Page 59 of Tempest

I can’t reconcile the pit in my stomach with the swell in my heart every time I think of him. I can’t freaking do it.

Clover directs us to her car, an Audi sedan. I’m sure Tempest brought his car, too. Funny, considering there’s no need to leave campus or have luxury cars in the mountains, but the elite do what the elite do.

She drives us through Titan Falls’ gates and into the narrow forest roads, cresting and descending at a pleasant pace. Completely unlike her brother.

Jesus. Stop thinking about him.

“What’s on your mind?” Clover asks while staring straight ahead.

“Hmm?”

“Your hand.” Her eyes dart to my tapping fingers on the car’s door before going back to the road. “You composing something over there?”

I laugh it off, then tuck my hand firmly under my other one. “I get nervous leaving familiar places,” I lie. “I’ve never been into town before.”

“Oh, it’s great! Cute little shops and cafes, some boutiques. I’ll take you to lunch after we browse a bit, and you’ll be comfortable in no time.”

Clover chatters away about the small town. I listen with one ear tuned in while focusing on the woods outside my window, the dark patches spreading over the sunlight like ink splotches against white paper.

The trees thin, and the roadway widens until we reach a large wooden billboard shoved into the ground declaring, Welcome to Titan Falls, where our kindness is our strength. Clover parallel parks on a sparsely populated street. When I exit the car, I can hear the nearby shop shingles creak in the wind.

“Come on. It’s just over here.” Clover motions me to her side of the street.

We walk half a block past wooden facades and streak-free windows containing everything from antiques to vintage clothes. Every display is free of stickers, open signs, or help wanted ads.

It’s all so pristine.

And deserted.

“Where is everyone?” I ask. Clover’s a few paces ahead of me, eager to explore the New Age shop.

“It’s a work day. Probably everyone’s out … working,” she says over her shoulder.

I hum in unconvinced agreement. I haven’t even seen a shadow of a person or a moving car since we got here. Everything seems frozen in time, at a different date. Another century, even.

A flash of movement catches my eye. Ironic, considering I was just thinking the place was as deserted as an old Western film. I glance toward it, not thinking much until the flash turns into a face.

Two eyes framed in black. Mouth covered, neck encased. Balaklava.

I choke on my breath. Familiar heart palpitations follow, a panic attack in the making.

“Clover…” I whisper brokenly.

She doesn’t hear me.

“We’re here!” Clover halts and grabs my arm, power-walking us to a shop named Sarah’s Apothecary.

Clover pushes open the door, our entry announced with a sweet tinkling of bells.

The sound jars me out of the growing rush in my ears. I blink, centering myself by taking in the new surroundings.

The sharp scent of insence, hand-sewn dream catchers hanging from the ceiling, a spinning postcard stand by the counter, crystals, jewelry, candles, and statues ranging from pregnant women to erect wooden penises.

That’s enough to jolt me into reality.

It’s nothing. I didn’t see him. It’s a trick of my imagination.

“Can I help you?”

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