Page 122 of Pareidolia

But the man I’d pushed off the tower’s body was missing. And when I clench my fingers, I’m almost positive I can still feel something squirming beneath my skin.

It wasn’t my imagination.

I don’t think it was my imagination.

By the time we get to the hardware store and give the men behind the counter measurements for new boards, I’ve almost convinced myself that it must have been something I made up. Maybe I never pushed the man over the edge at all.

Maybe the boards were already broken and I was just reliving one of the most formative moments of my life.

My fingers in my glove clench and unclench again before I bring them to my throat.

“I meant to ask, what happened there?” Noah’s eyes are staring at where my fingers are touching. At first, I think he means my hand… but he can’t see that through the soft leather of the gloves, and my jacket is still pulled down. Which means⁠—

He leans in, brushing his knuckles against my neck and drawing a small sting of pain.

Right.

Claw marks.

Claw marks from the imaginary monster, which either means he’s real, or I’m very into making sure my hallucinations are believable.

“Must have been scraped by something when I was hiking in last night.” I shrug, stepping around him and away from his touch to grab a hammer and some nails. “I’ve had worse.”

Worse, but… my hand lifts to brush against the marks again, and this time my gloved fingers press into the wound. The small spike of pain grounds me, and I blow out another breath.

What am I doing here?

Honestly… what the fuck am I doing spending time in a town that I hate with a man who’ll have every reason to want me dead if he ever finds out what I did to his brother?

What the fuck am I supposed to do if he realizes who I am?

What if he already knows?

I glance at him, but he isn’t looking at me like he knows me.

He’s looking at me like he might want to, but…

“You should be more careful,” Noah finally says, and I want to melt into the floor and dissolve somewhere into the molten core of the earth just to save myself from having to be in this situation anymore. I would rather set myself on fire than force another smile across my face as I respond.

“I’m pretty tough. It’s not a big deal. Thanks, though.”

How did it feel more natural talking to a giant-ass moth monster than speaking with a regular person, someone I grew up with? Even if he doesn’t remember that part of it.

Noah smiles before he turns, picking up the board and telling the man to add it to his tab before I have a chance to grab my wallet.

“I could have gotten that.” I frown.

“Consider it a… really strange housewarming gift.”

House.

Home.

“Last I saw, the fire tower wasn’t for sale,” I offer lamely, and he laughs.

“I mean, if you talk to the right people, it might be. I have it on good authority that no one is going to kick you out.”

He sounds so warm, charming. For the first time in a long time, I find myself feeling envious of how naturally emotion seems to come to some people, and I don’t want to think too hard on why I’m feeling that way.