Page 6 of Sweet Heat

“You okay back there?” Emma asks, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. My heart thumps with worry at her eyes not being on the road for a fraction of a second, but I do my best and manage not to scold her. Breathing through my nose and counting.One. Two. Three. Four…

My friends are so understanding of my car-related anxieties, but I try to make them more palatable whenever possible. I’ve known Emma since elementary school. Besties back then and all the way through high school and beyond. She was there for me during the aftermath of the catastrophic accident, carrying my books, helping me to classes, and consoling me as I figured out how to navigate my anosmia.

Mari is a newer addition since college, but a soul friend nevertheless.

“I’m fine. Just trying not to lose it on my parents,” I explain ruefully. I love them all, truly I do, but the accident left us all with scars, some more visible than others. But it’s the ones not seen that are the hardest to shake. I nearly died. Mama lost her best friend, and now, anytime I push for independence, she getsso worked up that Papa and Dad don’t know what to do. Their instincts force them to protect her at all costs, and that cost has been my freedom. Perhaps I should have pushed harder and demanded to forge my own path like Owen. But they’ve shackled me with love and fear, bindings that pull much tighter than handcuffs of malice.

“You know, you can always come to stay with us if you need a break from it all,” Mari offers, twisting in the front seat to meet my eyes. She reaches out a hand, and I grab onto it, holding it like a lifeline for my rioting emotions.

“They want me home by curfew,” I sigh, using my free hand to give air quotes for the last word. I slump against the seat, torn between frustration and capitulation. “I’m twenty, and they think I’m still fifteen.”

“Almost twenty-one,” Emma pipes up as she turns the steering wheel and navigates into a parking spot.

Damn, that went fast.

“That’s right. Twenty-one,” I agree, letting them fuel my outrage as we hop out of the car and head into the apartment, which is as familiar to me as my own bedroom.

“Well, you know the spare room is still there. I can easily move things around for your jewelry tools. Whenever you’re ready to take the leap, just let me know and I’ll be there with bells on.” Emma and Mari drop their stuff by the door, and we walk into the welcoming space.

“How is the new website working out, by the way?” Mari asks. It’s been just a few weeks since I launched a website for my jewelry design company—PM Originals—and between that andthe social media buzz Emma’s been helping me create, I’ve been accepting orders left and right.

“It’s been amazing! We’ve nearly tripled our order volume since that video Emma made of the red earrings,” I chatter excitedly, dropping my stuff on the table before closing and locking the door behind me. “I just got my first custom order for real gemstones.”

The fact that my business is taking off is just the first step toward creating the life of my dreams, but it’s a big one, and I’m elated.

“Do you think there’s enough space for your tools?” Emma points to the hallway where the bedrooms are located.

This place always haunts me, a specter of what could have been. My mind wanders as I recall the day we found it. Emma and me, all excited and high on getting into the same university. We always planned to go to school together, and it was finally happening.

“Oh, my goodness!” I exclaim, running from room to room. The plush teal carpeting muffles the sound of my feet as I sink into it. The bedrooms are enormous; plenty of space for Emma and another that has an adjoining nest for me. It’s freaking perfect, and let’s be honest, as long as the building is safe, our parents will be more than happy to cover the budget.

“There’s an extra den over here, too!” Emma shouts from the other side of the apartment, and I race across it, excitement fluttering through me. Her eyes sparkle with happiness as she spins in the spare room. “Is this big enough for your equipment?”

Glancing around the space, I imagine where I can stack shelves, keep all my beads, and add some top-notch lighting. Right now,my jewelry-making stuff is under my bed—of course, this room is big enough. It’s big enough to house my hopes and dreams and aspirations of one day becoming a designer. And the walls may even be sturdy enough to keep out the demons.

Throwing my arms wide, I join my best friend, spinning and spinning until we flop onto the floor, staring at the ceiling. Freedom is calling—and the sky’s the limit.

But this place isn’t the same now. After my parents backed out of letting me live here, Emma’s took over paying for the entire thing. Until Mari came along and wiggled right into our little band of misfits. I insisted she take the second bedroom when dorm life became a complete and total nightmare, and although she felt bad, after her roommate locked her out for the umpteenth time, she relented.

There’s still room for me here, though. The nest remains untouched, and the extra den currently stores overflow boxes and random items; however, we can make space with a little rearranging.

And we certainly love each other enough to make it work…

“I think I’m ready,” I whisper. They squeal with delight, bouncing jubilantly, and an enormous smile splits my face. Lightness lifts my spirits. My mother’s last-minute panic attacks stopped this from becoming a reality three years ago, but now I’m older and more capable of standing on my own two feet. This time, when she throws a fit, I need to stand firm, even if my dads order me to stay to keep Mom sane.

“Yes! Let’s do this! You’re not underage anymore. So, they can’t say no!” Emma pumps her fist in the air, her determination catching up with mine. When they pulled the plug on my dreamsof independence, I became reliant upon them for my financial needs, but now I’ve squirreled away a nest egg from my business. I just hope it’s enough… and that my guilt over the accident doesn’t pull me right back in.

“You could even go on dates if you lived here!” Mari yelps, and she’s right. Someone could take me out without all the hullabaloo of meeting the dads. The intimidation of taking out the famous Pack Moore’s omega daughter.

I could finally be myself.

Just Posie.

Could this happen?

My shot at happiness is knocking at the door, and it’s long past time I finally answered. Nerves zip through my abdomen, but the excited butterflies beat them back.

Now, I just need to tell my parents.

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