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“I…I…I need to go to the library,” I stammer.
“Instead of work?”
“It’s for work,” I say, again not sure of anything. I’m lying, I think? I blink a few times and let Easton pull me to my feet. His hands settle on my waist and I pull away.
“What’s wrong?”
“Um. Nothing,” I rush out, not wanting to hurt his feelings. Because telling him that his touch feels wrong will hurt his feelings. But why?
Rubbing my forehead, I turn and see a flash of black fur.
Binx.
Holy shit, that’s right. Eyes wide, I keep my mouth shut and speed into the bedroom, brushing my teeth and grabbing my phone. I say a rushed goodbye to Easton, who’s slowly getting ready like everything is normal. I’ll come back for him once I figure this shit out. We’re in this together…I think? I head outside, stopping when I step onto the sidewalk in front of the apartment complex.
Everything is foggy, and it’s like I’m walking through thick sand. I’m fighting whatever has a hold on me, and I’ll be damned before I let it best me.
I’ve been through worse.
At the moment, I can’t recall exactly what I’ve been through, yet I can feel it in my heart: I’ve been through some realshittyshit in my past. Somewhat knowing my way around Chicago, I hastily walk down the block, not realizing I’m headed toward the Martin family office until it’s too late.
“Hey, sis.”
I whirl around, eyes widening when I see Scott. His lips are curled back in a smug grin.
“Don’t call me sis. I’m not your sister.”
“What?” Scott lets out a snort of laughter. “Is your little boyfriend ready to give up on the campaign? He could still take an unpaid spot on our team…if he begs for it.”
Easton isn’t my boyfriend, yet I’m pissed the fuck off by Scott insulting him. I blink and everything comes rushing back all at once. This isn’t real. Scott is a grade-A asshole in my actual life—and this one, because how else can you paint him? And then it dawns on me.
This isn’t real. Not all my actions will have consequences…right?
“You know,” I start and push my hair back. “I’m really tempted to saydracaryslike I mean it and see if you go up in flames. My only regret will be the possibility of not remembering you screaming in pain as the flesh melts off your bones and the smoke starts to slowly choke you until you’re depleted of all oxygen and each fiery breath burns your lungs from the inside out.”
The sneer on Scott’s face starts to fade. “I always knew there was something wrong with you.”
“Yeah. Because I’m not a Martin.” I throw my hand out, feeling warmth rise inside of me—and Scott stumbles back.
Fuck, yes.
I’m a witch, and I have powers. I swallow hard and push forward, walking down the sidewalk and ignoring Scott’s screaming. I mentally call for Binx, trying not to get inside my head. Because if Scott isn’t real, then am I? If something happens to me here, will it happen to me wherever I am?
“No,” I say out loud. “Because I was shot and here I am.” I keep muttering to myself and randomly throwing my hands in front of me, trying to summon my powers. I look insane, and several people purposely avoid me, but I don’t care and I keep trying to use magic until I get into the library.
The mental fog is closing in, threatening me once again. I grab a piece of scrap paper and a pencil from the front desk and quickly jot down a note.
You’re stuck in a loop. None of this is real. WAKE UP!
My eyes fall shut as pain starts to radiate from right between my eyes. Vision blurry, I blink my eyes open and feel my head bob toward the table.
Once.
Twice.
“Can I help you find anything today?”
Sitting up straight, the librarian’s voice is enough to pull me back to the here-and-now…which isn’t really here anyway. I blink a few times, trying to figure out what the fuck just happened since last time I checked, I didn’t suffer from supernatural narcolepsy.
