Page 32 of Ever Dark

But I can’t help myself. Before I hit the shower again, I send off a text to Lettie.

Convince Mia to come to the fight tonight, and I promise I’ll talk to Draven about backing off from her.

I’ll beg for her forgiveness later.

The return typing bubbles come in hot. I chuckle as I can imagine the confusion on my sister’s face.

Deal. But don’t fuck it up.

And so it begins…

Lettie is going to fucking kill me.

MIA

One of the things I learned from the orphanage is self-preservation. How to survive even when it seems impossible. But what terrifies me more than anything is being vulnerable. When I sleep, I’m in my weakest state. So I fight for control of everything when I’m awake. Last night reminded me of that.

Are there others like me? Do they know? After all these years, Nox still has so many secrets. He’s told me nothing of where he comes from or why he’s with me. It took me so long to come to terms with the fact that he’s real. That I didn’t just make him up in a fever dream. Even when the doctors and priests called me crazy, I knew Nox had to be real. There’s no other explanation for the marks that I wake up with. Yet sometimes, I question my own sanity. I question everything…

If there are others who know he exists, then maybe I can get some answers as to why he’s attached himself to me. Maybe I can finally accept that I might be cursed, but not insane.

But that’s not the only thing weighing on me thismorning. I need to apologize to Villette. It’s not her fault that her brother and his friends are psychos. She’s the first person who’s been genuinely nice to me in a long time. Plus, she was born and raised here. She might be able to shed some light on my affliction. Or, at the very least, maybe be someone I can talk to about it. It’s hard keeping this pent-up inside me. For years, I’ve lived with this secret. This shame.

I shoot off a text to her and try not to hold my breath while I wait for a response. I clean up the kitchen, make a pot of coffee, and do my best to distract myself. There’s still so much work to be done around here. I have to finish exploring the house, put away my things, and call someone about fixing my front gates.

I sip on my coffee while staring hard out the front window. Seeing all that twisted metal scattered all over the yard makes my blood boil. But thinking about what happened right after sends a flush across my skin.I have to stop having sex with Draven Blackwell. He’s the enemy. The asshole who is trying to run me out of town.

I think a small part of me is afraid to fully unpack. I’ve spent my whole life feeling unsettled. Even at the orphanage. It was the only place I ever knew as a child. And yet, I still kept a bag packed, thinking my parents were going to show up one day and take me back home.

That day, of course, never came, and it never will. But I’m still waiting for something. A sense of home. Of belonging. And until that clicks into place, I think I’ll always have one foot out the door.

My phone buzzes, breaking my trance. I look down to see it’s a text from an unknown number.

A couple of men will be by later today to start work on your gate. Don’t give them any trouble… Trouble.

Well, fuck.

This man never ceases to amaze me.

I respond back with:Great. It’s the least you can do.

He texts back:I’m not doing it for you. Once you sign the papers, I’ll have to fix them anyway.

I grit my teeth as a spark of anger returns. This fucking guy. He can’t do or say anything nice. Even when he’s fucking me, he’s a complete prick.

My phone buzzes again, and I’m about to tell him off when I see this one’s from Villette.

Thanks for reaching out, girl! I’d love to hang out. Meet me at the Headless Horseman in an hour. My treat!

I reply back with a thumbs-up emoji and finish my cup of coffee in the front window. My broken gates look even more insulting to me now that Draven is determined to fix them out of theunkindnessof his heart.

I’m not sure what to expect when I pull into town. I’ve only been to Duff’s, and that was at night.And I was pretty drunk.But in the light of day, this place is charming. It’s old world with its Victorian-style lampposts and cobblestone sidewalks—quaint and cute despite the creepy, dark forests that surround it. The fog is thick, and the air is crisp. Like something out of a Gothic novel.

I park my truck in one of the many empty slots in front of the Headless Horseman, wondering if I’m about to have my third cup of coffee or a mimosa brunch. I don’t know what type of girl Villette is—a caffeine freak like me or a day drinker.

All my questions are answered the second I waltz through the door, and the sharp, pungent scent of freshly roasted beans hits my nostrils. A wave of euphoria seizes my senses. My shoulders drop, all tension flitting away as I spot her at a corner table. As much as I love a stiff drink, coffee truly is my preferred poison.

She waves me over, her face bright, skin glowing with hardly a stitch of makeup. Her black hair is piled high on her head in one of those perfect messy buns that really isn’t messy at all.

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