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The crisp air clings to me like a whisper. I stand at the familiar corner, facing the old diner that has been a constant presence in my life for the past two years. Through the morning dimness, I can spot the flickering lights inside and the vague silhouette of someone moving past the windows.
I nervously nibble on my chapped and cracked lips, feeling a lingering hesitation. The past week flew by in a whirlwind of mundane routines and unsettling encounters—Desmond’s enigmatic presence, Matty’s unwavering determination, and Lyric’s eerie pursuit through the woods have upended my life. I’m uncertain if this newfound chaos is a welcome shift or a harbinger of something darker.
“Go inside, Charlotte, just go,” I urge myself. The words feel like a mantra, a desperate plea to overcome the uncertainty that clings to me like a shroud. I take one tentative step after another, my heart pounding louder than my footfalls on the sidewalk.
Entering the diner means more than grabbing a meal or starting another workday. It signifies acceptance of Lenora’s perplexing hold on me, the complex relationships with the trio of mysterious men, and the unsettling undercurrents that flow through the town’s history.
As I approach the entrance, my nerves flutter in my throat like trapped butterflies. Lyric’s haunting pursuit in the woods left its mark, leaving me with a gnawing inner conflict. I sought refuge on Sunday with Milo, losing myself in the soothing embrace of movies as I yearned for a brief escape from the tumultuous reality I now face.
Now, as I walk closer, I can’t help but question how these encounters will continue to shape my life. Each step I take feels like a gamble, with uncertainty casting a long shadow. Deep down, though, there’s an unwavering determination to confront the mysteries that have taken root in Lenora, even if it means delving deeper into the tangled web of intrigue surrounding me.
The urge to leave lingers like an uninvited guest, whispering in my ear as I stood in my bedroom yesterday, clutching my suitcase, but when I finally knelt on my bedroom floor, my fingers brushing against the worn fabric, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I shoved the damn thing back under my bed, exchanged my regular clothes for cozy pajamas, and decided that Sunday was not a day to confront the mental gymnastics I’ve been putting off.
The truth is, I don’t want to deal with it. I just want to exist, free from the weight of overthinking and the burden of dissecting the complexities of my decision to stay in Lenora. I’m well aware that I might be enabling the perplexing men who have entered my life by remaining. Still, the thought of unraveling their secrets and motivations feels overwhelming.
As I make my way around the diner, my hand closing around the cool knob of the backdoor, I allow myself just three seconds to take a deep breath, to gather my thoughts and resolve, and then, with a determined yank, I swing the door open and step inside.
I’ve made my choice.
I’m in it, whatever “it” is. It’s a decision fraught with uncertainty, but as I step into the warm air of the diner, I know I can’t turn back now. The path ahead sits in shadows, but I’m determined to navigate the maze that has become my life.
I’m early. After walking Milo to school, I came right here, choosing to throw myself into my workday. There is always prep work in any restaurant, and since Desmond closed the diner for a week, I know there will be more than usual.
The scent of freshly baked bread greets me, making my mouth water. I toss my purse, coat, and hat on the bench in the locker room and allow my senses to carry me into the kitchen, where I only pause briefly at the floor where Sal died.
The tile where his blood pooled is clean and brand new. The entire kitchen, in fact, is new. Stainless steel gleams in the lights from above. Everything is pristine, and a part of me is thankful that Desmond did this in the past week.
The man himself stands behind the counter, and for a long, long moment, all I can do is stare at him, my lips twitching with mirth. I lean against the fridge, my eyes caught in his snare. Gone is the business suit he usually wears, and in its place are black kitchen pants and a tight white shirt that stretches across his muscles in a way that has heat pooling in my belly. It’s the tattoos up and down his arms that flex every time he kneads the dough in front of him, however, that have me salivating.
“You’re staring, kitten.” Desmond’s dark eyes flick up to mine, and the look he gives me sends a tingle through my entire body.
It’s just us in here—a fact I struggle to push out of my mind. Being alone with Desmond should be illegal. “I’m just watching the show.”
Desmond’s dark eyes hold mine, his expression unreadable. The air between thickens with tension, and I can’t help but feel the electricity coursing through my veins. I embrace it like a lifeline. Being alone with Desmond has always been a dangerous game, one that I can’t resist playing. It’s proof enough that even if I left, I wouldn’t run for long.
He tilts his head slightly, his lips curling into a slow, seductive smile. “The show, huh?” His voice is low, sending shivers down my spine.
I nod, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “Yeah, just…watching.”
Desmond lets his dough lie on the counter as he steps back and around the island, closing the distance between us. His presence is magnetic, making focusing on anything but him increasingly tricky. “You know,” he begins, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper, “there are other ways to pass the time.”
My heart pounds in my chest, each beat echoing like a drum in the small, secluded room. Desmond’s presence is intoxicating, and I can’t deny the magnetic pull between us. I force myself to speak, my voice a shaky whisper. “What do you have in mind?”
Desmond’s fingers trail along my cheek, igniting a fierce desire deep within me. His voice, low and menacing, sends shivers down my spine. “I think you already know,” he murmurs, his lips tantalizingly close to mine.
In that electric moment, I surrender to the darkness, letting go of the constraints of morality and the world beyond our secret haven. It’s just Desmond and me, alone in this forbidden space we’ve woven.
“Oh,” I murmur, my heart racing, uncertain of his intentions.
Leaning down, he sends my blood pressure skyrocketing. His warm breath fans across my ear and neck, sending my entire body into a frenzy of desire. “Oh, yes, kitten,” he purrs, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I need you to take the bread out of the oven.” He steps back, sinister laughter dancing in his gaze.
The tension in the room shifts, and I realize that Desmond’s allure is not solely about desire, but something far more ominous lurking beneath the surface.
Fucking tease.
I won’t make it through the day if he wants to play this game—a game that doesn’t have any rules. “I’m going to start coffee.” I turn on my heel, swallowing my desire and ignoring this man who sends my body into overdrive.
As I prepare the coffee, my mind drifts back to that haunting night. The memories of flashing cop cars and the FBI’s ominous presence are still fresh. Matty’s words echo through me, and I can’t help but confront the nagging doubt within me.
