Page 9 of Firefly Effect

I find a spot in the small parking lot behind the bar then follow the sidewalk around the building. The open entrance sits below the buzzing neon sign on Main Street. Before I even step a foot inside, I spot the wall-to-wall bookshelves on both floors of the main room. If I hadn’t seen the long bar on the wall across from the door, I would have thought I’d just stepped into an upscale private library. The ones that don’t bother with alphabetized labels on the spines because everything is a first edition. The ones that add value the more dust they collect. The ones that feel more like a museum than an actual library.

Walking into the space, I’m even more in awe, looking at the red-leather seating, the oversized chairs in front of a grand fireplace surrounded by shelves of books, long red-oak tables, and a spiral aluminum staircase that reaches a second floor of more books. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life.

Well, maybe I have. But not with a bar sitting prominently across the back wall.

“Lincoln,” a voice calls.

Turning toward the back of the bar, I see my landlord, Patrick, waving as he heads in my direction. He’s wearing an apron and a black shirt that promotes the name of the establishment along with the year 2011. Given the fact that the man also has a well-established real estate portfolio, I’m going to assume he owns this place too.

Patrick smiles as he closes in and holds out his fist.

I bump it with mine. “Hey there, Patrick. Cool bar name.”

Patrick grins proudly. “Got the idea from my niece, actually. She was eight when she saw her first firefly and became obsessed. I bought this place the same year.”

Unease spreads through me. With what I know about this town, the bar name is a strange one for the history attached to it. Everyone has heard about the Firefly Man, the serial murderer rumored to find his victims at campgrounds in the Smoky Mountains, especially those who disturb the peace of the fireflies during mating season. While the moniker stems from an old campfire tale rather than having anything to do with the actual motivation behind the killings, one would think the name would carry more weight in this area.

I nod and let myself scan the two-story structure again, genuinely impressed with its design. “At first, I thought maybe the name had something to do with that girl dying years ago.”

Patrick’s entire body seems to sag. “In a way, it does. We decided to keep the name after that incident. My niece insisted on it to honor those who have passed. ‘As long as that neon sign is lit, their lights will never die.’ That’s how she likes to put it.”

When I settle my focus back on him, I manage a smile. The sentiment is sweet but isn’t one I want to dwell on. “Thanks again for the rental. It’s a great piece of property. The guesthouse is perfect for us too.”

Patrick nods, appearing pleased. “I know it’s not right to have favorites, but you definitely scored the best of my rentals. I lived in that one for ten years until I was finally ready to downsize but had a tough time letting it go.”

I tilt my head, curious. “Why did you?”

He shrugs. “Too big for me now. My niece doesn’t live with us anymore and my ex-partner just left me, so setting off to do some traveling to mend my broken heart.” He clutches his chest dramatically. “Hence, why I’m heading out of town tomorrow.” He slides a large manila envelope across the bar to me. “That should be everything you’ll need while I’m out. Left some phone numbers in there, too, just in case there’s an emergency. My niece can handle anything in my absence.”

Without thinking twice, I pull myself onto the stool and pat the envelope. “Appreciate you pulling this together for me.”

“Not a problem at all. Now,” he says, pointing to a chalkboard of listed drink specials above his head. “What’s your poison?”

“Nah, I don’t need anything. I just want to go home and get to bed. It’s been a long couple of weeks.”

Patrick grins, exposing a perfectly white set of teeth. “Isn’t that why people drink?” He leans forward, eyes confident like he’s not taking no for an answer. “This one’s on me.”

Temptation lures me in. A nice glass of liquor wouldn’t hurt. “All right, you win. Something spicy. Your choice.”

Patrick finds a bottle of Tennessee Fire from the top shelf and pours until the glass is a quarter full then slides it to me. “Give that a try.”

I put the glass to my lips when he walks away to check on other customers. In the same moment he’s leaving the bar, another figure steps into view behind it. The elusive Evelyn Vaughn. I recognize her instantly, if not for that thick mane of blonde hair than for the pout of perfectly pink lips that rests on her naturally downturned mouth.

She wears a red-velvet skirt with a slit up her thigh and a tight graphic tee that ends at the small of her waist, just below her navel. When my eyes slide up to her chest, I look away immediately. Her outfit reminds me of what she wore the day I found her in my office, save for this shirt’s V-neck, which brings my focus exactly where it shouldn’t be.

Fuck me.

It goes against everything in my professional nature to be drawn to one of my potential patients like this. That was never part of the plan. I’m not even sure that it’s all sexual—maybe I was stung by her rejection when she stormed out of my office. There’s just something about her that plays on my curiosity like a bow to a fiddle. I want to know more.

She’s slowly making her way in my direction while scanning the customers at the bar, pulling empty cups and dirty napkins from the counter, and asking each person if there’s anything else they need. She doesn’t even look in my direction until she’s a few feet away.

When she does, she appears frozen with shock. Kind of like how my nerves feel right now.

Evelyn only pauses for a few seconds before she seems to snap out of it and continue her trek toward me. Her eyes slip to my lips, where I’m still holding my glass. “Need another?”

For a moment, I’m confused, until I realize that I’ve already downed my entire drink. I set the glass on the bar and shake my head. “No. I should get going.” I stand, internally screaming at myself to just walk away, but something holds me to the spot. Then I blurt, “I’d like to see you again.”

Her eyes flash wide with surprise, and I can feel my cheeks heat from the recklessness of my words.

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