Page 40 of Chasing the Flame
I trudge out of the kitchen and across the hall to the den. Leather couches, faded brown and cracked, rest in the center of the room. I run my hands across the leather, my fingers grazing the top of it. Something about the old couches brings a smile to my face, maybe it’s because I can tell it’s been well loved. I get comfortable, letting my eyes wander the room. There’s a fireplace to my right; its mantle is bare save for two photographs.
The first one is a photo of Elliot with a beautiful brunette. She has blue eyes and a bright smile, and the two practically glow together. Elliot looks younger here, and I imagine this is one of the last photos Jettson has of his mother.
The second photo stops me in my tracks. It’s of a young woman with golden hair and familiar hazel eyes. Recognition strikes in my gut, and I realize this must be the girl Jettson was dating in his twenties.She’s stunning, with high cheekbones and a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
Before I can examine it further, Jettson comes into the living room, holding two cups of what looks like fresh coffee. “I wasn’t sure how you took your coffee, but I had a feeling you might like it sickly sweet.”
I take the cup from his outstretched hand, “Thank you, you guessed correctly.” I give him a soft smile and blow on the steaming mug. A nutty aroma wafts toward me, and I catch undertones of caramel.
The first sip is heaven incarnate. The second sip hits my tastebuds, and I’m convinced my soul has exited my body. “Damn,” I mutter.
“Good, right?” Jettson asks, grinning like an idiot. “It’s not something you’ll find in the grocery store. I order it from a website owned and operated by veterans.”
“Wow, really? It’s delicious, you’ll have to send me a link to the website.” I take another sip of the coffee, cursing when I spill a little on my white top. “And this would be why I don’t normally wear white.”
Jettson chuckles, shaking his head at my clumsiness. He rises from his seat and disappears into the kitchen, only to return with a wet washcloth. “Here, use this to get some of it out. I’ll grab you a clean shirt and spray that with some cleaner once we’re done here.”
“You don’t have to do that, it’s unnecessary,” I say, shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders. “Besides, I would rather know what happened last night.” My cheeks sting, heat flooding through me in embarrassment.
“I don’t mind,” he says, striding out of the room before I have time to object again. He returns a few moments later with a clean black shirt, and my cheeks flush again for an entirely different reason. “Bathroom is down the hall, just leave yours on the doorknob and I’llmake sure I get it. Your phone is charging on the kitchen counter, by the way.”
Nodding my thanks, I nervously cross my chest and hug the shirt as I walk down the hall. The bathroom door is ajar, and golden shimmers of light spill into the hall. Taking a deep breath, I shut the door behind me with a soft click.
I groan, sliding a hand down my face. This is fucking embarrassing. Last night, when I chose this top, I thought of comfort. There’s a built-in bra, one that holds the girls in surprisingly well. Now? Well, that doesn’t do me a damn bit of good knowing I’ll have to walk out of here without it.
“Get over it,” I grumble in the mirror, taking a final steadying breath. Ripping off the crop top, I yank it over my head and quickly put it on the doorknob before I change my mind.
I slide Jettson’s shirt over my head and tuck the excess into the waistband of my jeans. It’s not amazing, but it gets the job done. I take an extra minute or two to run my fingers through my messy hair, trying to bring some semblance of order back to the equation.
It’s no use. My hair seriously needs a good brushing. Pushing the strands off my shoulder, I saunter out of the bathroom and down the hall toward the kitchen. My phone is precisely where he said it would be, and I’m grateful to find it fully charged. I frown when the screen lights up, and see no missed calls or texts. Opening my phone, I scan my texts and calls, then it hits me like a tidal wave.
It all comes flooding back, and I remember everything. The burning pain, the white scorching light, all of it. What in the world is happening to me?
Panic claws at my insides, twisting and turning in a vicious cycle. Jettson must have a radar or something that zones him in on my panicattacks. His scent surrounds me before I see him, his hands resting on my shoulders. “It’s all going to be okay, just breathe, Averie.”
And I do. I breathe until my heart rate returns to normal, and I no longer shake violently. “What’s happening to me?” I meet his gaze, uncertainty flooding me, but I must know.
“Well, if I had to take a guess, it seems like you have some magic inside you that’s waking up. That’s why I asked about your heritage.” Jettson’s gaze travels lower, and I see the exact moment he realizes I’m not wearing a bra.
His lips part, his jaw clenching as his gaze darkens to a smoldering intensity that leaves me breathless. I thought I would feel self-conscious, but I don’t. I feel powerful…desirable…wanted.
Something about how he looks at me makes my toes curl deliciously. It makes me bolder, and I try to close the distance between us. Jettson takes a step back, and I’m instantly crushed. “I want to help you figure this all out. We need to do so for your safety and everyone else around you. I feel your magic has lain dormant for so long now…it’s coming out in bursts.”
“Wait. What?!” I squeak, staring at him in utter disbelief.
He shuffles a little, sighing before motioning me to follow him. He turns from the kitchen and enters the backyard, his footsteps soft against the deck's wood. I warily follow behind him.
Jettson heads down the steps and across the yard, heading toward the path we took last night. In the daylight, it looks beautiful. Sunlight dapples through the leaves, casting an ethereal glow on the setting.
In no time at all, we’re back to his spot. The water is quiet this morning, rippling gently across the lake. At first, I didn’t understand why he brought me back here. Then, Jettson moves and stands by the fire pit, and the slight shift allows me to see the whole picture.
Burned patches of grass litter the ground, and as I move forward and stand in the center, they form a perfect ring around my entire body.
“Last night, fire erupted from you,” Jettson says, raking a hand through his hair. “It nearly set me up in flames, no pun intended.” He chuckles a little, bending down to look at the ground.
I’m still in disbelief, and can’t seem to form a coherent thought. This can’t be right. “Jettson…” I trail off, trying to find the words to express my feelings, but nothing comes.
A few seconds pass, my heart thundering in my chest. A wave of dizziness comes over me, and as the panic rises, I feel a familiar surge in my veins. “Averie, I’m going to need you to breathe.”
