Page 45 of Into Ember

I’m grinning.

I don’t notice I’m grinning until my face starts to ache and—

No.

No, no, no. Grinning at women in forests is Rayner’s entire personality, and one of him is plenty—

“—and always — always — have big dicks. Let’s be real, Gerald.”

She’s not wrong.

The grin is back. Bigger.

Fuck.

“And they live in books,” she informs the plant. “Where the authors put them. On purpose. Because that’s where they belong.”

She’s arguing with reality. Out loud. To a houseplant. And reality should just pay up now and save itself the trouble, because I’ve been fighting this woman since Chicago, and the outcome is never in my favor.

I have personally argued with weather. She’s better at it than I ever was.

I let my head fall back against the bark.

For the record, I fought it. Like my life depended on it.

It felt like it did.

I can’t fight this anymore.

Look at her. She is so fucking amazing and she has no idea. Full of life, hands going, arguing with nothing. Her whole world was flipped upside down and shaken twice — and she’s still standing. Still swinging. Still funny.

Then her voice changes.

The friend. The fairy tale. The scream she’d scream. And then — will I ever see her again — and somewhere in the middle of that sentence, nothing out here is funny anymore.

My parents are.

She’s crying.

She’s crying alone in the middle of the woods. I can’t have that, and I’m off my tree and moving before I—

The plant moves.

Wait. Is that…

What the hell is Gerald doing out here?

And he’s shaking. Leaves faster, bigger, way bigger than a plant should—

What the fuck?!

And then Gerald shifts, he’s not a plant anymore.

No fucking way.

No way.

That’s not— those don’t—