Page 62 of Pyre

“Tomorrow,” he said. “Instead of going straight to your hotel. Do you want to come over?”

“And do what?”

“Well, hopefully more of this,” he added with a cheeky grin, pinching her bare hip before shrugging. “I don’t know. Nothing specific. I could show you around my place, maybe we could watch a movie or go to the park or something? There’s a park like six minutes from my apartment with a lake and a nearby library. You’re buying all your books, right? It would be cheaper to get a library card.”

“I don’t do well with physical books. They tend to get beat up.”

She had used one to smack a thermy, a grave offense.

“You can borrow ebooks that you download to your e-reader.”

She studied him, trying to discern his intentions. He smiled, his hand creeping up her spine, fingers dragging lightly over her skin before settling at the nape of her neck. His touch was warm, familiar, dangerous in how easily she leaned into it.

“No ill-intentions,” he said softly. “I just want to spend more time with you.”

She wanted to say no. She should say no. But she couldn’t. Instead, she let herself sink into the warmth of him, into the steady rhythm of his breathing, into the illusion that this could be something easy.

Jonah drifted to sleep, his arm slung over her waist, his breath slow and even against her shoulder. She stayed awake, staring up at the ceiling, her chest tight.

The lingering warmth faded into an emptiness that mirrored the hollowness in her chest. With every passing moment, theintimacy of the night grew more distant, replaced by a clarity that chilled her. Slowly, she gathered the scattered pieces of her clothes. After a long, aching pause filled with unspoken apologies and the weight of her choices, Ruby slipped out into the corridor.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

MOST OF THEpeople Ruby cared about were here, buried beneath these stones. To Ruby, the cemetery wasn’t a place of sadness; it was a reminder that all things—pain, grief, longing—eventually came to an end. The inevitability of it soothed her in a way little else could. Even Ruby, if she so chose, could someday find peace here, in the impartial embrace of death. Without a limit to her time, the weight of eternity sat heavy on her shoulders.

The breeze swept cool across her cheeks, grounding her in the moment as she sat cross-legged on the grass. The cemetery was empty except for her, and the sky above was ablaze with color—orange and pink streaks bleeding into the horizon as the sun dipped behind the headstone in front of her. She drew in the scent of evergreen trees lining the lot, their tall shadows stretching as the evening settled in.

A throat cleared behind her, pulling her out of her thoughts. Slowly, she turned and found Jonah standing a few feet away, a bouquet of yellow flowers clutched awkwardly in his arms. He looked like he hadn’t slept, dark circles carved beneath his eyes, stubble growing along his chin. His jeans and button-up were a surprising upgrade from his usual work-worn clothes.

“Hi,” she said, breaking the tension that hummed between them. “How was your night?”

Jonah gave her a miserable smile, the corners of his mouth twitching as though he couldn’t decide whether to smile orremain serious. His eyebrows pulled together, betraying the weight he carried. “Could’ve been better,” he admitted, “Woke up to find out the pretty girl I’d spent the night with had checked out of the hotel and come back to Denver alone.”

She turned back to the grave in front of her, her fingers idly tracing the worn name etched into the stone. “Sounds like she wanted some time alone.”

“Probably.” Jonah knelt beside her, setting the flowers down gently. “I’ve never been good at leaving things alone.”

She snorted, her lips curling into a wry smile. “Didn’t seem to have a problem with it a few years ago.”

Jonah nodded slowly, his eyes studying her reactions, cautious like she was an animal on the verge of striking. Growing up in the South in the ’60s, Ruby had been taught to be polite, to be pleasant, to keep things civil no matter how badly they hurt. Waking up in the 21st century, grief had grown into bitterness, the sharpness of her tongue instinctual.

She shifted, turning to face him directly, her knees pressing into the cool grass. “Why did you leave, Jonah? Why didn’t you ever contact me?”

His adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He drew in a breath, releasing it in a slow exhale. “My sister died the night before I cut contact. A thermophile killed her. She tried calling me that night, left a few voicemails, but I didn’t see them until the next morning. I was furious. Not at you—at myself. At the TCA for not protecting her. At the world for letting thermophiles exist.”

Ruby flinched at the words, but she kept her face impassive, locking her emotions behind a wall.

“Not you, Rubes,” he added quickly, catching the flicker in her eyes. “Never you. And not really thermophiles, either, at least not once I understood. It didn’t take long to see it was an infection, not a choice.” He sighed, running a hand throughhis hair. “I was going to leave. I couldn’t handle it—knowing I couldn’t help them. But the TCA knew about our friendship. And I was an agent, I knew too much for them to just let me loose. Lucas suggested I focus on capturing humans. I thought about reaching out to you, so many times. I couldn’t. Not after hearing your voicemails.” He glanced away. “I failed my sister that night, and I failed you too. I didn’t deserve to reach out.”

The wind picked up, carrying strands of Ruby’s hair across her face. She tucked them behind her ear. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

Jonah’s gaze fell to the grass between them.

“I understand why you thought you couldn’t reach out, given…” She gestured to her sunglasses. “But if we’re going to work together, if we’re going to be…whatever we end up being.I need to know—do you resent me for being a thermophile? And do you still believe I killed those people?”

“No.” His voice was steady, leaving no room for doubt. “I called Lucas after I left the antique store last week. It’s not that I didn’t believe you, I just...”

“Had to be sure?”

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