Page 50 of Graves

I finally get the bag open. My fingers tremble as I take out a piece of dried turkey breast and give it to Pixie, who immediately disappears around the corner with it.

I try to pull myself together, but I can’t. I’m trapped. Like in a fever dream. The panic at the supermarket still clings to me like a ghost and I’m off balance.

Perhaps a cup of tea will help calm me down.

I put the kettle on. The glass pitcher is still dirty from yesterday, so I wash it by hand. The water is almost boiling hot, but I’ve already lost all touch with reality.

With everything I do, I feel Luke’s presence that I don’t even dare turn around to check if he’s really there or just in my head.

I feel him.

He’s standing right behind me.

My muscles tense. My hands tingle. Part of me already knows the escape, tempting me toward the darkest corners of myself. It would be so easy to turn this overwhelming feeling into physical pain—anything to give my brain a break. But I forbid it, because I know this thought is poison. And yet every fiber of my body craves it.

My breath stutters as I fill the glass pitcher with scalding water. The moment I set the kettle down, Luke laughs.

It’s so close I spin around in shock, knocking the glass pitcher off the counter. It smashes against the black ceramic floor and explodes into a thousand shards. Water spills everywhere. Luckily, I’m still wearing shoes.

I can’t breathe and my whole body locks up. In the back of my mind, I hear Luke’s mocking laugh.

See! You can’t even do that! Should’ve let me handle it!

With my head hanging and fists clenched, I stand there, unable to move.

“Wait, I’ll help you,” a voice suddenly says.

It’s Aran. He throws three towels on the floor.

“Everything okay?”

I stare at the white towels soaking up about half a gallon of water like I’m paralyzed. Aran waits for an answer and stares at me sideways.

Seized by guilt, I open my mouth in horror and search for the right words.

“I’m so fucking clumsy. I’m sorry.” My voice shakes and my body trembles. “I’ll buy a new pitcher, of course. Shit! That’s why I’m here and not in Astoria, where I should be. I’m a failure who’s hiding here pretending everything’s fine. But now you’re back and I can’t hide it anymore. I’m so sorry…”

“Hey, hey, hey!” Aran grabs my upper arms with both hands and yanks me out of the spiral. “It’s okay. Calm down. It’s just glass.”

His warmth flows through me, pushing back the pressure and that terrible prickling under my skin that’s still screaming for an outlet.

Back then, I only knew one way to find relief—with a razor blade. Now it’s his sapphire-blue eyes and that honest, slightly worried look that drags me back to reality.

Luke screams in the back of my head.

You can’t trust that guy!

You can’t trust anyone.

Only me!

“Look at me,” Aran says softly, reeling me back with a gentle tug. “Nothing happened. It’s just water. And some broken glass. No reason to panic. Did it cut you?”

Before I can react, he checks my hands for blood. Feeling his warm skin on mine hits me like a pressure wave, blasting away every thought of Luke in a rush of heat.

“Looks fine.”

It hits me: Aran’s closeness steadies me and makes me feel like everything is okay. It’s been so fucking long since I’ve been this close to a man.