Page 80 of Beneath the Desert Bloom
Or rather, not like the version of her he remembered. Her hair was a tangled halo, her tank top clung to skin still kissed raw by sweat and memory, and she had the bite, faint but impossible to miss, marking the curve where neck met shoulder. A half-lidded kind of wildness hung in her expression, like she hadn’t come all the way down from wherever she’d been.
Eli’s gaze flicked to her throat, then back up, eyes narrowing. “You look—uh—are you okay?”
“Define okay,” Nora said flatly, taking a sip of her coffee and stepping back to let him in.
He hesitated.
Maybe it was the air. The smell of sage and something darker, something a little too warm. Maybe it was the silence of the house, which didn’t feel empty so much as watchful.
Or maybe it was the fact that she didn’t smile, didn’t greet him with that strained politeness he’d always mistaken for affection.
She let the door close behind him.
Eli hovered just inside, taking in the clutter, the open notebooks, the half-burnt candle ends, the bundle of herbs thathad clearly been lit too many times. The place smelled like a shrine and a crime scene.
“I tried calling,” he said. “Texting. Emailing. You haven’t replied in days.”
“I’ve been busy,” she said, heading into the kitchen. She didn’t offer him coffee. “Also, spotty service. The Mojave doesn’t prioritize 5G.”
He frowned. “I know we’re… not together, but I was worried. You said you’d be out here alone. Then nothing. What was I supposed to think?”
“That I was finally enjoying my own company?”
He sighed. “Nora—”
“No, Eli.” She turned to face him fully now, leaning back against the counter, mug pressed to her chest like a shield. “You thought I needed saving. Admit it.”
“I thought maybe you were spiraling,” he said carefully, hands up like he was talking someone off a ledge. “You ghost your committee, disappear into the desert, stop responding to anyone—”
“I was writing.”
“That’s not what it sounded like in your last message. You said you were stuck.”
Eli’s voice lowered.
“Look, I drove out here because I was afraid I’d find your car abandoned on the side of the road. Or get a call from the police. Or see your name in a headline.”
He looked at her. Not angry now, just shaken.
“I didn’t know if you were hurt, or lost, or… just gone. That scared me, Nora.”
For a moment, she hesitated. Something flickered behind her eyes.
Then it was gone.
“You’re different,” he said.
“Yeah,” she replied, setting the mug down. “I know.”
There was a long silence.
And then, inevitably, his eyes flicked back to the bite.
“That looks… infected.”
She laughed. Short and sharp. “It’s not.”
“What happened?”
