Happy Memorial Day to all U.S. readers. And happy weekend to the rest of you!
I'd promised another snip from Carny's Magic, and here it is. This scene takes place after Carny and Peter have grown close and life at "Casa Spey" starts getting seriously, disturbingly weird. (The GIVEAWAY for this novel ends Monday, May 28, at 7 p.m. CDT.)
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I see no light through the small window beside Peter’s door, so I don’t knock. He could be asleep. Instead I go into stealth mode and let myself inside. Peter has left his door unlocked since we started seeing each other.
Immediately I know he’s here. His scent is stronger when he’s here, and I also pick up the sound of his soft, even breathing. Within seconds my eyes adjust to the gloom.
Filtered white moonlight clings to the body on the bed, or at least portions of it: Peter’s face, pale as a wafer, turned into the pillow; his arms, resting limply on his torso; one bent leg and the smudge of his canted foot. A dark-colored sheet obscures the rest.
He moves his head but doesn’t awaken. Even though silver minnows swim through his hair.
I want to tuck in his arms and that lone, out-flung leg, pull the sheet taut around him to make a protective bunting. Right now I could swear he’s a will-o’-the-wisp, seeping through the seams of night. The image frightens me. I want to make him solid again and anchor him to my world.
What am I going to do?
Pad over to his bed, for starters. Sink down beside it. Take one of his hands in both of mine and rest my forehead on this small bundle of us.
“Carny? Is that you?” He sounds groggy, wrung out. And very vulnerable.
“I’m so glad you came. I’m really sorry. It hurts, feeling this sorry.”
My throat begins to clog. “I know.” I kiss his hand.
“Don’t give up on me.”
My mouth forms the words I won’t.