Page 45 of Midnights
Raven
Is this what a hangover feels like? I don’t feel completely awful, just… sluggish. My body’s heavier than it should be, and my thoughts are tangled in a haze.
But that could just as easily be because of the dream I just had. I close my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments. Misty trees. A dense forest. And Kane.
I remember his face, the way his hand reached for mine, and how the air was crackling between us as if the world itself was holding its breath.
I shiver, rubbing my arms as I force my eyes open. The details slip away like smoke through my fingers. The more I try to grasp them, the faster they vanish.
I find Rachel sprawled across the bed, half-dressed and half-buried under the blankets. Her hair is a wild mess and she has one arm flopped over the edge of the bed like she passed out mid-sentence.
Yeah, that checks out.
She’ll be out for a few more hours.
I reach for my phone, squinting at the screen.6:13 A.M.Ugh. I think about going back to sleep, but I already know I won’t. I’m not used to sleeping in and my mind is too restless to even try.
Rolling out of bed as quietly as possible, I grab a hoodie and slip outside to the front porch. The morning air is crisp, and it bites at my skin just enough to wake me up. I don't know how to explain it, but it smells different here. I inhale deeply, letting it ground me as I settle into one of the chairs, tucking my legs under me.
I pull out my phone and flip through a few emails. There’s only one pressing thing on my list, one last work-related task I’ve allowed on this trip.And I’m determined to keep it that way.
I fire off a quick message to my assistant, double-checking that she’s got everything handled. More importantly, I make sure Louie and all my plants are still alive. That’s the real priority here. The rest can wait.
Honestly, I’m basically an old lady trapped in the body of a stripper. Just give me my cat, my plants, and a book, and I’ll happily avoid human interaction for days.
I smile, because I can totally picture Louie sprawled in his usual sunspot, likely plotting his next dramatic display of disdain for my absence.I miss that furry little creature.
I lean back against the chair, letting the cool breeze chase away the last remnants of sleep and start to open the email I was looking for when it hits me like a ton of bricks. I went to a pub last night. I got drunk. And made out with a hot man. Aninfuriatinglyhot Scottish man, who drove us home because we got lost when my phone died.
And because I seem to be on a roll with questionable life choices, I also gave said annoyingman myphone number!
“UGGHHH.” I groan into my hands while my body decides thatnowis the perfect time to flood with warmth. Seriously? Now?
Maybehe forgot I gave it to him. I mean, he was probably just as drunk as I was…right? And besides, he might not be able to find it in his contacts.That’ll teach him to call me Princess.
I roll my eyes at myself.Yeah, sure.Like a man that full of himself wouldn’t be able to scroll through his contacts and figure out which one was mine.
Deep down, though, I know better. He probably rememberseverything.
But for now, I’ll cling to theveryslim hope that he was too distracted, or too drunk, to put the pieces together.
I sigh and force my focus back on my phone, attempting to drown myself in the one thing that always helps. Work. Prioritizing tasks. Review deadlines. Confirm Louie’s care.
Yet, no matter how hard I try, my thoughtskeepdrifting back to Kane. His hands. His voice. The way he kissed me.
Damn it.
Nope. Not doing this.
My stomach growls loud enough to shake me back into reality. Right. We didn’t really eat dinner last night. It's just low blood sugar, not Kane-induced hysteria.
I toss my phone onto the table, email completely forgotten, and stand. If Rachel’s going to sleep in, the least I can do is grab us something to eat.I need to walk off some of this restless energy anyway.
I pull on some leggings and slip into my Converse, giving myself a once-over in the mirror. I'm presentable enough to step outside without scaring small children.Good enough.
If I’m lucky, she'll be awake by the time I get back, and we can figure out our plans for the day.Preferably, plans that don’t involve men.
I grab a notepad off the nightstand and scribble a quick note, leaving it on her phone.
