Page 55 of Midnight at the Magnolia

The slight dilation of her pupils.

That barely perceptible shift into a defensive stance.

How her breathing changes, becomes more controlled.

The way her eyes map the exits, just like they did in the bayou.

For a moment, I think she might confess everything. But then her expression hardens, her jaw setting in a way I’ve come to recognize as stubborn determination.

God help me, I love even this about her—this steel beneath the silk.

“Ethan, the world isn’t as black and white as you think,” she says, her voice low and intense. “Sometimes, to do what’s right, you have to work in the shadows.”

“That’s what they all say,”Lauren’s memory cuts in.“Right before they put a bullet in your heart.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. I run a hand through my hair, frustration building. The rough texture of my unkempt locks is a testament to the stress of the past few days. “I don’t know what to think anymore, Celeste. I know you’re hiding something. I can feel it. And it’s tearing me apart.”

She steps closer, her eyes pleading. The warmth of her body, so close to mine, is achingly familiar. I catalogue every detail of this moment, knowing it might be our last:

The faint trace of jasmine in her hair.

How her pulse jumps at her throat.

The slight tremor in her hands she’s trying to hide.

The way she watches my every movement, like a dancer anticipating her partner’s steps.

Or like a fighter reading her opponent.

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