Clarity

  With a sly smile, I move back over to the door. I feel around for the mail slot and lift the metal flap, sliding the book through the opening. “Here you go,” I tell him. “A special autograph just for you.”

  “Thank you!” he says with enthusiasm, reaching to take the book from me.

  His fingertips brush against mine, and I jerk my hand away hastily. I stumble backward and collide with my desk. Clutching the hand that he had barely grazed, I feel my fingers to see if they have been somehow burned or scalded. I hold my breath, pressing my stinging fingers against my stomach. It feels like they are on fire.

  I have not touched another human being in over three years. It’s unsettling.

  Having read the inscription, Liam laughs lightly. “Wow! Thanks, Winter—uh, I mean Helen! Sorry, I didn’t mean to call you by your pseudonym.”

  “Act—actually,” I say haltingly, as I try to ignore the odd sensation in my fingers, “that’s my name now. I legally changed it to Winter Rose.”

  “Well, it is very pretty,” he responds, “but I think Helen has a certain charm, too. Why did you change it?”

  Pulling my lips into a grim line, I display distaste—even though he cannot see my expression through the door. “I just... I couldn’t be Helen anymore. I didn’t like her.”

  There is a silence. I begin to feel a bit stupid for saying something so personal.

  Liam moves to sit outside my door, and I hear his back thump gently against the wood. When he speaks again, his words are soft and serious. “It would be a great help if you could assist me in my research study. I really think you’re an excellent candidate.”

  I hesitate before responding. “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  “It will. I promise that it will be worth the risk,” he assures me.

  “Can you give me a little more information?” I ask him softly.

  “Maybe if you let me in. It’s fucking cold out here.”

  I bite down on my lip as I consider this. Immediately, I feel self-conscious. “Uh, I’m not sure how tidy it is in here. I wasn’t expecting visitors, and cleaning can be difficult.”

  “I don’t care,” he responds. “Heck, I’ll tidy up for you! Just let me in, Winter. I promise you won’t regret it.”

  I take a deep breath. Remembering how lost I felt before, when he walked away and I thought the opportunity was gone forever, I step forward boldly. I reach out and touch my doorknob, tracing the lock with my fingertip. “I’ll let you in,” I tell him, “but you have to do something for me in return.”

  “Sure!” he says instantly. “Whatever you need.”

  I smile deviously. My fingers turn the lock, and for the first time in three years, I open the door to a stranger.

  Chapter Three