Read Online The Fireside Inn by Lily Everett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lily Everett
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plane tickets home over the alternative. At least I grew up knowing I was loved. Oh, I hope I never meet your parents. I’d want to slap them silly for not telling you, every single day, how amazing and special and loveable you are.”
Leo stared at the passion lighting Serena’s elfin features. “I’ve only seen you like this when talking about your library and how important it is to the community. And your books.”
A hot pink blush stained her cheeks, but Serena didn’t back down. If anything, she became more impassioned. “And that’s another thing! I know love is real because all those writers and poets can’t be wrong. When I read about two people falling love, the truth of that resonates inside me—even if I haven’t experienced that kind of romantic love personally. I know it exists. You have to know it, too. Haven’t you been listening to the things we’ve read this week?”
Serena brandished the book she’d been holding, and it fell open. She scanned a couple of lines quickly, her breath fast and light. “I mean, come on. Look at this.”
Hooking her finger into the spine to hold the place, she turned the spread pages to face Leo. His gaze snapped from the incomprehensible jumble of black letters floating around the page to Serena’s pleading expression. His heart jumped into his throat and expanded, choking him.
It was his worst nightmare, come to life. He couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. The silence stretched horribly.
“I’m serious,” Serena insisted, shoving the book closer to him. “Read this line! Right here. How can you read this and not believe in love?”
***
Serena waited impatiently for Leo’s silvery gray eyes to dart across the immortal e.e. cummings poem, already savoring the sound of his deep cultured tones smoothly telling her he carried her heart within his heart.
After knowing Leo for only a handful of days, it was ridiculous how much she longed to hear him say those words to her, even if he were only speaking the words of a long-dead poet, not making a declaration of his own. Everything inside Serena rebelled at the way Leo was dismissing the entire concept of love. She had to hear him take it back.
But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. After a single, agonized glance, he didn’t even look at the book in her hands. Frustrated, Serena shook the book until the pages rustled. “Hello? Anyone in there?”
When he finally spoke, his voice was as rusty as the inside of an antique watering can. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
I want to know I’m not alone with all these feelings and desires
, Serena wanted to cry.
I want to know you’re falling, too
.
Gathering her composure, she gently laid the open book in Leo’s lap. “I want to hear you read that poem. Not even the whole thing, just the last stanza—and then tell me you don’t have a clue what the poet is talking about.”
If Leo could do that, if he could honestly look her in the eye and deny the existence of love when it stared him in the face, Serena might stand a chance at being cured of this doomed infatuation.
Leo flexed one strong, long-fingered hand before resting it on the open page. She heard the dry harsh rasp of his breath, even over the crackle and whoosh of the flames in the hearth. Bending over the book, Leo stared down at the poem for an endless moment, lips moving silently. Serena waited, pulse fluttering, for Leo to start reading.
Suspended in breathless anticipation, Serena wasn’t prepared for the shock of Leo standing up from the couch in a rush of contained power. The book slid from his lap to the floor with a bang that made Serena wince for the state of the cover, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Leo to check it.
He strode stiff-legged to the mantel and gripped it with white-knuckled hands. Every line of Leo’s body thrummed with tension like a plucked violin string as he leaned forward to stare into the roaring fire. “I can’t do what you want,”
Leo stared at the passion lighting Serena’s elfin features. “I’ve only seen you like this when talking about your library and how important it is to the community. And your books.”
A hot pink blush stained her cheeks, but Serena didn’t back down. If anything, she became more impassioned. “And that’s another thing! I know love is real because all those writers and poets can’t be wrong. When I read about two people falling love, the truth of that resonates inside me—even if I haven’t experienced that kind of romantic love personally. I know it exists. You have to know it, too. Haven’t you been listening to the things we’ve read this week?”
Serena brandished the book she’d been holding, and it fell open. She scanned a couple of lines quickly, her breath fast and light. “I mean, come on. Look at this.”
Hooking her finger into the spine to hold the place, she turned the spread pages to face Leo. His gaze snapped from the incomprehensible jumble of black letters floating around the page to Serena’s pleading expression. His heart jumped into his throat and expanded, choking him.
It was his worst nightmare, come to life. He couldn’t move, couldn’t make a sound. The silence stretched horribly.
“I’m serious,” Serena insisted, shoving the book closer to him. “Read this line! Right here. How can you read this and not believe in love?”
***
Serena waited impatiently for Leo’s silvery gray eyes to dart across the immortal e.e. cummings poem, already savoring the sound of his deep cultured tones smoothly telling her he carried her heart within his heart.
After knowing Leo for only a handful of days, it was ridiculous how much she longed to hear him say those words to her, even if he were only speaking the words of a long-dead poet, not making a declaration of his own. Everything inside Serena rebelled at the way Leo was dismissing the entire concept of love. She had to hear him take it back.
But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything. After a single, agonized glance, he didn’t even look at the book in her hands. Frustrated, Serena shook the book until the pages rustled. “Hello? Anyone in there?”
When he finally spoke, his voice was as rusty as the inside of an antique watering can. “I don’t know what you want from me.”
I want to know I’m not alone with all these feelings and desires
, Serena wanted to cry.
I want to know you’re falling, too
.
Gathering her composure, she gently laid the open book in Leo’s lap. “I want to hear you read that poem. Not even the whole thing, just the last stanza—and then tell me you don’t have a clue what the poet is talking about.”
If Leo could do that, if he could honestly look her in the eye and deny the existence of love when it stared him in the face, Serena might stand a chance at being cured of this doomed infatuation.
Leo flexed one strong, long-fingered hand before resting it on the open page. She heard the dry harsh rasp of his breath, even over the crackle and whoosh of the flames in the hearth. Bending over the book, Leo stared down at the poem for an endless moment, lips moving silently. Serena waited, pulse fluttering, for Leo to start reading.
Suspended in breathless anticipation, Serena wasn’t prepared for the shock of Leo standing up from the couch in a rush of contained power. The book slid from his lap to the floor with a bang that made Serena wince for the state of the cover, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Leo to check it.
He strode stiff-legged to the mantel and gripped it with white-knuckled hands. Every line of Leo’s body thrummed with tension like a plucked violin string as he leaned forward to stare into the roaring fire. “I can’t do what you want,”
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