Read Online Hallowed: An Unearthly Novel by Cynthia Hand - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Cynthia Hand
Ads: Link
you’re married? What if you don’t get married until you’re thirty?”
He sighs. “I don’t know. I just love you. I don’t want to mess anything up.” This doesn’t make sense to me, but I nod. “So we’ll be good.”
“Right.”
“Because you’re scared.”
“Hey!”
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Even though that’s not much fun.” He startles me by flipping me over, pressing me gently back into the blanket at the bottom of the boat. “You don’t think this is fun?” he challenges, and then he kisses me until my insides turn to mush and my head goes all fuzzy.
Much, much later, we actually attempt to fish. I find that I still suck at it. And I still like that I suck at it. And Tucker is still some kind of fish whisperer.
“There now,” he says softly as he carefully removes the hook from the lip of a gleaming cutthroat trout. “You be smarter next time.”
He lowers it back into the water, where it darts away in a flash of green and silver. He looks up at me and grins wickedly. “Want to make out with me now?” he asks, holding up his fish-slimed hands.
“Um, tempting, but no,” I answer quickly. “I think we better be good, don’t you think?”
“That’s really funny,” he says, then starts re-tying his fishing line, “. . . so-ho-ho-ho funny.” A cloud moves over the sun, and suddenly it’s colder. Quieter. Even the birds stop singing. A shiver passes through me.
“Want my shirt?” Tucker asks, always the gentleman.
“I’m okay. I’m working on becoming immune to cold.”
He laughs. “Good luck with that. We probably won’t get any more days like this, warm enough to fish out here.” He threads some bait onto his line and casts again. Almost immediately he has a bite. The same fish.
“You deserve to be on a dinner plate,” he tells the cutthroat, but releases him again anyway. “Go! Find your destiny. Stay away from the shiny hook-type things.” This reminds me, for some crazy reason, of my talk with the school counselor.
“So, all this work you’re doing lately—” I start.
“Don’t remind me.”
“It’s to buy a new horse?”
“And a new truck, eventually, and by new I mean used, and by used I mean probably on its last legs, since that’s all I’ll be able to swing.”
“You’re not saving for college?” I ask.
Bad question. His eyes stay focused on his fishing pole, which he quickly unties and disassembles. “Nope,” he says with forced lightness. “After I graduate, I’ll stay on the ranch. Dad hurt his knee this spring, and we can’t afford to hire more help, so I thought I’d stick around.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say to that. “Did you have to go visit Ms. Baxter?”
“Yeah,” he says with a scoff. “She got me set up for some talks with Northern Arizona University next week. I guess I’ll probably go off to school in a year or two, because that’s what’s expected of me.”
“What would you study? In college, if you go?”
“Agriculture, probably. Maybe forestry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Forestry?”
“To be a ranger.”
I picture him in the green ranger uniform, wearing one of those hats like Smokey the Bear.
Which is totally hot.
“Hey, it’s getting late. Ready to go in?” he asks.
“Sure.” I reel in my line and stick my pole with Tucker’s at the bottom of the boat. He starts the motor, and in a few minutes we’re gliding over the water toward the dock. Neither of us says anything, but he suddenly sighs. He slows the boat to a crawl, then stops us. We’re right in the middle of the lake, the motor idling, the sun sinking behind the mountains.
“I don’t want to leave,” he says after a minute.
I look up at him, startled. “You don’t want to leave?”
He gestures around, at the towering blue mountains behind us, the gray heron skimming the water, the glimmers of the sinking sun on the lake. “This is it for me. This is
He sighs. “I don’t know. I just love you. I don’t want to mess anything up.” This doesn’t make sense to me, but I nod. “So we’ll be good.”
“Right.”
“Because you’re scared.”
“Hey!”
“Okay,” I say with a sigh. “Even though that’s not much fun.” He startles me by flipping me over, pressing me gently back into the blanket at the bottom of the boat. “You don’t think this is fun?” he challenges, and then he kisses me until my insides turn to mush and my head goes all fuzzy.
Much, much later, we actually attempt to fish. I find that I still suck at it. And I still like that I suck at it. And Tucker is still some kind of fish whisperer.
“There now,” he says softly as he carefully removes the hook from the lip of a gleaming cutthroat trout. “You be smarter next time.”
He lowers it back into the water, where it darts away in a flash of green and silver. He looks up at me and grins wickedly. “Want to make out with me now?” he asks, holding up his fish-slimed hands.
“Um, tempting, but no,” I answer quickly. “I think we better be good, don’t you think?”
“That’s really funny,” he says, then starts re-tying his fishing line, “. . . so-ho-ho-ho funny.” A cloud moves over the sun, and suddenly it’s colder. Quieter. Even the birds stop singing. A shiver passes through me.
“Want my shirt?” Tucker asks, always the gentleman.
“I’m okay. I’m working on becoming immune to cold.”
He laughs. “Good luck with that. We probably won’t get any more days like this, warm enough to fish out here.” He threads some bait onto his line and casts again. Almost immediately he has a bite. The same fish.
“You deserve to be on a dinner plate,” he tells the cutthroat, but releases him again anyway. “Go! Find your destiny. Stay away from the shiny hook-type things.” This reminds me, for some crazy reason, of my talk with the school counselor.
“So, all this work you’re doing lately—” I start.
“Don’t remind me.”
“It’s to buy a new horse?”
“And a new truck, eventually, and by new I mean used, and by used I mean probably on its last legs, since that’s all I’ll be able to swing.”
“You’re not saving for college?” I ask.
Bad question. His eyes stay focused on his fishing pole, which he quickly unties and disassembles. “Nope,” he says with forced lightness. “After I graduate, I’ll stay on the ranch. Dad hurt his knee this spring, and we can’t afford to hire more help, so I thought I’d stick around.”
“Oh,” is all I can think to say to that. “Did you have to go visit Ms. Baxter?”
“Yeah,” he says with a scoff. “She got me set up for some talks with Northern Arizona University next week. I guess I’ll probably go off to school in a year or two, because that’s what’s expected of me.”
“What would you study? In college, if you go?”
“Agriculture, probably. Maybe forestry,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Forestry?”
“To be a ranger.”
I picture him in the green ranger uniform, wearing one of those hats like Smokey the Bear.
Which is totally hot.
“Hey, it’s getting late. Ready to go in?” he asks.
“Sure.” I reel in my line and stick my pole with Tucker’s at the bottom of the boat. He starts the motor, and in a few minutes we’re gliding over the water toward the dock. Neither of us says anything, but he suddenly sighs. He slows the boat to a crawl, then stops us. We’re right in the middle of the lake, the motor idling, the sun sinking behind the mountains.
“I don’t want to leave,” he says after a minute.
I look up at him, startled. “You don’t want to leave?”
He gestures around, at the towering blue mountains behind us, the gray heron skimming the water, the glimmers of the sinking sun on the lake. “This is it for me. This is
Similar Books
