The Other Side of Envy: The Ghost Bird Series: #8 (The Academy) by C. L. Stone Read Free Book Online Page A

planned before.
    I couldn’t formulate the question to ask his full meaning, but I was saved by the waiter bringing over the check and asking if he could box our food. Mr. Blackbourne paid quickly in cash and declined the boxes.
    When the waiter left with the cash, including tip, in hand, Mr. Blackbourne took one more sip of coffee and glanced at me. “I don’t want to rush you,” he said.
    I shook my head quickly, pushed my chair back slightly and stood. I liked spending time with him, but felt like I’d ruined the moment earlier and wanted a chance to step away, rethink what happened, and perhaps come back later with an apology and an explanation. “I know you need to get going.”
    He straightened his suit jacket, buttoning it back up and then touched the knot of his tie again. He guided me to walk with him toward the exit.
    This time, I got just the slightest of touches near the base of my spine as we headed for the door. Fingertips only. No palm. No hand holding. He was tentative around me.
    Don’t be like that. I didn’t want him to be uncomfortable. I wanted to go back and change my answers, but I couldn’t. I still felt like I needed to forget the past. My father refused to speak of it, and my stepmother had kept it tucked in her memory for sixteen years without a word until recently, a secret they’d meant to bury forever. Unearthing my mother’s history might mean something far worse to deal with than we could imagine. In my heart, I knew Mr. Blackbourne meant well, but could he possibly understand my feelings?
    I didn’t want to let him think I was angry at him for it. I was actually touched that he was making an effort. I didn’t want us to change, whatever we were; part of a family.
    When we got to the door, Mr. Blackbourne moved ahead to open it, and stood by, waiting.
    I caught my opportunity. Instead of moving far away from him to exit, I made sure to move straight past, as close as possible.
    I reached out slightly, brushing my fingers against the back of his hand.
    “Thank you for breakfast,” I said quietly as I stepped outside. My heart was in my throat. Was that inappropriate to touch him? He was acting as a teacher, but he wasn’t really. Like Dr. Green, he was only three years older, and a spy for the Academy, not really someone in authority. He was part of our group.
    There was a pause in the world. Mr. Blackbourne paused mid-step. His eyes were forward, his gaze steady. Not breathing. Not talking. Simply calmness. It was for only a second, but the second lasted a while, and I had enough time for my heart to skip and wonder if I’d been mistaken in how to handle my approach.
    He followed immediately, letting the door close behind him. “My pleasure,” he said, quickly. “We should do this more often.”
    I smiled and nodded, although I hoped more breakfasts with Mr. Blackbourne were friendlier and without confrontation.
    I moved toward his car, and this time, his palm touched my lower back, warming a spot on my spine.
    He knew I wasn’t upset with him, or he’d forgiven me for declining his request to talk to my stepmother. Either way, I felt I saved that bit of...whatever it was we had together.
    I’d do whatever was necessary to keep it.
     
     

THE HOUSE OF COLEMAN
     
     
    M r. Blackbourne drove for almost twenty minutes along the interstate, heading out of Charleston. Traffic was heavy. Mr. Blackbourne remained quiet the entire trip.
    I couldn’t blame him. My mind went over our conversation, and I sought out the words to express to him how I felt. Wasn’t it okay to let the past remain in the past? Wasn’t it more important to work on us now? He’d said we had a month to convince the Academy I should join with their team. That seemed much more important than digging up things that no longer mattered. If he was seeking out the past for what he thought was my benefit, I needed to find a way to let him know it was unnecessary.
    I let it go. I couldn’t imagine talking