HEIRLOOM
Harper
“SO . . . HAVE YOU TALKED TO MAX since the other day . . . ?” I ask as I slide a price label on the shelf of a Lancaster Distillery whiskey display. The tasting room still smells of fresh paint and lumber, a fine coating of plaster dust stubbornly adhering to the floor. But there are also lingering notes of disinfectant that waft through the open door. Since the on-site investigation had concluded last night, Lukas has been allowed back into the building, and this morning, it’s all-hands-on-deck to get back on track with the soft-launch reopening in a few weeks. It’s almost noon, and a specialized cleaning crew is still scrubbing the bloodstains off the concrete floor by the copper stills. “It kind of seemed like she wanted to talk.”
I don’t look over to see the glare I know Lukas is drilling into the side of my face. “No,” he says, “I have not.”
“Shame. I thought I was a very effective wingman. But you were a totally shit solo pilot.” I peek over at him as he unloads a box of bottles next to me.
His brow is furrowed, a muscle in his jaw feathering. When he doesn’t respond to my jab, I turn to face him. “You know, it’s not entirely unexpected that she’d show up in Cape Carnage again. Her family lives here, after all.
You didn’t seriously think you’d never run into her, did you?”
When he looks up at me, his eyes are haunted, and whatever irritation he tries to portray is entirely forced. “She hasn’t been back for like . . . five years. And she only used to come for Christmas before that. Why the fuck do you think I spend all day in the manor house for the week between Christmas and New Year’s?”
“I thought you just really really liked Hallmark movies.”
“What’s not to like?” he grumbles as he refocuses on the box. An adorable blush creeps into his cheeks, shifting the scales of my internal “Is Lukas a virgin?” debate to a resounding “yes.”
“Look,” I say, laying a palm on his arm to quiet the work of his hands, “whatever happened with you two, it was a long time ago. You’re different people now. She seems really nice, and you’re really nice—usually, except for the other day when you were kind of a dick—and you’re both living in Cape Carnage now. Plus, you know how it gets here when tourist season is over. You’ll see each other around all the time, like it or not. So why don’t you just talk? Go for coffee at the Bean. Craft a corpse together. Put water under the bridge so you can coexist.”
Lukas blows out a long breath through pursed lips and hangs his head.
“Ugh. You’re probably right.”
“I usually am,” I say as I dust off my shoulders.
“And I hate when you’re right—you’re smug as shit.”
“Thank you.” I give him a little curtsy. “That’s what I was aiming for.
You should text her right now.”
“You should get fucked.”
“That’s the spirit.” I grin and give his arm a gentle punch, then return to my work on the display.
“Speaking of getting fucked,” Lukas says, “I hear that Nolan guy is spending a lot of time at your place.”
It’s my turn to blush. I resist the desire to check my phone for a message from Nolan. I try to give Lukas a nonchalant shrug, but I’m sure he sees right through it. “Yeah. For now. But he’s got a whole other life in Tennessee, so . . . I dunno.” Even though I deliver those words with casual notes in my voice, I still feel their deep currents in the chambers of my heart. I can’t say I haven’t imagined both lives—the one waiting for him in Tennessee, and the one we could have together here.
The teasing light in Lukas’s eyes brightens when he straightens to his full
height and says, “Airplanes exist.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“Is it serious?”
“Why do you need to know?”
Lukas grins, relishing every moment of my discomfort. “I dunno. You’ve just been single for so long.”
I hold my hand out between us. “Hello, Black Pot. My name is Black Kettle.”
Lukas smacks my hand away and I laugh. “Fine,” he says, “don’t tell me all your relationship updates. I’ll get them from Irene. Just . . . ” Lukas captures my hand before it can fall back to my side. A car door closes in the distance, but my eyes don’t stray from the earnest expression Lukas levels at me. “I hope he’s good to you, that’s all. You’re the sister I never had. Dude is intense. He seems like the kind with a high body count or something. And by that I mean actual bodies.”
I guffaw a laugh. Lukas is so incredibly oblivious that I’m confident he doesn’t know just how accurate that really is, but it still sends a burst of adrenaline through my veins nonetheless. “Okay, sure,” I say, rolling my eyes. “I’ll take that under advisement, Lancaster.”
Three loud knocks come from the locked steel door of the reception hall, startling us both. Lukas lets go of my hand and we both head toward the lobby, where he opens the door to the brooding intensity of Nolan Rhodes.
“Hi” is all he says as Lukas whispers “intense” next to me so only I can hear.
“Hey,” I reply, pulling my phone from my pocket to check for a missed call or message from him, but there’s nothing. When I meet his eyes again, that wedge of walnut brown buried in the green of his left iris seems darker somehow. “Everything okay?”
Nolan gives Lukas a brief nod before focusing all his predatory attention on me.
“I’ll keep unloading the bottles. Take your time,” Lukas says before he heads back through the lobby and into the tasting room.
“What’s going on?” I ask, facing Nolan once more. “Did something come up with the search?”
Nolan barks a laugh, but there’s a crazed edge to it. When he runs a hand through his hair, I catch the subtle scent of the sea in the air. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately . . . ? Like, very privately.”
“Umm, sure. I know a place.” With a final glance over my shoulder, I take
his hand and let the door close quietly behind me. I start leading him outside, heading toward the grain shed. The search team is here for another day of scouring the grounds, and though they’ve already moved deeper into the woods that surround the property, I’ve decided to make an effort to avoid them for the next few days—even with my shorter hair, I’m not keen to test whether it makes me less recognizable to any Sleuthseekers who might show up. And I don’t want to take any chances out in the open when Nolan is so clearly not himself. “Is something wrong?”
His eyes slide toward the forest where searchers occasionally call out the names of the missing. “I’ll tell you in a minute.”
“Why didn’t you text me?”
“My phone is fucked,” he says. When I give Nolan a questioning look, his expression darkens.
“Right. You’ll tell me in a minute, I assume,” I reply, which earns me a single nod. We both glance at our surroundings as we near the grain shed door, Nolan keeping a lookout as I unlock the padlock. “How did you find me?”
“I have my ways.” My sidelong glance calls his bluff, and he rolls his eyes. “Fine. I checked the cottage first and then snuck into the manor house —”
“Nolan,” I hiss, pushing the door open to lead the way inside. It’s just as I left it the other day—discarded grain sacks on the floor, the desk with yellowing papers, the film of dust on the single-pane windows. “Arthur has two security cameras that he rarely checks. But if he thinks you stole his fucking Christina Riccis and sees you breaking in, he’ll cut your fingers off and feed them to you.”
“Nice. We’ll come back to that. Anyway, when I didn’t find you there, I thought I’d check with Lukas. And voilà.”
Nolan closes the door behind him, sealing us inside the shed. Dust motes swirl in the morning sun that filters into the room, the scent of the stale air bringing with it another whisper of the sea when he takes a step closer. The intensity radiating from him seems to vibrate along the invisible thread that ties us together. He looks like he wants to fuck me. Or kill me. And I’m not sure which one turns me on more.
“So,” I say, squaring my shoulders in an attempt to regain some control over the sudden swell of desire that spirals deep in my belly, “what the hell is going on—”
“I killed a Sleuthseeker,” he blurts out, his eyes glittering with a burst of excitement that he can’t hide.
I blink. Open my mouth. Close it again. Take a breath and try again. “You . . . what? Have you lost your mind?”
“No one saw me. And they already think it’s an accident.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because that’s what Yates said when he radioed that he’d be late to the search. ‘Some dumbass tourist got too close to the cliff edge and fell into the sea.’”
“Convenient,” I say, crossing my arms, my eyes narrowing. “And I’m guessing you’re the one who pushed him and made sure he didn’t come back up for air.” Nolan shrugs, and I’m not sure if I’m furious or insanely fucking envious. Or both. “You’re the one who said, ‘no more murder.’”
Nolan scratches at his stubble, and I’m 99 percent sure it’s a thinly veiled attempt to hide the dimple threatening to betray his excitement. And if I’m being honest with myself, that scares me. I’m suddenly worried the pressure of the search and the constant presence of Yates has eroded Nolan’s restraint.
But Nolan? He doesn’t seem too concerned about that. Not with the way a lopsided smile escapes his control.
“Yeah, well. It was the perfect opportunity to make it look like an accident. Couldn’t let it pass me by.” He takes a step closer, a hunter closing in on wounded prey. “Besides, I didn’t think you’d mourn the loss of another Sleuthseeker from this fucked-up world. And I’m sure it’ll keep the others occupied.”
“It was fucking risky. Especially right now,” I say.
“You sound like you might be a little bit jealous,” he parries back. I glare at him, my cheeks heating, and the cocky expression he gives me only brightens. “I thought we established that I like it when you’re jealous.”
Normally, I would stand my ground with Nolan, even as he creeps a step closer with murderous intensity written into his features. But this time, I take a step back. As soon as I do, a ravenous spark ignites in his eyes. “You could
have been hurt. You could have been seen.”
Nolan’s head tilts, his brow furrowing, though his smile remains. “I thought you would be happy about this. You’re usually the impetuous one—I thought you’d like that you’re wearing off on me.”
“I’m the impetuous one?” I take another step back, and Nolan matches it.
“How’d killing Jake Hornell go, by the way? Something makes me think you didn’t spend hours planning that one out.”
Nolan grins, as though the mention of Jake’s murder brings back a pleasant memory. “You’re right, I didn’t. And it was deeply satisfying.”
I step back into the shadows, and still Nolan follows, an echo to my every move. I can’t say I feel remorse for the murders I’ve committed, not when they seemed so just. So deserved. But the way Nolan looks at me now, I think he’s exhilarated by it. That he thrives on it. That he feeds off a fear he senses in me. And the realization cuts through me like a blade—that maybe it’s not only justice or revenge he’s after. Maybe he needs to satiate a craving that only grows with every kill.
And I’m not sure what it says about me that I find it not just frightening, but compelling.
Nolan’s smile has dissolved, leaving only heat and want and hunger behind as I back into a counter against the wall. He grips onto the wooden edge, caging me in. “If the chance to keep them away from you is right there in front of me, I’m going to fucking take it, Harper. I’ll gladly break every rule to do it.”
Nolan’s gaze settles on my lips as they part on an unsteady breath. It’s the first time I’ve truly understood the lengths he would go to for me, if I asked him to. Or even if I didn’t. He’d hunt anyone. Kill anyone. Torture anyone.
And he would enjoy it.
“You need to fuck me right this minute before I deck you and run for my life,” I say, my voice breathless.
Nolan’s hands find my wrists, gripping them tightly. His unwavering focus, his dark amusement, those cocky fucking dimples—I’m consumed by him, and he knows it. “It’s cute that you think you could get away.” He leans closer, until his lips trail a path up the length of my neck. Not a kiss, but a long, slow caress that sends a shiver up my spine. “Maybe I’ll let you run
someday,” he whispers in my ear, “just so I can chase you down.”
His hand leaves my wrist, his fingertips lightly grazing my thigh, coasting over my hip to find their way under my shirt. His featherlight touch tickles along the waistband of my shorts, skirting up my abdomen and tracing along the underside of my bra. He pulls the cup down and circles my nipple, sending a burst of need rippling through my core. “I’m not sure why you’re still wearing clothes if you’re so desperate to be fucked,” he says as his touch passes over the titanium bar through the peaked bud.
“Then maybe you should take them off for me. Or is that beneath you now that you’ve killed a man who might not have deserved it?”
My sharp tongue earns me an even sharper bite to the roaring pulse in my neck. “I like your shorter hair. Easier access,” Nolan whispers, soothing the bite with a kiss. “But I’m going to fuck you until the only thing that smart mouth of yours can say is my name.”
In a swift motion, he tugs my shirt over my head. Another breath later, my bra falls to the floor. I kick off my shoes just before Nolan lifts me from the counter, setting me down only long enough to pull off my shorts and panties, and then he plunks me back in place, my ass at the edge of the wooden ledge and my legs spread wide. The evidence of my desire is written on every inch of my skin—my glistening pussy, my peaked nipples. The gooseflesh that rises on my arms, the pulse thrumming in my neck. I couldn’t hide my desperate need for Nolan even if I wanted to.
Nolan reaches behind his head and pulls his shirt off, tossing it into the shadows. He loosens his belt. Unbuttons his pants. Pulls his jeans and briefs down. He spits in his hand and pumps his cock with long, slow strokes. “Are you afraid of me?”
Am I? I’m not sure that question is so easy to answer. I was when he first came to Cape Carnage. But there’s something about the danger lurking in him that calls to the darkness buried in me. Fear and desire have always been intertwined when it comes to Nolan. And it’s not physical pain I fear. He knows exactly how to deliver what I crave and where those limits are.
It’s how he could break my soul into irreparable pieces, ones that the sticky tar of violence and revenge could never put back together. That is what terrifies me about Nolan Rhodes.
“Maybe I’m afraid of you in the ways that matter,” I finally confess.
“But you like a little fear, don’t you? A little pain.” He notches the crown of his cock to my entrance and toys with one of my nipple piercings, pulling on it just enough for a heightened burst of tenderness as he pushes into my pussy. “I swear you grip me tighter when you’re afraid and when I hurt you.”
“And I swear your cock gets harder when you do,” I say on the heels of a moan. Nolan’s lopsided smile darkens with a wicked edge. His fingertips dig into my thighs and force them wider to the sound of my desperate gasp.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Look down.” I do as he says. His cock is not yet halfway sheathed by my pussy. And then he pulls out all the way, the smooth pink skin of his erection coated with my arousal. I’m riveted as he pushes back in, taking his time to go deeper. “You were made for me, Harper. Just like I was made for you. Look at how perfectly you take me.”
My flesh feels molten, tingling with electricity. We both watch as he grips my thighs and keeps them spread wide, then slowly glides in as far as I can take him. Each thrust is agonizingly slow. Every touch makes me crave more.
“I want to fill every bit of you,” Nolan says, his voice as rich as warm caramel. His hand leaves my leg to slip through my arousal and then trace a line across my lips. He pushes his fingers into my mouth in a way that claims.
“Fucking fill that pretty mouth until you choke.” I suck on his fingers as he pulls them free. His touch trails down the center of my body, pausing to circle one of the bars through my nipples before dragging his fingertips down until he’s swirling over my clit. “Fill this beautiful pussy until you’re screaming my name.” With a firmer swirl over my clit as I moan, his touch trails past my entrance where his cock slowly glides within me to gently press against the pleated rim of my ass. “Fill this tight hole until it’s dripping with my cum.”
A trembling breath leaves my lungs as he teases the entrance, pressing without pushing in. “I’ve never done that before,” I confess.
Nolan’s eyes snap to mine and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts briefly stutters. The hunger in his eyes is absolute. He tries to swallow it down, and then says, “Would you want to try someday?”
I nod. I want to try everything with him. I want to see how much I can take. To push every limit and go beyond them, and then find new ones to
break through.
His finger pauses at my hole with steady pressure. I give him another nod, and a breath later, he slips it inside. It’s a foreign sensation. But I like it. And as he resumes a cadence of deep thrusts, working his finger gently to the same rhythm, I already know I want more.
“We’ll prepare you. Make sure you can take me,” he says as he fits a second finger inside. I tilt my head back and press my eyes closed, gripping his shoulder to steady myself on the edge of the counter and moving my free hand to my clit. “And then I’m going to ravage every inch of you until you’re mine, including that tight little ass. Now look down and don’t close your eyes.”
Fuck I love it when he bosses me around. Sometimes, I want to rebel.
Other times, I want to obey. And I can tell he loves both, but nothing gives him more satisfaction than when he feels like he earns my submission.
“Make me come once first and maybe I’ll consider it for the second time,”
I say as I tilt my head back against the wall and let my eyes drift closed.
The growl that fills the room makes me grin. I gasp when his mouth encircles my nipple and he teases the metal bar with his tongue. It’s still a little sensitive, a hint painful. And I fucking love it.
“Such a fucking brat,” he whispers against my skin. His tongue makes a long, slow sweep across my chest, and then he’s teasing the bar through the other nipple. “Do you think you deserve to come twice?”
“Consider it your penance for the murder and having all that fun without me,” I reply as I rake my hand through his hair and grip the back of his head, holding him down on my breast. He growls his approval into my flesh. He fucks me harder. Pistons his fingers. The orgasm is creeping closer, my restraint fraying as I try to hold on to the mounting pleasure. “And stop trying to make me jealous.”
Another of Nolan’s moans rumbles through my chest, and I make a mental note to turn the tables and start ordering him around more, because something makes me think he just enjoyed that little command. His thrusts become punishing, even desperate. He sucks hard on my nipple. I work my clit harder, my motion feverish. I beg him not to stop as every nerve in my body ignites and then unravels in a blinding burst of pleasure.
Nolan slows but doesn’t stop, maintaining just enough rhythm to draw out my orgasm. When I try to withdraw my fingers from my over-sensitized clit, he puts them back, and I meet his eyes. “We had a deal,” he grits out on a deep thrust.
I can see the struggle for restraint written across his face. The desperation to unleash his orgasm lurks beneath his lowered brows, in his clenched jaw.
But he takes his time to bring me back. He builds a new rhythm. He trembles beneath my touch when I map his scars. He whispers dark thoughts.
Dangerous demands. Depraved promises.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Harper. You’re all I think about, every night and every goddamn day. You fucking consume me,” he says, his voice a gritty imprint on my unraveling mind. “I want to make you suffer for what you’ve done to me.”
The thrusts of his cock. The stroke of his fingers. My own swirling touch.
Pace and pressure intensify. Mindless desperation takes hold. And only one clear thought remains: That he’s right. We do fit perfectly together. He was made for me, just like I was for him. I already knew there was no one in all of hell or on earth like Nolan Rhodes. But it’s the first time I realize that maybe I can’t keep him out of the core of me. Maybe he’s already there, rooted in the lightless dark.
I come hard, looking down just like he wanted. He drives into me as deep as I can take him, filling me with his cum. I watch every stroke. Revel in every caress. I bask in every whispered chant of my name and every gentle glide of his fingertips over my sweat-slicked skin.
“I thought we just covered the subject of our deal,” Nolan says when I tilt my head back and close my eyes, steadying my breath. When I open them again, his gaze drops to where we’re joined. With a few long, slow strokes of his cock, he withdraws, but keeps his fingers in my ass. A moment later, he catches the cum dripping from my pussy and pushes it inside. “Next time, you’ll be taking it all.”
Another burst of need is already blooming in my belly as he slowly fucks the cum into my ass. He’s just guided my hand back to my clit when my phone buzzes next to me on the counter.
“Answer it,” he says when I frown at the Unknown Caller contact on the
screen. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop. And neither are you.”
I swallow and nod, then swipe to accept the call. “Hello?”
“Hi there, Harper,” Sheriff Yates says in his usual affable tone. “Having a good time?”
My brows furrow. I glance around as though he could be lurking in the shadows of the small building. “Umm . . . I’m sorry?”
Sheriff Yates laughs. “With Lukas. Irene mentioned you were helping him set up for the grand opening next week. I assumed you might be taste-testing some of that Lancaster Reserve that Irene said he recovered from storage.”
He lets out a low whistle on the other end of the line. “Wouldn’t blame you, either—I hear it’s great.”
“Right . . . I guess I’ll keep that in mind next time Lukas complains about how slow the work is going,” I say, fighting off a moan as Nolan’s touch glides deeper, as though maybe he’s a little jealous too but refuses to admit it.
“What can I do for you?”
“I’m actually looking for Mr. Rhodes. I heard he headed out to check on the distillery search party but I can’t seem to reach him on his phone.”
“Sure. I saw him a minute ago.” I meet Nolan’s eyes in a silent communication that the phone call is for him, but he doesn’t give a shit about that. He drives his fingers into me with a harder thrust for his own message: Look down. I refocus on the motion of his hand and mine above it as I continue swirling my touch over my clit. “Just hold on a second and let me find him.”
“You’re a peach,” Yates says. “Thank you, Harper.”
My jaw clenches as I pull the phone from my ear, but I don’t put it on mute in case Yates might find it suspicious. I break my attention away from my body just long enough to mouth the words Sheriff Yates. Nolan’s eyes darken, but he merely nods once, changing nothing at all about the pace of his thrusts or his singular focus on me. When it seems like an appropriate amount of time has elapsed, I pass him the phone, managing to keep my voice together just long enough to give him some bullshit line about Sheriff Yates as I do.
“This is Nolan,” he says, putting the call on speaker as he pumps another smear of cum into my ass. I choke on a whimper. “What can I do for you?”
“Hi, son. Hope I’m not disturbing you out there at the distillery,” Yates says.
“Nope, not at all.” I slow the rhythm of my fingers over my clit and receive a sharp glare from Nolan in response. It dissolves into a wicked grin when I resume my efforts.
“Something happen to your phone? I tried calling.”
“Yeah, I dropped it. I’ll order a replacement in a minute. Anything I can do for you?”
“Afraid so. Sorry to keep taking up your vacation like this,” Yates says, though I’m not sure how much it even registers with Nolan when his tongue is diving into my mouth in a searing kiss. “Anyway, if you wouldn’t mind making sure Selma’s all set with her team at the distillery, I’d like you to pop by the station. I’ve got a few questions for you.”
Our kiss breaks. Nolan is close enough that I could count every shade of variegated green and brown in his eyes. But I don’t see fear in them. I don’t feel it in his touch, his rhythm still unbroken. “Sure thing,” Nolan says. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Take your time, son. Say, if Harper is still around, can you pass the
phone back to her, please?”
“Will do. See you soon.”
Nolan keeps the phone held aloft as I give a breath of a pause, and say, “Hey, Sheriff, what can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a bit of a strange request for you.”
“Oh?” I reply as Nolan drives his fingers into my ass with harder strokes.
When the motion of my hand on my clit stutters again, he shoves the phone into my free hand and takes over. It’s a battle to keep a gasp from escaping.
“What’s that?” I manage. Barely.
“I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind stopping by my house some night for a barbecue. Maxine, she’s . . . well, she’s finding it a little tough to settle back into Carnage. A lot of her friends from childhood have left, and those who are here have different lives now. You know how it goes. It can take a while to settle back in. She mentioned meeting you the other day, and I guess I was thinking . . . ” Yates trails off and chuckles. “I sound like I’m arranging a playdate. You’re two grown women. I’m sure you’ll see each other around.
Sometimes, it’s hard to stop being a dad, forget I asked—”
“It’s no problem,” I struggle to grit out as an orgasm builds deep in my center. “I’d be happy to pop by. Just name the date and let me know if you want me to bring anything.”
“That’s so great. I’ll figure out her schedule and let you know. And you can just come as you are, no need to bring anything. Appreciate it, Harper.
Have yourself a wonderful day.”
I mutter a half-assed goodbye and disconnect the call just as Nolan surges forward to claim my lips in another brutal kiss. He takes everything from me.
The air from my lungs. The thoughts from my head. My control of my body.
He strips it all away, leaving me with a single fear. What happens if Nolan’s obsessive need to consume my body and soul eclipses his rational thinking— or has that already begun?
I shove that question somewhere deep in the recesses of my mind to excavate later. And then I come apart in blinding stars, my eyes press closed, my whimper lost to Nolan’s lips. When the aftershocks of the last orgasm subside, he finally pulls free. I hardly recognize myself in my own body. I’m a mess of sweat and trembling muscles and fractured thoughts. And I’m suddenly worried that my obsession with Nolan is becoming as deep as his with me. Because the lack of fear I saw in his eyes a moment ago didn’t make me want to run or hide. It was intoxicating.
“I guess I’d better go,” Nolan says. He walks over to the old utility sink, washes his hands in the rust-colored water it spits out, then dries them on a rag. Once he’s done, he takes care of me, cleaning me off with fresh tissues from his pocket, kissing my neck to soothe a bite that left a mark, carefully setting me down and helping me dress. He borrows my phone just long enough to order himself a new one, then gives me a smile, the first hint of worry rising in his eyes. “Everything’ll be fine, okay?”
I nod, but I can’t force any lightness into my expression. “Okay,” is all I can manage. “See you tonight, right?”
“Of course.” With a final kiss, Nolan turns away and stalks out of the shed. I wait, moving to the desk beneath the window, and brace my hands on its edge as I watch Nolan cross the field in search of Selma Dayton.
When he’s gone, I hang my head. Close my eyes. I swear I can still feel
him out there. Like I could find him even in the dark. I’m no longer sure anymore where he begins, and where I end, as though that line has been smudged and can’t be remade.
A long breath trickles from my lungs. When I open my eyes, the papers on the desk are stirring from the final currents of my exhalation. Yates’s call.
Nolan’s kill. Even Arthur’s recent volatility. Everything feels different than how it was supposed to be. My little world here in Cape Carnage has tilted on its axis. Like the gravitational force of a hidden star is dragging me into its orbit. Would I even be able to fight myself free of its pull? Or is the crash inevitable?
I pause, turning over these spiraling fears before I finally leave the shed and lock up behind me.
But it isn’t until later that night that I realize that something was missing when these questions swirled without answers. And I’m not sure if it’s a trick of memory, or if it was really true.
When I opened my eyes, the papers stirred on the desk beneath me.
But the almanac was gone.
