Page 2 of Feverburn

“I’ve heard enough. We’re over. Now leave me the fuck alone.” I pointed to the door, holding my breath until he left.

I only had five minutes to cry before returning to work. My hands kept trembling while I made drinks, occasionally burning myself. My coworkers kept side-eying me, and I had to work the whole day with Tyler’s kiss on my lips, his face in my mind.

After my shift, I found a dozen roses on the hood of my car, along with a note. Red roses for a woman named Rosie. Wow, groundbreaking. I snorted in disgust, looking at the frost on the petals from the nippy January air before plopping the bouquet on the car parked next to mine. Hopefully, they’d brighten someone else’s day. I swiped the note he wedged under my windshield wiper and used it to spit out my gum, taking away the temptation to read his lies.

When I got home, I took a hot shower to scour any remnants of him, made an appointment to get tested, and blocked him on all social media—the holy trinity of discovering you’ve been cheated on. Then I called my mom and ugly cried.

The next day, I drove to an empty field and shrieked until my throat hurt. Every night for a week, I curled up in bed, listening to that super depressing song from the New Moon soundtrack. You know, the one that plays when Bella sits in a chair for three months? It hurt just right. I needed it to hurt just right. Otherwise, it felt so wrong.

We had fun together in the seven months we dated as he wined and dined me. I was quickly impressed, and he knew it. We came from two different worlds. He was a lawyer raised by a wealthy family with a penchant for partying on yachts. And I was a tatted-up witchy woman raised by a single mom who loved rock concerts.

But nothing was too deep with him. I needed that after an intense chapter of my life. With Tyler, I was happy, if not a little bored. He respected my independent streak and never pushed into my life too much. I think that’s what hurt the most. After leaving him, I realized how little he asked about my life or tried to take part in it. I was only a fixture in his. It was a harsh truth only heartbreak and humiliation could clarify.

Everything happens for a reason, and I was about to find out.

Three weeks after the incident, Kaylee visited me at Rise-N-Grind. She apologized for her boisterous exit and ensured it didn’t jeopardize my job. Her actions earned my immediate respect. I couldn’t help but smile as she slid a vase of yellow roses across the table as part of her apology. I’d never received yellow roses. They seemed more wholesome than their vampy red counterparts. She made the vase herself, and on the bottom, she etched,the only prick you should tolerate is a thorn from a rose, which was all too fitting.

She told me that after the incident, she drove aimlessly to Maine and crashed her car in a remote part of the forest. Harley, a local forest ranger, rescued her and let her stay at his cabin during a blizzard. They fell in love, and the whole thing sounded like some Hallmark movie, but with Kaylee’s mouth and judging how they kept each other warm, it would be R-rated.

Now that she was back in Boston, I could tell she was dealing with heartache from missing Harley, not what Tyler did to her. We rehashed our sides of the story, realizing we were both duped. He told the truth about them never having sex, but she wasn’t an ex-girlfriend. She worked in the same building as him, and his firm placed a bet that if he ‘fucked the weird hippie chick across the hall,’ he’d rank up to junior associate. If that wasn’t disgusting enough, he stalked and threatened Kaylee, and when he showed up in Maine, he got physical with her, leading Harley to beat his ass to a bloody pulp. Knowing Tyler was capable of such violence terrified me, and once again, I was grateful he was plucked out of my life by fate.

After talking it over, Kaylee and I agreed to be friends. There was no use in hating each other, and we already had a connection. I still remember the first day she came into the coffee shop. She was friendly and a bit kooky, which I found instantly endearing. We bonded over jewelry, each identifying specific stones and crystals on each other in a silent dance of recognizing a fellow witchy woman. I always looked forward to hearing her podcast suggestions and having her try my newest coffee concoctions. Now we had this weird bond, a scorned sisterhood.

The next day, Kaylee called me while I took out the work garbage. Seeing myself on the video call made me cringe. I was grimy and exhausted, and she was damn near glowing as she bounced up and down with a huge grin.

“He found me!” she squealed.

“Huh?” Maybe ten hours of making lattes had steamed my brain cells.

“Harley! He found me!” She giggled, turning her phone around to show a handsome guy waving from her couch…shirtless.

“Well, hello, infamous Harley,” I fought a laugh and heard him say something that sounded like a hello before Kaylee turned the phone back to launch into how he tracked her down in Boston to proclaim his love for her. Hearing about a good man made a small chunk of my frozen heart melt. I guess they do exist.

“Do you want a change in scenery?” her bright voice yanked me from my moody musing.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I love Harley. I’m moving to Maine to be with him. There’s just one problem. The town of Pine Bluff doesn’t have any crystal or coffee shops.”

A smile spread across my face. “Well, we’re just going to have to fix that, aren’t we?”

The Ashes

Chapter One

The little mountain town of Pine Bluff looked like a damn postcard, but I felt like shit stepped in twice. I made the rookie mistake of staying up too late packing with the delusion that a cup of coffee, or four, would fix all my problems in the morning. Now, I had to deal with the reality of too much caffeine, not enough sleep, and good old-fashioned nerves.

My hands trembled as I held the steering wheel, turning on Main Street with the small U-Haul trailer hitched to the back of my ancient, black Toyota 4Runner. When I say ancient, I mean from 2003. Seeing a CD player in my car reminded me that I was a broke millennial with an impressive collection of Taco Bell napkins in the glove compartment. These details humbled me daily.

With it being April, Maine was still melting away its wintery slush, but that didn’t take away its beauty. Long rows of historical buildings lined each side, along with mature trees, creating a quintessential New England charm. The street was on a slight incline leading up to one of the mountains surrounding town.

To my right, I spotted our new shop between a bookstore and the post office. The storefront consisted of a sturdy wood door, arched display windows on either side, and our purple sign stating Silver Springs Coffee & Crystals.

Across the street from our shop was my new home, a loft above a hardware store owned by Harley’s family. It was a tall two-story building of tan bricks sprawling the corner lot. The front was pristine, with a sign brushed in red stating Kouris Hardware in giant letters. Taking a left, I went to the back parking lot framed with pine trees.

Harley’s sister, Frankie, was waiting for me. She was about my age, in her late twenties, and like her brother, she was tall with an olive complexion. Her dark curls piled on her head in a bun, and watercolor tattoos peeked out of her scrubs. She greeted me with polite small talk while opening the back door before leading me up a wide stairway that creaked with each step.

Six windows filled the entire wall facing us as we entered the loft. They arched at the top with black framing, letting in warm sunlight. The wall on the right was brick with a vintage mural reading Kouris & Sons Lumber and Hardware in faded white and red cursive. The wall to our left was also brick but gave way to a kitchen towards the other side of the unit, along with the bathroom.

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