Page 72 of Burn

I watch Adrian’s eyes as he speaks. He’s a man of many smiles, and this one isn’t happy or friendly. I turn back toward Charlie, and his smile is undeniably genuine. Lines form around his eyes, eyes that sparkle as he speaks.

“West of Torhaven – a small town called Hallowmoore. Strangest little town. You guys live in the city, right? Blake mentioned that Morgan moved out there the year before we met. My folks are still out that way.” He motions toward the man he’d been speaking to when Adrian interrupted. There’s a pause, and Charlie’s smile falters just enough that I catch it. “Why do you ask?”

Adrian’s expression remains neutral. “Just curious. East Coast — you must’ve played hockey, then?”

Where is he going withthis?

Blake lets out a sudden laugh, nearly choking on her water. “Him?”

Charlie playfully shoves her shoulder. “Come on, babe. I could have played hockey!”

“No. You could not have. You don’t like when your fingernails are dirty, let alone getting your knuckles bloody playing hockey, of all things.” She turns to Adrian. “He’s more of a golf kind of guy, you know?”

Charlie places his hand on his chest, looking wounded. Adrian laughs, and it rumbles across me. “No hockey for me. I’m mildly horrified to confirm that golf is more my speed. My cousins played, though. I was more into the arts. Photography and videography.”

“He works for a television station based here,” Blake offers. “He created something for the wedding that made me cry when we previewed it. It’s so beautiful.”

Adrian’s hand is still on my thigh, but now his fingers dig in slightly, an outward expression of the tension I can feel brewing under his unphased exterior.

Blake continues talking, “Most of our guests are Charlie’s people. He has a massive family, like never-ending cousins. I invited some work friends. A few will be there, but besides that, I don’t have a large circle. Morgie, when we decided you couldn’t be a part of the wedding party, I asked Charlie’s sister to step in.”

Guilt churns in my empty stomach.

“Hallowmoore?” Adrian asks. “You said it’s strange. What makes it so strange?”

The older man across the table groans and Charlie laughs before waving him off and turning back to Adrian with a new gleam in his eyes. “Oh man, where do I even start? That townis notorious for bizarre happenings. Disappearances, weird lights in the sky, ghosts.”

The man across the table interrupts him, “Give me a break!”

Charlie shifts his attention to his dad. “What? Am I wrong? We won’t even get started on the witches.”

The table erupts into laughter, and Charlie’s dad scrubs his hand down his face and shakes his head. A few of the other guests ask questions about Charlie’s hometown, but Adrian’s interrogation isn’t complete. His voice booms over the noise, drowning every other question out.

“So did most of your people have to travel here, Charlie?”

“Nah,” he laughs from behind his drink. “My parents, siblings and cousin flew out. A few friends. Most of the guests are people I’ve met while living here. My job exposes me to pretty much everyone, and what can I say? I’m a likable guy.”

With that, the man I now know is his dad raises his glass and says, “Here, here!”

Charlie returns to his conversation with his father, and Adrian doesn’t question him further. We order our food, and I spend most of the night chatting with Blake as Adrian quietly observes the table.

By the end of the evening, I start to wonder if maybe I am reading too much into the questions. Maybe Adrian was trying to find common ground with Charlie. Maybe he… I don’t know. Maybe this is more about my nerves than this strange energy, but whenever I look at Adrian, his jaw is tight, and his brows are ever so slightly pressed together, a faint line forming between them.

Sharks

Adrian

“You owe me for this, man.” Ronan’s voice drips with annoyance over the speaker on my phone, and I laugh. In the background, I hear Mildred’s equally unimpressed growl.

“What did you do to her?” I say between chuckles. “She’s a sweet cat.”

“Libby, I swear to God. This fucking thing hates me.”

“A pussy that doesn’t like you?” I taunt. “Yeah, thatneverhappens.”

“Fuck you. Pussies love me — ah! Fuck!” In the background, I hear a hiss followed by a shrill half-scream. “That’s it. I’m outta here. It can starve.”

“Sounds like you’re the pussy.”

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