Page 157 of Flirty Fall Fling

Every word I can’t say yet, I let her feel. We speak a language together that no one else knows without using a single syllable.

We finish together, wrapped up in each other. Her moans are released in my shoulder. Mine gets lost in her hair. Afterward, she stays on my chest with one leg thrown across me. I twirl her dark hair in my fingers, staring up at the ceiling, knowing what comes next.

She sleeps with her palm open, and I see the scar on her hand. I trace the line across it once, too light to wake her. Then I kiss her forehead.

“I’m in love with you, Blaire,” I confess, barely a whisper.

She doesn’t hear it.

35

BLAIRE

Iwake up cold and reach for him before I’m awake enough to know better.

His side of the bed is empty.

The sheets are crumpled.

The bathroom is dark.

There’s no lingering smell of coffee climbing the stairs, like it has the past week. Charlie sits at the foot of the bed with his eyes fixed on me.

“Is he still here?” I ask, knowing the answer in my heart.

Next to my phone on the nightstand, there’s a folded piece of paper. I unfold it.

Thanks for being my flirty fall fling.

Underneath it sits a signature I’ve never seen—Jameson Cross.

Not Jamie. No, that name is only reserved for family and the people he loves. Jameson Cross is a name used by strangers, flings, and fans.

The rules were mine, made on the equinox with my dress half off and my guard down. No falling in love and gone on November first, with a sprinkle of no lying. Forty days later, one of us kept the rules, and it wasn’t me.

He told me once that he’d keep his promises to me. I almost wish this one were one of those he broke.

I get up because staying in bed feels wrong.

His toothbrush isn’t in the cup by my sink. The razor and his charger are gone. The sweatshirt I stole in October is folded on the chair, like he left it just for me, but everything else has vanished.

Both of our wolf masks sit on the floor by the dresser where we dropped them, nose to nose.

Through the balcony doors, the backyard is a field of jack-o’-lanterns, covered in frost.

I can’t help the tears that fall. I let myself get it out because this is exactly what I wanted.

Charlie climbs over my legs and settles next to me, reaching.

I pick up my phone and decide to call him. It picks up, and I get the message that the number is no longer in service. I listen to it twice, like this is such a sick joke. It doesn’t change. I set the phone face down on the blanket, taking this as a sign.

He disconnected his phone. Wow.

The mood ring on my pointer finger, which has been violet since I met him, is black. I take it off and set it on my nightstand.

The manor hasn’t felt this empty since my aunt passed away. For forty days, I had the pleasure of hearing his laugh, footsteps on the stairs, and him asking Charlie ridiculous questions. The house is holding its breath, just like me.

I put on his sweatshirt and hate how much it comforts me. The red cape hangs off the edge of my dresser. Last night, I was Little Red Wolf, dancing with the Big Bad in front of the whole town. Everyone knew it was us; no one said a word.