Caught and Collared: Book One of the Larkspur Series

Chapter Seven

Hands safely in their pockets, Aden and Kristoffer followed the road toward the cottage. A polite yet deliberate space between them separated their shoulders and kept them from brushing, even accidentally. The lights and music faded at their backs as they walked in silence. At some distance from the house, as though far removed from curious ears, Kristoffer spoke first. Aden was obliged, in some private way, that it hadn't been him. He couldn't trust himself not to.

"I would ask how you've been, but I already know. And I'd hate to be the one who makes you talk about it more than I'm sure you already have."

"Thank you. And no thank you," Aden said. "You shouldn't feel bad for other people's unimaginative conversation topics."

Kristoffer let out a small laugh. "I suppose not. From what I've heard, you've been teaching."

"I don't know. What have you heard?"

"Nothing indecent, I assure you. Ellie has mentioned seeing you in passing."

"I teach at the University of Maryland. I specialize in Russian literature. Actually, I'm researching for a book right now."

"That's impressive."

"Not really. There's not much new going on in Russian Symbolism." Aden chuckled. "And you? I understood you were going to take the art world by storm, or something to that effect."

"Yes, well, I aimed for something a little more feasible. I'm a curatorial director for the contemporary art collection at the BMA," Kristoffer replied. "I've been working to expand our collection to include select Rothko pieces, which has been a bit of a passion project of mine."

Aden nodded, feigning interest, but he already knew about the Baltimore Museum of Art. He knew about the plan to expand the collection. He knew about the Joachim Koester exhibit from the fall, and the Sara VanDerBeek in the spring. It was difficult to explain how he knew, so he just played along with their pleasant conversation. Then, after a pause, Aden chose to break the silence this time.

"Did you ever ask about me?"

Kristoffer studied him from a moment. "Did I ask Ellie?"

"Yeah."

"No. I didn't think she would appreciate the question."

"I suppose she wouldn't."

"You seem disappointed by that."

"No. Just...curious." Aden trailed off, letting the thought die out there along the road. Ahead the dim lights of the cottage grew brighter. "You should probably get back to the party."

"Eventually," Kristoffer said. "I'm not in any rush. If anyone asks, I'll just tell them I was seeing a friend home."

"Would anyone ask?" Aden prodded, only half-joking. The other half felt like self-flagellation. "It's unseemly – being seen out with the groundskeeper's son, and at such a late hour."

"A professor of literature."

"Poor is poor, even if it wears a tie to work."

"That's never influenced how I see you."

"I'm afraid to even ask how you see me."

"Then I won't press the subject further."

Aden paused. A warm, queasy sort of feeling came over him at the way Kristoffer said that. Finally, uncertain if he even wanted to, he asked, "So are we going to talk about it? Or are we just going to keep not talking about it?"

Kristoffer didn't immediately answer. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Aden allowed himself to admit, along with the nervous little laugh that rattled out of him for it. "I have no idea of what we are and aren't talking about, if I'm being honest."

"I had no intention of bringing it up," Kristoffer admitted in kind. Gently, of course, as though testing the shape of the conversation. "It seemed indecent."

"Indecent because my father just died, or indecent because you wanted to ask?"

"Yes."

Aden came to a sudden stop. Kristoffer did the same.

"Does that surprise you?"

"Honestly?" Aden shrugged. "I figured it was a safe bet that you wouldn't have wanted to see me again."

"Of course I would have. I was under the impression you wouldn't have wanted to see me."

"I'm not..." Aden sighed, then ruffled a hand through his hair. "There's nothing I can say that doesn't sound cowardly."

"I would never accuse you of cowardice."

"Maybe not. But I just felt...embarrassed, when I saw you."

Kristoffer looked hurt by that, if only just. "Does seeing me embarrass you?"

Aden considered his response carefully. It would be easy to say the wrong thing, the stupid thing. The thing that left him vulnerable, belly exposed for attack. So instead he said, "I was young. I wanted to feel older than I was. Feel like I had more control."

"That's natural. You were eighteen."

"And you were twenty-eight."

"Yes. Old enough to know better."

"Choosing not to?"

Humor, however faint, crossed Kristoffer's expression. "I've been informed I have a habit of that."

"You've could've taken advantage of me."

"I know. But it wouldn't have been right."

"It wasn't illegal," Aden said. "I was old enough to consent."

"Just because something isn't illegal doesn't make it right."

"Why did you do it, then? If it wasn't right?"

"Why did you?" Kristoffer asked. "You put yourself in danger by trusting me. I could have hurt you. Quite frankly, I thought I had."

"You wouldn't have hurt me. You weren't capable of it."

"Trusting someone not to hurt you isn't the same thing as trusting them to care for you."

"You did, and..." Aden's stomach tensed at the thought of it as it tumbled, unbidden, from his mouth. "I wanted to let you."

"Then I regret pushing you away when I did."

"How?"

"The last time we saw each other," Kristoffer said. "When we fought. You stormed home angry with me. By the time I came back to apologize, your father said you had moved away to stay with your grandmother. I assumed you left to put an end to things with me."

Aden shook his head. "Gale sent me off to stay with her. It had nothing to do with you."

"He sent you away?"

"I just wasn't wanted around anymore, I guess."

"I'm sorry, but...I have to admit I'm a little relieved to hear that," said Kristoffer.

Aden smirked. "What? You were afraid you were dumped by jailbait?"

"I was afraid I had lost you."

The frankness of Kristoffer's words put that warm feeling at the base of Aden's spine. After a moment, he said, "You should get back to the party. I don't want to keep you."

Kristoffer looked like he wanted to say something else, but he merely nodded. "Of course. Goodnight, Aden."

"Goodnight."

Once Kristoffer's silhouette vanished into the darkness, Aden didn't sleep that night, either. Instead he was haunted by things besides Gale Brand's ghost.

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