Page 61 of Burn for Me

“Just go get ready, little devil.” I force a grin, hoping that the woman who unexpectedly saved me from the world didn't just burn mine to the ground.

Twenty-One

9-2-2024

I’ll lose him.

-Jasmine

I seriously didn’t think Sam would bring us out here. I figured he’d laugh off my idea and take us to a slaughterhouse instead. Honestly, I'm glad he didn’t, especially since he looked like he could turn me into a filet mignon this morning.

After getting ready, we headed to this quirky little store famous for its amazing coffee. The girl behind the counter had the cutest smile, and I tried to strike up a conversation, but Sam just sat there quietly, staring out the window. Even on our longdrive, he didn’t call our bosses or turn up the music. Eventually, I gave up trying to talk; my throat was killing me anyway.

After what happened last night, I have no idea what to expect now. Maybe he regrets everything, or he just needs time to process things.

I tilt my head back and take a deep breath to calm my racing thoughts. Everything has to be okay, right? I just need to figure him out and all his little quirks so I can handle stuff like this better next time. It would be great if I could catch a problem before it blows up because this side of him really makes my stomach turn.

Once again, he clears his throat as if he's allergic to the fresh air, so I take the opportunity to glance at him. He’s wearing a black polo shirt tucked into black slacks, and the rubies in his ring shimmer each time his hand sways in my grasp. The grin he showed me this morning when I realized it was the first time I had genuinely held him is nowhere to be found. I look back at the pathway.

It’s a stunning day, with the sun shining brightly and a gentle warmth in the air that allows me to comfortably wear a loose red blouse flowing lightly with every breeze and a tailored black pencil skirt that hugs my figure just right. I opted for sandals instead of the usual heels, and I’m thankful for that choice; the soft soles make my walk along the path much more pleasant.

As we stroll, my gaze is drawn toward a majestic oak tree that rises at the curve of the walkway. Its thick trunk and sprawling branches offer a generous canopy of shade. The tree’s leaves rustle softly in the wind, creating a soothing sound. Beside it, a small pond glimmers in the sunlight, its surface reflecting the azure sky and surrounded by lush greenery.

Sam tries to keep walking, but I stop beside the tree, and his body pulls back when I abruptly stop.

“We don’t have to walk so many miles today.” I attempt to joke, but he doesn’t smile. Instead, he glances at the tree and lets go of my hand. I chew on my bottom lip as he sits down, raising one knee to rest his arm on and motioning with the other for me to join him.

“You’re tense,” I whisper as he pulls me into his chest. I breathe in his comforting scent, letting it ease my anxiety.

Last night felt like a safe bubble, but today, it has popped. My stomach churns again.

“Sam?”

He rubs his hand over the scruff of his jaw while watching the fountain in the middle of the pond spray. He remains silent, so I look away.

“Do you ever want kids?” he nearly whispers, returning my attention to his features. He isn’t watching the water; he’s watching two boys flying a kite high in the air while their father chases them.

“Well…” I begin quietly, then look back at him. Is this a deal breaker or something?Hold on, don’t get distracted.

“I can’t have them. That’s why I’m asking… Training.” he says simply as if it’s not a big deal. My heart clenches, but at the same time, it swells because this isn’t just some light topic; it’s one he’s discussing withme.

“I’d rather have a cat or a fish anyway,” I smile. I’ve never really wanted kids. They terrify me—not the idea of a little human in general, but what they can become if I make one wrong move. I think I’d prefer to be a fun aunt or something.

“We can adopt one day if you change your mind, or maybe you’ll find one of those women who can pop one out for you.”

“Surrogate.” I laugh, and the tension in my shoulders eases, finding humor in how he describes childbirth. However, it quickly returns when I realize he’s not genuinely engaged inthe conversation. It’s as if he’s just looking for a distraction—anything to escape the voices in his head.

“You said you didn’t sleep well?” I mutter quietly, flattening my hand against my skirt.

“Yeah. I watched you sleep for a bit.”

I scrunch my nose at him.What a weirdo.

“Then, when morning broke, I made our breakfast and decided to go over the information we gathered last night.” This time, his voice is a bit strained.

“Thank you for the food. If I had known you had—”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

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