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Only… that’s not entirely true. Because now, besides the cloying worry and constant anxiety over Daniel, there’s another little pinch of pain in my chest. It’s one that would have me stay with him, say the hell with it all and just move in with him like I’m almost certain he’d prefer.

I know it’s crazy, and I know I can’t give in to it. Not now. Not so soon. But that doesn’t stop it from hurting as we clean ourselves up and straighten our clothes as best we can.

It doesn’t stop hurting as he walks me out of the office and to the elevator. And just before I go, as the doors slide shut between us, there’s a moment where I can see all of that pain and uncertainty echoed back on his face, too.

Elias and I fall into a new pattern over the next week.

I work, he works, we see each other in the evenings most days. We flirt over text. We meet for lunch and have a very ill-advised makeout session in the alley behind the bookshop that nearly gets us caught by my boss. He comes to stay at my apartment and we find out the hard way that my tiny shower-tub combo is barely big enough for two, and absolutely not big enough for two plus tentacles. Despite finding that out, we somehow make it work in an awkward tangle of limbs and laughter as we collapse naked and panting into the tub, vowing to never take the pool in Elias’s bedroom for granted again.

And the next morning, when he cooks me breakfast in my little kitchen and we drink coffee on the couch together, snuggled up and just enjoying each other’s company, it fills my heart up with a quiet, aching sort of peace.

It’s… normal. This is what normal people do.

I should be happy with it. I really should. And most of me is happy with it. Almost all of me, really, except the small deranged voice in the back of my head and the persistent twinge in the center of my chest that keeps drifting away from me, daydreaming, wondering what my kraken is up to and unconsciously counting down the hours and minutes until I see him again.

I’d call myself smitten, say that I’ve got a wild crush on Elias Morgan, but I know better than that. This isn’t a crush. I’m not just smitten.

Still, as the week goes on, some of that same edge of discontent worms its way in. It’s there when we say goodbye, when we face a night apart. And even though Elias has kept a tighter leash on himself since our little tryst in his office and not let it show like it did when he was fucking me, I know he feels it, too.

Despite that inner turmoil, the week passes. I’m just finishing up a shift, ready for three whole days away from work.

Getting ready to leave the bookstore, a fine misty rain is falling over the city, and a chill immediately settles into my bones as I glance out the front window of the shop. The thought of the walk to the bus stop, the wait in the cold, the long ride home, all of it makes me long for the luxury of a warm car and a ride to Elias’s place.

This is what you asked for, Nora,I remind myself as I put on my jacket.This is what you wanted. Distance. Normalcy.

Not that it stops me from dreaming about Elias’s enormous bed and his saltwater pool as I say goodbye to my coworkers who are closing and leave the shop. It doesn’t stop me from missing him as I huddle underneath the bus shelter and shiver a little in the cold.

I’m so wrapped up in those thoughts that I take a few seconds to hear the approaching footsteps, and a couple more to realize that a tall figure in a dark coat has come to stand right in front of me.

Every single hair on my body stands on end, and even before I look up, I already know what I’m going to find.

The face of my nightmares, staring back at me.

Daniel smiles. “Hello, Nora.”

30

Elias

It’s been a hell of a week.

All the rumblings being stirred up by the Paranormal Oversight Committee are coming back on our community in spades, and Morgan-Blair hasn’t been unaffected. The meeting I had with Thoreson and Rutelege seems to be some sort of canary in the coal mine, and I’ve spent this past week navigating several similar conversations with other important partners.

All of it sits uneasily on my shoulders, but that’s not my only ache right now.

Seattle is cold and rainy tonight, and as I stand and look out my office windows, I can’t help but let my thoughts drift to Nora. The city lights dance and distort behind the rain-speckled glass, but I keep staring and staring like maybe if I look hard enough I’ll be able to see her.

It’s only a few minutes after the end of her shift, and we don’t have plans to meet tonight, but I can’t stop thinking of her out walking in the rain and the darkness. The image of her hood pulled high and her shoulders stooped against the cold makes my hand twitch toward the phone in my pocket.

Just calling to offer her a ride home wouldn’t be crossing a line, would it?

Gods above, I don’t even know anymore.

It’s been damned near impossible to keep myself on a leash these past few days.

I want to give Nora what she needs. If that’s time and space, so be it, but I also can’t do anything about the fact that holding back has been agony. I want Nora’s nights and her mornings. I want every quiet moment in between.

It’s been there, right there, since the first moment I saw her—the recognition of the other piece of my soul walking around somewhere in the world. Every moment I’ve spent with her since has made it abundantly clear.