Page 13 of Moth to a Flame

When I saywork, I’m talking about our small business. We inherited this two-story building in Brooklyn from our grandparents, seeing we were their only granddaughters.

For a while, we toyed with the idea of turning it into a bookstore. We love reading. Both of us are a part of the same horror book club, and Rosemary goes to a romance book club too.

The problem was the tall shelves. Anyone could hide behind them. Any man who wanted to could grab us and drag us back there.

No one would see them hurting us.

Hence why we opened Everglow Repairs, our computer and phone repairs shop. We’re both good with electronics and we figured, why not. No one can get in the back without a key. Ourtheory proved itself, too. Over the last eight years, we’ve been safe.

They could, though, if they really wanted to.

I bite the inside of my cheek, steeling my muscles against the shudder that I can feel coming. Rosemary doesn’t need to freak out even more than she already is. She needs to go back to bed.

“And you do?” Her frown melts, gaze softening.

“We both know you’re the one our customers look at.” I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger, and she laughs. “The pretty one.”

“Please.” She rolls her eyes at me before grabbing me by the elbow and hauling me to the full-length mirror with the antique frame in her living room. Even though it’s obvious that I was joking, she pins me to her side and asks, “Who do you look like?”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes playfully at her. “Mom and Dad.”

“Try again.”

That’s my sister. I’ve woken her up in the middle of the night, and all she cares about is making sure I’m okay.

“You.” This isn’t a lie. Many people have confused us for twins over the years because she’s only two years my senior.

Some even thought Mom was our older sister.

The three of us are five-two curvy women with the same soft features. Rosemary is the odd one out, with her red hair that matches Dad’s, but she’s definitely not as tall and bulky as he is.

“And…” Rosemary pinches me, clearly having the same line of thought as I do.

“Mom.”

“The stunner.”

I nod.

“Ding, ding, ding. You got it right. Now you may leave.” A smile spreads on her face. It’s contagious, and I laugh as she pushes me out the door. “Don’t stay out too late. Jigsaw’s on you?”

“Always.” I pat my hidden pocket where I keep my gun.

“Good.” She covers her mouth when a yawn escapes her.

She really should get some sleep.

Mojo is antsy, his paws scraping the floor when she leans in to kiss his snout. “Be a good boy, keep Auntie Regan safe. I’m counting on you.”

Woof!

At his vehement response, Rosemary shoves a doggy bag into my hand and closes the door behind her. I don’t go down the stairs until I hear her lock slide into place.

The first hints of the fall’s cool breeze stroke my face when I step outside. A couple of lights in the windows greet me, other than the lampposts’ soft glow on the dark street.

Many people might feel safe knowing that their neighbors are up. To have someone hear their screams in case they were attacked.

Not me. I trust Mojo and Jigsaw and my instincts.

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