Page 3 of Feverburn

“This place is beautiful! The pictures didn’t do justice,” I said, looking around with a relieved grin. Slants of sunshine lit up the rich wood beneath our feet. “Is this flooring original?”

“Yes, it is. It was a pharmacy in the late 1800s before my grandpa bought it in the 1950s. My brothers inherited the store, and I got the loft.”

She showed me the bathroom painted a dreamy lilac with a clawfoot tub and told me all about rescuing it from a landfill and how she found the vintage crystal door handles at estate sales.

Pulling the keys and lease agreement from her tote bag, she tipped her chin with a bashful smile. “Okay, I have to address the elephant in the room. Kaylee told us all about the love triangle back in Boston. That guy was a complete douche.”

“Yeah, definitely not the kind of guy I thought I was dating.” I fiddled with the keys, wondering where this conversation was going.

“But I liked how you banded together and didn’t fight over him. That’s badass.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

“Oh, and I love that you named the coffee shop Silver Springs. That’s my favorite Fleetwood Mac song.”

I shrugged, feeling exposed. “It’s about a scorned woman, so it was fitting.”

“Scorned brew! I love it! We need some excitement here. Come to think of it, that’s not true, but I like chaos!” She let out a mischievous giggle while opening the door to leave. On second thought, she turned around, her pointer finger lifted. “Oh, and my oldest brother Carson is the owner now. He’s away fishing today since the store is closed on Sundays.”

“Carson. Got it.” I nodded, committing it to memory.

“He doesn’t talk much, so if he seems like a grouch, I promise it’s not personal. His employees use the front door because he hates people coming back to his office.”

“Oh, okay,” I stammered.

“But you come and go as much as you want since this is your space,” she insisted. She went to leave again but turned around. “Oh, and he has a neurotic husky that sometimes loses his shit and howls like someone is murdering him, but I promise he’s fine.”

I chuckled, imagining it. “Thanks for the heads up.”

I never thought I’d live in a small town like Pine Bluff, but I jumped when the opportunity presented itself. I wanted to escape from everything that clung to my life in Boston. I was still trying to stitch myself together from dull heartache, the sting of betrayal, and the emptiness of a failed career.

After Frankie left, I fetched cleaning supplies from my car and turned on an audiobook to fill my mind. She left the place spotless, but I wanted to clean it myself. Part of my ritual to bless my new space was scrubbing the floors and walls. On all fours, I wrung out my rag, letting the rosemary water spill from its fibers before I slapped it on the floor with a loud thwack. The familiar scent tickled my brain like a simple comfort in such new terrain.

After cleaning most of the day, I nailed a horseshoe and a Shela-ni-gig over my front door to protect my space. I filled a small leather pouch with black salt, mugwort, juniper berries, and dragon’s blood resin. Adding some obsidian, black tourmaline, lodestone, and chiastolite crystals to the bag, I tied it nine times and hung it on the door hinge. Then, I traced protection symbols on either side of my door with my favorite oil my mom made for me.

After that, I found the small Crockpot I jokingly called my electric cauldron. Filling it with water, I plunked in cut lemons for purification, oranges for wealth, and rosemary for good luck. Finishing off, I threw in some cinnamon sticks for protection, cloves to ward off ill intent, and bay leaves for good health. The simmer pot filled my loft with spicy goodness as it burbled the rest of the afternoon while I brought up boxes from the U-Haul trailer. I wanted to move everything but reluctantly accepted Harley’s offer to help move the furniture.

Now, in the glow of golden hour, I waited in the back lot for Kaylee and Harley to arrive. When she hopped out of the truck, we both squealed each other’s names and all but pranced to each other like a bunch of dorks. I held her tight, wiggling us in the hug. She was short like me, barely five foot three if I had to guess. She was one of the few people I had met who was as pale as me, but her long, smooth blonde hair was the opposite of my loose, auburn curls.

From where I hugged Kaylee, I watched Harley hop out of the truck over her shoulder. A slight twinge of jealousy flooded me. Tyler burned us, but she was already moving on with someone else. Someone, who I might add, was sexy as hell.

I reasoned with myself that it made sense that I found Harley attractive. Given the circumstances we met, it was apparent we had the same taste in men. But where Tyler was polished and preppy, Harley was all manly and rugged. I couldn’t look at him for too long because I’d swoon. I respected Kaylee too much to do something like that.

“Hey Rosie, welcome to Pine Bluff,” his deep voice rumbled.

“Hey, thanks again for helping me.” I avoided eye contact, opening the U-Haul wider for him.

“Don’t mention it,” he said. “Dane should be here any moment.”

“Who’s Dane?” I asked.

“His bestie. Just a warning, he’s a handsy Leo who will totally hit on you because you’re fucking gorgeous. He has no sense of stranger danger. Treat him like a dementia patient, and he’ll go away,” Kaylee said, looking around for Dane’s arrival.

I rolled my lips into my mouth, trying not to giggle. “Thanks for helping me find this place. Housing around here is tough.”

She batted the air. “No worries. Remember how you helped me pack up all my crystals to move here? All that fucking bubble wrap?”

A man approached us, cutting off our small talk. He wore a baseball cap that shrouded his eyes, so all I could make out was scruff and tan skin with tons of tattoos. He was jacked, with a thick neck, almost like a bulldog.

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