Ranger [ON HOLD]

Chapter Eighteen - Better Left Unsaid

I wanted to learn more about them. 

I wasn't far into the book after all, so my questions burned more than ever. I just wished I'd read more rather than fantasize about the characters and daydream about the rest of the story.

My fingers began to fiddle with the vine bracelet around my wrist.

I found myself checking constantly to make sure it would stay in place, knowing that it was there to protect me despite the itchiness it caused. The small jar Ranger had given me was currently tucked into the pocket of my zip-up hoodie. An item of clothing I found extremely comforting and warm, given its large size. 

Not just because Ranger had given it to me, of course.

I cleared my throat, pushing aside the thought of the blond male before I hurried to slide off the bed and make my way toward the door. Thankfully my leg and hand no longer twinged with every movement, though I was still careful not to put too much pressure or strain on my knee in particular.

My head poked out into the hallway, and I half expected to be scolded immediately for getting up. But when no one appeared, I took it as encouragement to ease my way down the stairs. And it seemed much harder to do so than it had the day before - likely due to my lack of pain medication. 

The stairs lead straight down into the center of the house, leaving a large area open between the foot and the front door directly across from me. Beside it, I noted a series of wall pegs divided in half between jackets and large guns that hung on thick straps.  

It was different to finally see it all, rather than imagine it.

The rug I'd read about, at the very center of the large space, was older than I'd thought. The fibers were frayed, and the color that I had imagined to be a deep red and deep dark brown were in actuality faded from time.

To my left I saw the square arch to the sitting room turned library, and to my right I saw the identical arch of the kitchen.  

A long high set table made of old wood and chipped black paint sat alongside the wall to my right, just after the entryway to the kitchen. On top of it, an old bowl with oddly intricate yet simple designs that was empty apart from a small cloth bag as large as my fist. 

I could immediately assume that bag was for protection.

I took a hesitant few steps forward, leaning forward to peek into the library - the arch closest to the stairs.  

There were two steps down into the library. It allowed the shelves to reach just a little higher for the collection of books and papers Von had gathered over the years. Though the shelves had long since overflowed with knowledge, forcing the books to be stacked up along the walls. The room bore the same color scheme I was starting to find in the rest of the house; simple brown wooden flooring, and slightly lighter wooden walls.

The only way of light was the lamp in the far corner of the room, and the smaller lamp by the long couch that sat in the center facing a large brick fireplace. Though instead of being boarded up, a large metal gate had been pulled down over it and padlocked tight. 

The only furniture in the room aside from the book shelves, were an old dark brown couch, an equally old and matching armchair, and a coffee table overflowing with open books and scattered papers. 

Though the armchair faced away, I could see the distinct head of dirty blond hair and a set of tanned hands holding a large old book. 

"Anything you need?"

Crap.

I nearly jumped out of my skin as his voice reached my ears.

My hand flew to my chest, as though to ease the stutter of my heart. And after a deep breath, I took a hesitant step into the library.