Page 27 of Roaring Heat
I glance toward the forest at the edge of town. Sunlight filters through the trees lining the road in fractured shafts, painting uneven bursts across the gravel. Movement stirs in the brush along the shoulder. Rabbits dart, wings beat the air, and something heavier crashes quietly out of sight. Each soundsharpens my nerves, setting me more on edge than I want to admit.
She’s tangled in this now. Whatever force stirs beneath the forest floor, whatever current hums through the ley lines, they’ve wrapped themselves around her presence. And the idea of her getting dragged deeper into something we don’t yet understand grips my chest like a fist.
I don’t want distance between us, but I know she needs it. She needs time to process whatever’s taken root between us. And I need time to find answers—answers only my brothers might have.
I turn away from the empty parking spot and head for the garage on foot. My boots scuff against the pavement, the rhythm steady, grounding me. The town noise fades as I cut across the side alley and make my way down a path flanked by tall firs. Sunlight filters through the canopy above, dappling the road in uneven patches of gold. The walk gives me time to think, time to calm the roar still echoing in my chest.
I don’t want anyone seeing the storm behind my eyes, not yet. Not until I’ve sorted through the questions tangled up inside me. What just happened between us. What it means for her. For me. For this place.
As I reach the shop, the bay doors are already rolled open, sunlight glinting off scattered tools and the rust-streaked Bronco my brother still insists on calling his official sheriff's vehicle. The metallic clink of something falling echoes faintly inside. The scent of oil and the heat radiating off the metal bring a wave of familiarity that momentarily calms the current churning in my gut. I let it anchor me as I round the building in search of my brothers.
At first glance, the place looks empty, too still. But a voice carries around the corner, low and clipped. I follow it to find Sawyer leaning against the back wall, speaking into his radiowith a tone that tells me something’s already on his mind. Eli stands nearby, coffee in hand, eyes tracking the forest canopy as if waiting for the trees to whisper back.
"Thought I'd find you two hiding from real work," I say, stepping into view.
Sawyer glances at me, lowering the radio, grease smudged across his cheek, one brow arching in that way he does when he's both amused and already two steps ahead of the conversation. "You look like a man trying to decide if he's drowning or already sunk."
"That obvious?"
"Obvious enough." Sawyer disappears under the hood of his ancient patrol vehicle. "Bronco’s shot to hell, and she looks like she’s in better shape than you."
Eli brushes his hands on a rag. "You took her to the Rusty Fork in broad daylight? Whole town’s buzzing. If you don’t spill it, we’ll get it from Elsie before noon."
"Mary too," Sawyer mutters. "Bet she’s already drafted her version."
I cross my arms and lean back against the truck, but the tightness wound between my shoulder blades refuses to loosen. The tension winds tight through every muscle, taut and vibrating with the pressure of what I can't say out loud, fed by the memory of her lips and the certainty that none of this is coincidence.
"Anabeth triggered a spike last night. A big one. The moment we were together, the ley lines reacted. Violently."
Sawyer straightens, shoulders locking tight as if bracing against something he can’t see yet. The atmosphere thickens around us, pressing in close, making the hairs on my arms lift like static before a lightning strike.
"You’re sure?"
"Positive. Full-scale surge. Not random. It synced with us."
Eli whistles. "Hell."
"It nearly ruptured the ley lines," I say. "There was nothing quiet about it."
Sawyer slams the hood. "So she’s not just sensitive to the lines. She’s tied to them. Or pulling them."
"More than that. It’s like they were waiting for her."
Eli shakes his head slowly. "You think she’s doing it on purpose?"
"No. She looked as shocked as I felt. But that doesn’t mean she’s safe."
Sawyer rubs his temples. "Bringing her deeper could destabilize everything. You know that."
"And sending her away without answers? That’s worse. She’s curious. She’s smart. If I don’t help her understand this, she’ll chase it alone."
Eli’s watching me with narrowed eyes. "Would you keep her, even if it put us all at risk?"
I meet his gaze. "Yes."
The silence that follows stretches, weighted and expectant, like the forest itself is listening for my answer. My pulse drums in my ears, a slow, insistent rhythm that makes the stillness feel louder. A cold bead of sweat trails down my spine, and I can’t tell if it’s from fear or something closer to awe. The air is too still, too aware. I glance at my brothers, but neither speaks. The truth I just confessed hangs between us like a blade suspended mid-fall, and I realize the forest isn't the only thing waiting. So am I.
Sawyer’s gaze drops to the cracked earth. A muscle in his jaw jumps once, sharp and tense, before his mouth hardens into a flat line. His expression holds, unreadable but tight with something that pulses just beneath the surface. Is it warning or worry? I can't tell.
