Page 171 of Chalk Outline
Winona Bishop
nothing feels the same — sevenlies
The skies are an enchanting mix of blue and champagne. Still bright, but with a hint of the afternoon sun peeking through the puffy clouds. Trees overhang the plunge pool, encircling it like a fence. The misty sprays of the waterfall are persistent, calming, and burbling.
My fingers strum the wind as I take deep breaths, letting myself enjoy this.
For the first time in a while, nothing crosses my mind.
I’m simply happy.
A smile spreads across my lips, curves around my cheeks, and I feel it reaching my eyes.
I didn’t have to bury my husband far away, along with endless memories. I found him instead. I knew that if I signed this contract and came here, he would come after me if he were alive.
I pull myself up from the towel, stretching my arms above my head. My eyes fall on the duffel bag and widen at the moth resting on top.
My lips part in shock.
No way.
Black witch moth.
I glance from side to side as if the forest has eyes and ears, and it’s just as excited about this as I am. I’m about to shout Reeve’s name when a loud grunt echoes from afar.
My words catch in my throat and are swallowed with a hard gulp.
I roll onto my stomach immediately, kicking my feet to get up. I grab the rifle and clutch it tightly as I press the butt to the crook of my shoulder.
It could be the bear throwing a tantrum. He’s quite sassy when he wants to be.
But most importantly, where is Reeve?
He said he’d be right back, and it’s been a solid fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, since he left.
I cock the rifle.
Maybe he wants to play another game?
Reeve.
I swear, if he makes another trap just to mess with me more, I’m going to unleash all my ninja moves on him, mainly because it’s fun and sexy when he looks up at me while his strong body is between my thighs.
I stop beside several trees with thick trunks and look up into their branches. A sudden chill rakes through me as the treetops turn out to be empty one by one. A shadow spreads across the forest, darkening everything as the sky loses some of the magic it had moments ago.
Reeve is capable of anything, but something feels off.
It’s one thing to play games, but another to leave his radio tossed on the ground. I bend down to pick it up and find a Joker card underneath.
Is that a sick joke?
I replay the conversation with Grandma from the day I signed the contract.
She places a deck of cards on the desk, facing downward.
“Let’s play a game I like to call tricks and punishments. Pick one,” she prompts.
My finger hovers over the cards until one feels right, then I pull it out.
