Frost was on his way back from a run to the store the some days later when he found himself needing to turn left. More intrigued than annoyed, he turned left. And followed the road for awhile, before feeling a need to turn right. He meandered this way for 10 minutes before finding himself rolling to a stop in front of a modest home up on the bench with the wooded mountainside at it’s back. Who lived here? Was this Amber’s house? The mailbox had no name, only a house number. Reaching the door he caught himself short of trying the handle. Why would he fully intend to walk in to a strange house?

Holding himself down, Frost knocked. And waited, the desire to continue inside undissipated. A few minutes and the door opened to reveal a man, a little shorter than himself, on the thin side with close-cropped dark hair and brown eyes. Around his 30s he’d guess.

“Frederick!”

The adult’s eyes popped wide at the same time he said the name. Huh.

“Um,” well, this was awkward. Especially since with the door open he really wanted to push past the man. Still no idea why. “You have me at a disadvantage.” Didn’t strangers always knock on doors? I mean, who would be so pedestrian as to knock at a house where they knew the occupant’s name? Sure, Frost. And maybe you’ll quit talking to yourself in your spare time.

“Then how-“ The man cut himself off with a nod. “Right. My name is Eric Dawn,” Eric extended a hand. “Pleasure to meet you. I take it you’d like to come in?” He stepped back with a welcoming gesture.

“Uh,” yes, yes I would like to come in thank you very much. Would you mind telling me… Hey, why not just ask? “You wouldn’t happen to know why?”

Mr. Dawn gave him a half-smile as Frost stepped past. The front room was a welcoming little living room, a comfortable looking couch along the inside wall, and a couple quality recliners. The entry hall branched twice more further in before becoming a set of stairs going up. Where Frost very clearly wanted to go. He made himself stop just inside, looking at Mr. Dawn.

“I can guess. I think, however, she wouldn’t appreciate the reminder just now. Can you wait in the living room?”

Mr. Dawn looked him in the eye. Frost felt naked, like this man knew exactly what he was feeling right now, and why. Could he wait? So far he’d just been following the pull at his insides. No time like the present. Fighting down a pang of longing that reached impossible depths of his heart, Frost turned from the stairs. He made it to the couch, falling as much as sitting down as he pulled his own feet out from under himself before they could betray him.

Mr. Dawn, who’d watched the entire procedure in silence met his gaze again. Smiled, with a nod of satisfaction.

“Well done. Would you like something to drink?”

“Sure. Water’s fine.” Frost kept his feet extended in front of him. The need to be upstairs was like an itch in his brain. It was only by main force that he didn’t scream or demand answers. Mr. Dawn made his way back into the room, carrying two glasses and coasters. He offered one to Frost, taking the other himself as he sat down in one of the other chairs facing him.

“I suppose a bit more explanation would be appreciated.”

“A little.” Frost didn’t mean to be curt, but the itch to go up was frustrating.

“Are you still not sure who I am?”

“Sir,” Frost spoke slowly so as not to bark, “we haven’t met before today. Why would I-“

“Sorry, Frost,” Mr. Dawn held up a placating hand. “I am Amber’s father. To answer your next question, she is in her room. Upstairs.”

“Oh.” Dawn! How did he not make that connection? Frost ducked his head sheepishly. That certainly explained a few things. “So why am I here now?”

“Because she wants you to be. Well,” he looked at his glass uncomfortably, “hmm. She does. But also doesn’t.”

“Sir,” Frost found with attention to what the man was saying he could focus past the itch a little better, “could you explain a little more, completely? You’re using English but I’m not understanding.”

Mr. Dawn rolled his glass between his hands. Set it down, picked it back up. Looked back up at Frost with an expulsion of breath.

“I’m afraid I’ve been stalling, son.” He looked acutely uncomfortable. “I assume you noticed the mark on your chest by now.”

Mr. Dawn had Frost’s full attention. If he knew anything about that…

“She put it there. It’s… Well,” He looked away again. “You’re…”

“Sir, just tell it straight.”

“Right, of course.”

Frost clenched a fist to keep the frustration from his face as Mr. Dawn took a long drink, set his glass down. And fixed his gaze on Frost’s feet. Let out another heavy breath.

“She- you’re hers, now.”

“Pardon?”

“I… It’s a link. You to her. A brand as well,” he winced, “I understand.”

“So she did do this?” he touched the spot.

“Yes,” Mr. Dawn winced. “It is her mark. She isn’t happy about it.”

“Why would she do that?” Seriously. She’d barely interacted with him, even at the dance. At least that he remembered. Hadn’t even spoken to him before then. Nor since.

“Ah,” Mr. Dawn smiled lop-sidedly. “That’s harder to explain.” He glanced at the ceiling. “I don’t think she’d want me to-“

“Mr. Dawn,” No, no. He was not going to dodge now. Not when Frost might be able to understand what was going on. Here was a chance at seeing the whole puzzle. “If-“

“Dad, who are you talking,” Amber came around the corner, stopped as her eyes found Frost. “To.”

“Amber,” Mr. Dawn stood. “Frost here came by to check on you.”

There was clearly more to this family dynamic than he’d first suspected. Frost watched the two of them carefully, noting with some relief that the itch in his brain was all but gone now.

“Maybe.”

Frost slow-blinked as her response hit his ears. There was pain, annoyance, a touch of fear, a sliver of hope and expectation along with something he couldn’t identify in that one word. How could he possibly have heard all that? Why did he feel so much of so many emotions whenever he was around her? Frost definitely needed to talk to Jess, especially as Amber’s father had apparently given him all he was going to.

“Forgive me, Amber.” He dipped his head. “I had not meant to intrude unannounced.” Not that it was his intent to intrude at all. Sort of?

“Well,” crossing arms, the girl pursed her lips at him, “you see me. I’m fine. Now you can go.”

“Amber,” her father cautioned.

Frost didn’t hear her father’s censure. As Amber spoke, Frost found himself caught between impulses. He very much wanted to leave as she’d asked. But he also very much wanted to wrap Amber in a hug. He couldn’t possibly do both, so did neither. It was not a pleasant experience.

“Fine!” Amber threw up her hands. “Stay. Have dinner! See if I care!”

Quite without his say, Frost crossed the room as Amber turned to stalk off. His arms went around her middle, pulling her in to attempt a comforting embrace. In the moment, the need to do so over-rode the mix of other signals.

“I,” Amber jerked free, “did not tell you to touch me.”

Yes, she had. There were tears in her eyes as she turned on him. Frost couldn’t get words past his sudden emotion. It felt like every time he’d ever been rejected or told no in his young life all rolled into one. He could feel tears start. His rational mind went ballistic. Why was he crying? What was he crying about? He hadn’t cried in ten years, certainly not over someone else’ teenage angst. Yet the ludicrousness did not a whit to reduce his feeling.

“Oh Frost.”

Hands touched his cheeks. They sent a warm tingle through his system. What was happening to him? Frost couldn’t even speak to ask.

“Please,” the pain and need in her voice mirrored his feelings, “you need to,” she choked and swallowed. “To stay away from me.”

He would not say yes. Frost did not care that his tongue was forming the sound or his lips trying to part to do so as he stepped back involuntarily. If there was one thing Frost understood in that moment, it was that he dare not agree with that statement. Confirming her guilt, however deserved, would only add to her pain. And if his growing grasp of the situation was accurate, that for both of them.

“I’ll be going,” Frost announced to the room. He had no idea where her father was. “Thank you for inviting me in.” By main force to do no more nor less, Frost set hands on Amber’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. This time she did not meet his gaze. “I’ll see you Monday.”

It was easier to go one of the directions he wanted, once he started. He could feel Amber’s eyes on him all the way to the car. Driving away was a little harder, the desire to be back holding her vibrating in his bones. He gritted his teeth and pulled away.