Page 124 of Watch Me Burn
Does it have to do with what we spoke about earlier?
Me
No. But I also have an update on that I can share.
Luna
Really?? You’ll share the info you have willingly?
Me
I’m trying, Luna. Give me some fucking credit, will you?
I cringe as soon as I hit send. Snapping at her is going to get me permanent banishment from the sanctuary. It's another several minutes of my holding my breath before her reply comes through.
Luna
Okay, Mr. Cranky Pants. You can come by after dinner. 7 PM.
The relief that floods through me is embarrassing in its intensity, almost as strong as the surprise. She’s extending an olive branch. One I don’t deserve, but I’ll take it. I’ll take anything she gives me.
Me
See you then, little doe.
I wait to see how or if she’ll reply. She didn’t like the nickname at the beginning, but she doesn’t seem to mind it anymore. She hasn’t told me not to call her that in a while. When her reply comes, it goes straight to my cock.
Luna
Until tonight, wolf(e).
Fuck! This woman is going to be the fucking death of me. And I wouldn’t have her any other way.
I set my phone down, already planning how I’ll make her my dessert.
I spend the rest of the day distracted, watching her on the cameras, anticipating seeing her. The way she moves through her sanctuary, checking on each animal with that gentle touch of hers, is hypnotic. Every gesture, every soft word she speaks, feeds my obsession. At six, I step away from the monitors and take Athena for a walk around the property.
“I might not be home tonight, girl, if I can get Luna to let me spread her out on her table. You think I’ve got a chance?”
Athena gives me a whuff that I swear says “fat chance, buddy” in dog speak. Smart animal. She knows I fucked up with Luna. But I’m willing to be optimistic. Or at least desperate enough to try. I’ve never been more desperate for anything in my life.
“You be a good girl.” I give her one last scratch around her ears. “And maybe I can take you to see her tomorrow.”
Yes, that’s perfect. Luna said Athena was always welcome. That’s my excuse to visit her while technically respecting the boundaries and distance she’s asked for. She won’t punish Athena for my mistakes. That’s not how she operates.
The space she’s asked for feels like a chasm between us. I need to bridge it, and I’m not above using Athena. But I need something else too.
Flowers.
That’s what you bring when you’re trying to apologize, right? If I’m going to grovel, something I’ve never done for anyone in my forty-six years, I should at least do it right.
The drive to Estes Park takes me through winding mountain roads, the familiar scenery making the drive pass in no time.
The florist shop is a quaint little place tucked between a coffee shop and an art gallery, its window display featuring winter arrangements. White poinsettias, frosted pinecones, and wreaths wrapped in red velvet ribbon. I pull up just as an elderly woman flips the sign to “Closed.”
I’m out of the car before she can lock the door. She looks up through the glass, takes in my expression and whatever desperation is written there, and her features soften. The lock clicks, and she opens the door.
“We’re closed, but you look like a man with an emergency.”
