Between Two Wolves and a Hard Place by Cassie Wright Read Free Book Online

looks so surprised, I might as well have said I make out with raccoons. "You do? Then you should call Drake immediately."
    "I should?"
    "Yes. He left a third of the building untouched except for the installation of some specialty ovens and equipment. It's not for rent, and he doesn't like to talk about it, but a friend of mine who knows a little about everything peeked in through a window and said it looks like a glassblowing shop. Maybe he'll let you use it?"
    I press the base of my palm to my temple. "Drake built a glassblowing studio? That he won't rent out?"
    Anna nodded. "Right in the beginning, when he first renovated, maybe five years ago? It's never been used. I'm sure he'd let you move in for the right price."
    "Oh. Yes. Thank you." Why am I suddenly breathless? Why are my thoughts spinning like dry leaves in a dust devil? I smile gratefully to Anna so that she doesn't start to worry about me. "I'll give him a call. Thank you again."
    Anna smiles warmly, pockets her keys, and steps past me toward the front door. I sit on the simple metal bench along the wall and try to process. Five years ago. Just after I left for Venice for my year-long apprenticeship. Did he hope I'd come back? I don't dare imagine. He never mentioned it. Of course not. Until last night, we hadn't spoken since my dramatic departure, all those years ago.
    I dig out my phone. I'm suddenly terrified. Do I dare call? Do I dare ask? I need the space. What are the odds that I'll find another unused workshop in town? I know the answer. None. I gulp, and think of the man I saw at Fool's Gold. Thick hair falling to his shoulders, his broad, manly shoulders, his large hands, his square jaw. His eyes. Troubled. Deep. Compassionate and hard at the same time. A vision from my past. He was just as tall when I saw him last, but gawky and gangly. How he's filled out over the years. Muscle layered on muscle, so he looks like a professional athlete.
    My heart is jumping rope. My throat is dry. I have to call. I want to call. I'm also terrified. I pick up the phone and dial again.
    "Hello?" His voice is even more terse than the first time.
    "Hi, Drake?" My heart gets bored with playing jump rope, and decides to climb up into my throat.
    "Yes?" A pause. "Kiera?"
    "Hi. I'm sorry. Please don't hang up."
    The silence grows painfully long, and then, just when I'm sure he's going to hang up regardless, he speaks. "How did you get this number?"
    "Well. You won't believe this, but I'm in your building by the Conway. Your mill?"
    "You're what?" He sounds shocked. "What - but - wait, what are you doing there?"
    I want to grin and cry at the same time. He sounds exactly as I remember when he gets flustered. Drake was always so fixated on being proper and honorable that he was the easiest person in the world to embarrass. I used to love teasing him, doing scandalous things or saying the most inappropriate words just to watch him get all tongue-tied.
    "I need studio space. I'm willing to pay." My words come out in a rush. "Anna says you have a glassblowing studio set aside that nobody's using."
    Silence. I can almost hear his disbelief. As if he's hearing a voice from beyond the grave.
    "Please, Drake. Please. I need this more than I can say."
    More silence. My whole world narrows down to my phone. There's so much I want to say. To explain. To apologize for. Yet I can't choke out the words. I can only wait and listen as Drake wrestles with himself, his anger, and what little regard for me he has left.
    "Wait," he finally says. "I'm driving over. I'll be there in ten."
    Then he hangs up.
     
     

Chapter 7
     
     
     
    These have to be the ten longest minutes of my life. I try to study the studio spaces around me. I peer inside windows. I read signs. I admire art. But I can't focus on a single thing. All I can think about is how Drake is on his way over. What will he say? Is he going to curse me out? No, not his style. Will he be cold and distant? For sure. Insulted? Maybe. Will