Page 36 of Feverburn

“I know,”she whispered again.

Her body relaxed, and tiny snores escaped her after a few moments. I needed to head home, even if I had to drive back in a matter of hours for work. Someone could’ve seen me walk her into the store only never to exit, then put two and two together. Staying was sostupidanddangerous. But with her in my arms, I fell into a deep sleep before I could fight it.

A dream barreled into my mind, feeling a little too familiar. It was the dreamtalking one from the night Rosie sent me the tub selfie. Like last time, the three scenesplayedout before me. Starting with me gazing up at her beautiful face from between her legs, then the sight of her pumping my cock with her delicate tattooed fingers, and finally, her hair strewn like flames across my chest as we held each other panting in ecstasy.

The sounds of our inhalations morphed into the crackle of the fire that popped and spat as flames erupted around us. Something burnt and acridstungmy nose as ablazingheat surrounded my body. It was too hot yet indirect, like when you hover your hand above a stove. Along with the warmth, the sensation of sinking overtook my body.

The crackles morphed into screaming. Endless cries rang, never pausing for breath. I peered down at Rosie in my arms. Her hair was now scarlet flames, whipping my skin in feverish lashes, her eyes glazed white in unseeingterror. Her mouth slacked with gurgling noises of pain as she clawed at my chest, trying tofreeherself from my arms while sinking with me. Bloody tears poured from her eyes, etching on her skin that cracked like the desert floor, disintegrating into powder as flames erupted, consuming her body while wailing pounded my ears.

The screams were coming from me, both in the dream and as I woke up in the loft beside her.

It was then I realized I couldn’tloveRosie.

Not now.

Not ever.

Chapter Fifteen

I had the granddaddy of all hangovers when I woke up. I winced at the sunlight and immediately flopped over. I had a fuzzy memory of Carson screaming in the bed next to me during the night, but I figured it was a drunken dream. I recalled he got me home safe but wouldn’tkissme and how I spilled mygutsabout wanting to date him. That made me wince for reasons other than my hangover.

I had been busy with work and getting closer to Kaylee and Azalea the past few weeks. He never came up, and they usually talked about Harley and Azalea’s friend Noah. It made me feel like an outsider. Kaylee would hint that I should date Dane, and I’d have to pretend to entertain the idea.

But Dane wasn’t the guy I’d daydream about when I was doing mundane tasks at work. It was Mr. Brooding Mountain Man. In his absence, I realized how much I cherished his presence. I deeply missed him.Hell, I even missed Kiszka. I battled the temptation to leave notes on his desk or orchestrate a damsel moment where I’d need his help fixing something in my loft to get him alone. Before I could, I’d talk myself out of it. I doubted he wanted to date me now that I had turned him down and acted so cagey. I wished I could’ve pushed through my fears when he asked me out. It was like wanting toscreambut not being able to. Trauma is tricky that way. It hangs around when you need it gone. It reminds you of what you’ve lived through each day, but not without a cost.

The truth is, I thought of Carson a lot. Over the past two weeks, I lived in this weird gray area of wanting to run into him while avoiding him at all costs. I had mastered Houdini stealth levels, sneaking in and out of the hardware store. One morning, I saw him running ahead of me on a trail, so I hung back to avoid him. I even turned down Kouris family dinner invites from Kaylee to give him space.

My mom visited a few days last week and stayed at a cute little place called Stonebriar Inn. Carson was in his office when I showed her my loft, and I couldn’t help but notice how polite he was. He stood to greet her and shook her hand. She got him to talk, and watching him answer some of her questions about the town’s history was captivating. Once inprivate, she gushed about how handsome and respectful he was. It made my feelings for him more complex.

When my mom wasn’t in town, we had a standing tradition called Witchy Wednesdays. We’d video chat while eating a similar dinner and talk about life and witchcraft. Slowly, earnestly, I was trying to patch my life back together after feeling so broken from Boston. I couldn’t tell anyone the extent of what happened there. It wouldn’t get me anywhere. It felt like a burden I should deal with alone. The recent blow of not dating Carson was one more thing to deal with in silence. But after last night, I was hopeful. His patience and the way he held me showed he still cared.

After trudging downstairs, a whiny Kiszka walked around me in circles. Carson rounded the corner of his office with a tortured look. I was confused when he hugged me because his energy was frigid, his silence deafening. I could tell something was off by the way he buried his face in the crook of my neck and sucked in a breath as if he was etching the moment in his mind.

I broke the embrace,“What’s wrong?”

“I care about you, Rosie.”He stepped back from me while he held my hands, rubbing my knuckles with his thumbs. His tone made my stomach drop.

“I care about you, Carson. I was—”

“We can’t do this.”

“This?”I asked.

“Us. We can’t do us. We can’t talk, flirt, anything.”He pulled his hands from mine, shoving them in his front pockets.

“Why?”

“Listen, I can’t be with you. It’s for thebest. You need to trust that.”

Chills ran all over my body, prickling along my temples. Kiszka’swetnose poked my thigh, low cries escaping him.“Why? I thought we agreed to try again last night. Did I say something—”

“We both knew this wasn’t right. We need to realize that before anyone gets hurt.”

I blinked back tears.“Too late.”

“I’m sorry.”His voice was flat like the line his lips formed. He shrugged in mastered indifference, finally weaponizing it against me like he did everyone else.

“It’s too late for sorry. You know things about me no one else does. I gave you access to me, like myheart, my story…my body.”

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