Page 19 of Moth to a Flame

I push all thoughts of him aside and follow Mojo. No, I’m not thinking about the tall man with the black eyes and the sharp jaw. How he grabbed me and hauled me into his chest and how it didn’t feel bad.

None of it is as important as keeping my shoulder in place and not choking Mojo simultaneously.

I’m with him at my doorstep in record time. The dog sniffs whatever’s there, as if he’s on a treasure hunt or something.

It takes me a little longer to notice what he already has.

“What’s that?” His teeth are latched onto the trash bag. When I put my hand out to him, he releases it with a disappointed huff.

There’s something in there. Something light, that has Mojo yapping like I’m denying him his treat.

His paws claw at my leggings, almost tearing the thick fabric.

“Oh my God, Mojo, you funny dog. Relax. What’s in this bag anyway?” I’m curious. So curious that I would’ve peeked inside right here in the hallway.

Then again, Mojo could jump at whatever’s inside and eat it.

I can’t let him just have anything. He’s my nephew. “Let’s get you home, buddy.”

Mojo stops his clawing and yapping, his eyes huge and pleading.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” I pat his head. “It’s just…You should eat things that are good for you. Like the treat I promised. You want that?”

He wags his tail enthusiastically, and I smile. I walk him into Rosemary’s apartment as quietly as humanly possible, leaving him there with two treats instead of one for being such a good boy. For reassuring me that Landon isn’t a bad guy.

I slap myself inwardly. I can’t afford to obsess over the first man I’ve ever been interested in. A man I’ll probably never see again.

He was the one who walked away.

Right.

Anyway.

The bag.

Behind the safety of my locked door, I go over to the table where I left my laptop. I shove it aside and place the trash bag there.

Squish.

My brow furrows, my curiosity reaching an all-time high. “What kind of food makes a squishy sound?”

Spoiled tomatoes maybe.

Either that or I’ve been thrown into a scene from a horror book.

My teeth run along my bottom lip as I consider the possibilities.

This couldn’t be Lester sending threats to my doorstep. They cut off his communication to the outside world since he tried and failed to send someone to kill me.

What else?

Hmm.

A bloody body part would make a squishy sound.

Cool. So cool.

I mean, not cool, but yes, yes, it’s cool. If it really is the case, I could be living inside of my favorite genre. Not as a victim.

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