his touch, and it was enthralling.
Pete’s fingertips brushed the side of her neck as he held her face in his hand. She slipped her glove off and placed her hand over his, pressing it against her cheek, needing to connect with him—to feel another person—to feel something .
The sound of their breathing and the hum of the engine surrounded them in the cab of the old truck. As the snow fell silently outside, the rest of the world fell away, and it seemed that it was just them… alone… in the quiet of the falling snow.
Her gaze wandered over the sharp angles of
“No.” She glanced at Mindy, who was doing her best not to laugh. “It’s too bad that they don’t sell this jam in the city. The packaging is adorable, and I bet it would sell like hotcakes in one of those little gourmet shops.” Great. Now she was babbling about jam.
“Well, stock up then.” He winked at Mindy and placed two baskets of food on the counter. “I’m going to make one more pass around the store, and then we’ll head to the Towne Store for fishing tackle.”
“Fishing?” Marianna replied incredulously as he walked away and scooped up another basket. “It’s the dead of winter. I’m not going fishing.”
“Yes, you are,” he shouted from the back of the store.
“Honey.” Mindy gave her arm a friendly pat. “Go fishing. If you’re lucky, you’ll catch more than fish.”
***
They made quick work of their shopping and filled the truck with their purchases. Unfortunately, Pete wasn’t kidding about the fishing gear, but he was crazy if he thought she was going fishing in the frigid cold. She’d heard humans complain about the cold and always thought they were a bunch of whiners—not so much now. Every time they went outside, she felt the cold in her bones, and it was not a sensation she wanted to stay familiar with.
She stared at the passing scenery as the truck bounced along the country road. Marianna wiped absently at the fogged up window as her thoughts went to Dante and her mother. She couldn’t recall ever going one day without touching her mind to theirs, and she caught herself trying to do it again—but still nothing. It had been barely a full day since the powder had taken effect, but it felt more like years.
“How do you do it?” she mused quietly.
“Do what?” Pete gave her a questioning glance and turned into the driveway as snow started falling again.
She was quiet for a few moments, trying to choose the right words. “Live in such… isolation?”
“You mean here in the mountains?” He pulled up in front of the cabin, threw the truck into park, and leaned back in the well-worn bench seat. “I don’t live here year-round. It’s a getaway spot.”
“No.” She shook her head and captured his gaze. “Not the cabin. I don’t mean physically isolated.” Her voice dropped to a shaky whisper, and she closed her eyes, struggling to explain how she was feeling. “I’m talking about the emotional and mental isolation of being human, the inability to connect with another person’s mind, to read their energy and to know exactly how they’re feeling.”
“Marianna?” Pete’s warm hand cradled her cheek and brushed away one tear with his thumb, creating breathtaking friction. “Look at me please.”
She sucked in a deep breath and opened her teary eyes to find that the tenderness in his touch was matched by the look on his face.
“I’m sorry.” He gently wiped away another tear. “Do you really need your Amoveo abilities to know how much it’s killing me to see you hurting? And because of something I did?” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “But it’s nothing compared to how I’d feel if those Purist assholes got their hands on you. They won’t touch you, Marianna. You have to trust me.”
His eyes searched hers for something. Trust? Forgiveness? Love? The truth was that she simply didn’t know. She couldn’t sense his energy, but she could most definitely feel his touch, and it was enthralling.
Pete’s fingertips brushed the side of her neck as he held her face in his hand. She slipped her glove off and placed her hand over his, pressing it against her cheek, needing to connect with him—to feel another person—to feel something .
The sound of their breathing and the hum of the engine surrounded them in the cab of the old truck. As the snow fell silently outside, the rest of the world fell away, and it seemed that it was just them… alone… in the quiet of the falling snow.
Her gaze wandered over the sharp angles of
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