Beyond the Broken Angel

CHAPTER FOUR

— the angel —

ALL SIGNS OF boyishness were gone from Will, his face and body hardened by masculinity. He was dreadfully handsome, with hooded eyes and dark eyebrows, symmetrical features, a strong, square jaw and a straight nose.

Giselle's gaze soon drifted off. He had an athletic physique, his muscles apparent under the white button-up and brown vest he wore with matching brown pants.

"Why are neither of you speaking?" Frank asked after a considerably long stretch of silence had passed.

"Uh, Hello, Miss Saunders," Will said at last, quickly averting his gaze. There was something about the way he formally said her name that agitated her, but also warmed her. He remembers my name.

"Hello, Will," she replied back, avoiding the formality in defiance.

He glanced back at her, his eyes slightly narrowed before he called out to his brother, "Frankie, could you go get more wood from the stack outside?"

Frank frowned. "But why?" He looked to the storage rack next to the stove, which was 3/4 of the way full of wood. "We still have enough to last a while."

"Don't argue with me," Will said with all the authority of a parent. "Now, go."

Frank dipped his head in obedience and left, the interaction souring Giselle's mood.

"You didn't have to speak to him so rudely," she said matter-of-factly.

"I'm his guardian, I may speak to him however I choose," Will said casually.

"Just because you can doesn't mean you should," Giselle countered, the teakettle's hiss steadily rising in pitch. Will took it off of the stovetop before it could get any louder, bringing it over to the teacups.

"Well, maybe you should keep your opinion to yourself," he shot back, pouring the hot water into the tea pot.

"But I love expressing my opinion." Giselle smiled bitterly at him. "Especially towards those that hate hearing my opinions."

Will groaned, setting the kettle down on a damp rag before turning to her. "Look," he breathed, testing out a softer tone, "I need you to answer something for me." He looked down at the tiled floor, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter as his dark eyebrows pulled low in thought.

He suddenly pushed off the counter and crossed the room, coming to take a seat in front of her at the table. Even when he was sitting, he still took a while to finally speak, his eyes latching onto hers when he did. "How did you disappear like that?"

Giselle frowned, her petty mood slowly fading. The word disappear poked at her brain strangely. "Huh?"

"Don't play with me. Seven years ago I saw you disappear into thin air. How did you do it?" The desperate intensity in his eyes alarmed her. It looked like he needed the answer more than he wanted it. 

"Uh, I really don't understand what you're talking about," she informed him. "What exactly did you see?"

"After you ran off that day—when we spoke about the crash—I followed you," he started off. "I wanted to apologize for my behavior, but I wasn't able to reach you because as soon as you touched that tree, you vanished without a trace. And then—and then a flock of birds flew out of the tree immediately after."

He shook his head, looking out of the window to his left. "It's been plaguing me for years now, and I can't decide which of my theories is the most plausible. I've been waiting for you to come back so that I can ask you," he looked back to her, "but now I see that you think I'm as crazy as I do."