Page 3

ALIX

I walk in a daze through Lehigh Valley International Airport, a blue Gatorade clutched in one hand and the handle of my violin case in the other. I’m hungover, starving, and more exhausted than I’ve ever been in my life.

I hate drunk me for thinking this was a good idea. That bitch is trying to kill me.

There’s no chance I’m going to find an Uber willing to drive me ninety minutes into the boonies, so I bite the bullet and go in search of the rental car desk.

By the time I find Enterprise , hand over my credit card, and retrieve my shiny silver sedan, it’s 8:03PM. My stomach churns with hunger, but I don’t stop, even to drive through McDonald’s. Between the cost of the car and my absurdly expensive plane ticket, I now have exactly $159 in my only bank account that Ryan doesn’t have access to. It’s not even enough to cover the minimum payment on my credit card.

A fresh wave of depression washes over me, and heat pricks at the backs of my eyes.

What the fuck was I thinking coming out here?

The hum of the engine is the only sound as I speed down the nearly deserted highway. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting an eerie glow through the windshield. The darkness and silence of the empty road make me feel even lonelier than I already did.

I wanted to escape my life, but this doesn’t feel like freedom; it feels like exile.

I clench my hands until my knuckles turn white and swallow the lump in my throat. If I was driving to Nana’s house to see her, maybe things wouldn’t feel so bleak. I wish I could lie on her couch like I did as a teenager and tell her about my shitty day. I wish I could tell her about Ryan and Jenna and hear her curse them out far worse than I have.

I still will tell her . Nana isn’t dead, she’s just…getting old, I guess.

As I pull off the highway, I spot the familiar “Danger” signs. A couple of miles further, more warnings appear:

“Underground Fire.”

“Warning: Unstable Ground.”

“Road Closed—Seek Alternate Route.”

I ignore them and continue into the empty town square.

I’m used to seeing the occasional condemned farm house or abandoned car on the side of the road, but Ironhill is on a whole other level. Most of the buildings have either been demolished or fallen on their own, but the occasional dilapidated house remains. There are 80s and 90s-era cars rusting in driveways, and even an abandoned gas station that advertises $0.62 per gallon. If only.

Nana’s house is one of the very last homes standing that looks lived in and taken care of. She has a huge garden, which flourishes despite the contamination of the soil.

I pull up to the house and immediately feel less alone.

The air is crisp and dry, the heat of summer already turning into fall. The sound of crickets fills the air, and I suck in a breath. The air should be contaminated due to the mining fire, but it smells fresh to me. Far better than the city air in Chicago, at least. I close my eyes and savor the moment.

It’s just so quiet here.

My phone rings loudly. I yank it out of my pocket without even processing the name flashing on the screen. “Ryan?”

“What?” Mom says. “No, it’s me.”

I press my palm to my forehead as my heartbeat slows back to normal. “Oh. Hi, Mom. Sorry, what’s up?”

“I was just calling to make sure you made it to the house. I thought I’d hear from you hours ago, but I know how the cell service is there.”

“Sorry,” I repeat, even though there’s nothing to be sorry for. “I’m here. Just pulled up to the house, actually.”

“What?” she yells as if she’s standing on the opposite side of a football field. I repeat myself, even as the line crackles. “Oh, good,” she says, her voice sounding slightly far away. “I’ll wait for you to head inside. I want to know what we’re dealing with.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know how your Nana is. Her house is always a disaster, I just want to know how bad it is.”

While she talks, I walk across the grass and up the front porch steps. The inside of the house is dark, but the porch light is on. The yellow paint shines brightly in the warm glow, and a crowd of moths and June bugs hover around the hanging lamp.

“I’m sure it’s not bad, Mom.”

She scoffs. “Maybe not by your standards.”

I bite my tongue. She’s right, actually. I love Nana’s house. It’s not dirty; it’s just eclectic. If it wasn’t built on top of the fucking hellmouth, I’d probably want to live right next door.

I hold the phone between my shoulder and ear as I bend to shift the flower pot beside the welcome mat. The hidden key is exactly where I expect it to be, and I let myself inside. Immediately, the familiar scent hits me—cinnamon, oil paint, and lemon Pledge .

I flick on the hall light and smile.

The front door opens into a small entryway. The stairs to the second level are directly ahead, with the living room to the right and the dining room to the left. The dining table is covered in hundreds of books, stacked in messy, teetering piles.

I reach for the nearest book.

Nana’s publisher must be changing the covers on her series to coincide with the new movies, because this is the first time I’ve seen this edition of A Kingdom of Thorns. The cover features a blond man with pointed ears, standing shirtless in a field of wild roses. Sighing, I put the book down.

“Well?” Mom demands.

I jump, having almost forgotten she was on the line. Her voice is clearer now that I’ve moved to the kitchen, and the line sounds almost normal. “Sorry. It looks fine, Mom. Just like it usually does.”

She sighs. “That’s what I was afraid of. We’re never going to have the time to go through all her stuff.”

“What’s the rush?”

“I’ve been wanting to get the house sold for years. It’s dangerous. I don’t know why she insists on staying there. I don’t want to leave Mom any choice but to move once she feels better.”

“Mmm.”

I cross the kitchen and open the refrigerator as she keeps ranting about selling the house. My heart sinks. There’s almost nothing in here—just a jar of pickles, some ketchup, and a carton of expired eggs. I check the cupboard and it’s not much better.

“Mom,” I interrupt her musing about the house. “When was the last time Nana was home?”

“Um, a few weeks? We’ve been traveling for her book signings, remember?”

Fuck. I close the fridge and sigh. “Okay, sorry, but I have to go. I haven’t eaten all day, and I expected to find something here, but I guess I’ll have to go to the store.”

My dismay must be evident in my voice, because for once, Mom offers something helpful, “Go down to Ted’s.”

“Where?”

The line crackles a bit, and I have to strain to hear her. “Ted’s place. It’s a bar just over the town line. They make great burgers.”

I’m so taken aback by this extremely out of character comment I’m silent for a long second. “Are you sure they’d be open?”

“They haven’t changed their hours in thirty years.”

“Hmm, okay. Thanks.”

“Don’t forget to feed the cat before you go.”

We hang up, and I turn in a circle searching for Nana’s cat, Sushi. He hasn’t appeared since I’ve been here, but that’s not exactly unusual. He’s probably chasing mice in the attic.

I quickly refill the food and water bowls, then turn around and retrace my steps to the door. I don’t really have the money to eat out right now, but my stomach isn’t giving me any choice. I only hope my mother is right and this mysterious Ted’s is still open.

On my way to the car, something glittering catches my eye. I pause for a moment to glance again at the books on the table.

On top of the nearest stack is a large gold and ruby locket, the chain curled beneath the pendent.

This is Nana’s locket.

When I was younger, she wore it every day, and still brings it out for special occasions even now. Why would she leave it here where it could easily get misplaced? Maybe Nana’s memory is really starting to fracture and she forgot she left it here?

I pick up the locket and the blond man on the book cover is revealed once again. It’s not a photo, as I first thought—it’s a shockingly realistic drawing.

The man is almost unnervingly handsome, his smirk giving the impression that he’s admiring the person watching him. But it’s his pale blue eyes that unsettle me most.

They look alive.

A nervous shiver travels down my spine as I loop the gold chain around my own neck and tuck the pendant into my T-shirt. The cold metal immediately warms against my skin, as if pulsing with life.

As I turn toward the door, another change on the cover catches my attention. Beneath the familiar title, the new tagline reads:

The Beast is coming.

Ted’s is a small, free-standing one-story brick building with a faded brown roof and a peeling green sign. The parking lot is surprisingly full for a Wednesday night, with at least twenty motorcycles and a handful of rundown cars. Out front, two men and a woman, all wearing leather jackets, are smoking.

I park my car and take a deep breath before getting out. I’m not exactly scared…more like wary. It doesn’t look like the kind of place my mother would be caught dead in. Hell, it looks like the kind of place I will die in, but I’m so hungry I don’t even care.

Inside, I’m immediately hit by the scent of tobacco and fried food. I glance around, taking in the mid-sized room—a long bar on one side, clusters of round wooden tables on the other. At the back, a few pool tables draw a small crowd, while a jukebox in the corner blares an old country song I don’t recognize.

Nearly every table is taken, and all eyes turn toward me. Even the pool players stop to stare.

I look down, double checking that Nana’s necklace is hidden beneath my shirt. This place probably looks rougher than it is, but there’s no need to invite unwanted attention by flashing a five-carat ruby on my chest. Nervously, I pull the hem of my T-shirt down to hide the tiny strip of skin above the waistband of my jeans and brush my curls behind my ears.

The stares linger as I cross the bar and take a seat. Behind the counter, the bartender stops cleaning the glass in his hand and turns to look at me. “Hi, there.”

“Hey. Can I get a menu?”

“Sure.”

He hands me one and proceeds to rattle off a list of specials. He’s cute, I guess, with floppy blond hair and a golden retriever smile. Not that it matters. Even if I had the option, I’m not interested in him. That’s not why I’m looking. It’s more that I've never had the opportunity to look before.

I’ve been with Ryan since I was eighteen, and I’ve never even slept with anyone else. I’ve resolutely not looked at any other man my entire adult life, to the point that I’m not even sure what I find attractive. How sad is that? Maybe I don’t even like what I think I like.

“So, did you want a drink?” the bartender asks.

I shake my head to clear it. “Yeah. I’ll take whatever you have on tap and a cheeseburger. No pickles.”

He walks away, and suddenly I feel lost again. I don’t have anything to do now except sit with my thoughts, and the urge to pull out my phone is almost a compulsion. How did people live with silences before phones?

The downside of coming here is that I probably have decent service now.

It’s getting harder to convince myself that Ryan and Jenna haven’t called because I was on airplane mode all day—or that the reception here is just shit.

They are ignoring me, and the longer I go without hearing from them, the more I start to gaslight myself.

Did I really see what I thought I did?

Did Jenna actually see me? Maybe they don’t even know that I know.

Maybe it wasn’t Ryan but some other guy?

“Oh my God, I’m losing my mind,” I say out loud, putting my head in my hands.

“I doubt that, Peaches.”

The strange voice has a lilt to it—an accent that isn’t from Pennsylvania, let alone the United States. I whip my head toward the speaker, my jaw dropping—literally. I have to consciously close it so I don’t look even crazier than I already do.

I changed my mind: I do know what I find attractive.

Sitting beside me is the most physically gifted man I’ve ever seen. Even seated, he’s tall and his burnt-honey hair is just slightly too long and falls into his face, half obscuring his bright green eyes. Like almost everyone else in here, he’s wearing a leather jacket, but somehow his looks sexy instead of scary. Underneath, he wears a simple white T-shirt, which is thin enough that I can see the shadow of a swirling black tattoo crawling up his chest and the side of his neck.

“What did you say?” I ask, when I remember how to speak.

“I said, I don’t think you’re crazy, Peaches.”

“Peaches?” I ask, raising a skeptical eyebrow. I can’t tell whether I should be offended or not.

He nods at my T-shirt, smirking.

My cheeks heat as I remember what I’m wearing. I didn’t have time to pack in Chicago, so I’m wearing yesterday’s jeans and some cheap Mario Brothers T-shirt from an airport gift shop. The shirt is pink with a picture of Princess Peach. Across my chest, it says “Delicious like peaches and cream.”

That explains the stares.

“Uh, r-right,” I stammer. “Well, that really only proves you wrong. For all you know, I might be certifiably insane.”

He gives me a cocky grin, flashing a set of perfect teeth. “I suppose, but if you are, I think crazy girls are sexy.”

Woah.

The stranger has an aura that screams confidence, and that accent is like phone-sex. My stomach does a weird flip, and I have no idea what to say.

“What’s your name?” the handsome man asks.

“Alix.”

It might be my imagination, but it almost seems like the man relaxes at the sound of my name.

“I’m Daemon.” He holds out his hand for me to shake, and his gaze darkens as he runs his finger over my wedding ring. “Married?”

I snatch my hand back. “Um, sort of. Heading for divorce.”

His green eyes flare back to life. “Did he fuck up?”

I laugh, then for some reason, I confess, “He fucked my best friend.”

It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud, to anyone, and the words seem to hang in the air for a moment, becoming real all at once. I don’t think I’ve really processed what happened until this moment. Like I’ve been in a state of shock for the last twenty-four hours, and only now is it really hitting me.

“What a fucking idiot,” he growls. “If you were my wife…”

He trails off, leaving his sentence hanging. I lean forward, desperate to hear what he was going to say. If I was his wife, then what?

“So is that why you’re here?” he asks instead. “Drowning your troubles?”

“N-not exactly,” I stammer.

I tell him why I’m here. About Nana, and coming back to check on the house for my crazy mom. Even as I speak, I’m one hundred percent sure I’m screwing this up. It’s been ages since anyone flirted with me, and even longer since I tried to flirt back.

Have I forgotten to blink? Kill me.

“You’re staying in Ironhill?” Daemon asks when I’m finished.

“Uh huh…”

“Maybe you can answer a question for me, then.”

“I can try.”

He leans toward me like we’re sharing a secret. “What happened here?”

I cock my head at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“The town—” He waves his hand in the air. “I was led to believe people lived here, but it looks abandoned.”

“Yeah…it’s been that way for years. Haven’t you heard about the mine fire?”

Daemon shakes his head, and I narrow my eyes, looking him up and down again. He’s a little older than me, but he looks about thirty. Thirty-five, at most. Ironhill has been abandoned for decades, long before I was born. It’s not like everyone would know that, but he’s making it sound like he expected the town to still be standing. Weird.

I swivel on my stool so my knee brushes against his. “Sixty or seventy years ago, this was a busy mining town, but then a fire broke out in one of the mines.”

“Ah.” He nods as if that means something to him. “What happened?”

“No one knows how it started, but once the fire got going, they couldn’t put it out. The coal in the mine just kept fueling it, and there was nothing anyone could do to get it under control. The miners and the people in the town tried to get the government involved, but they ignored it for so long that eventually the fire had eaten up the entire mine. It spanned miles, and the ground got incredibly unstable. Sinkholes started opening up, like literal portals to hell, and the entire town suffered from carbon monoxide poisoning.”

He raises one eyebrow. “What happened to them?”

“The people? Most of them survived, but they all left. Thirty years ago or so, the government finally declared the town uninhabitable.”

His lip pulls up in a crooked half-smile. “But your grandmother still lives there?”

“Yeah. The government came to some agreement with the residents that they could stay until they died, but no one else could move in. She’s one of only like ten people still living there.”

“She sounds stubborn. What does she do all day with only ten other people in the whole town?”

“She’s a writer,” I answer, fighting not to let any expression cross my face.

I must fail, because Daemon grins and asks, “You don’t like her books?”

“No, it’s not that. Her books are amazing. I’ve read them so many times I could probably recite them from memory.”

“Then why the frown?”

I sigh. “I guess I’m just not in a happily ever after mood lately. Nana writes these incredible stories about fantasy kingdoms and fated romance. I don’t know…I’ve been in the real world too long to buy into the magic.”

Daemon takes a sip from his drink and nods. “In my experience, Peaches, every world is a bitch in its own way and magic only makes things more complicated.”

I laugh. “I like that. I’m definitely here for a little nihilism.”

He flashes me another grin before finishing his drink in one swallow. “Listen,” he says, leaning even closer so his woodsy masculine scent fills my nose.

Oh, I’m listening.

“Do you think your grandmother would remember the people who used to live here? Or know where they went?”

“I don’t know. Are you looking for someone?”

“I was,” he says, pulling back slightly. “But I’m getting the impression that she hasn’t lived here in a long time.”

An embarrassingly intense wave of disappointment washes over me. He’s looking for a woman. Of course he is, because I doubt a guy like him goes a single night without company.

“Is she someone important to you?” I ask, trying and failing to sound casual.

He laughs, a flicker of amusement flashing in his eyes. “No, definitely not. In fact, I’ve never met her.”

“Oh,” I say, confused. “Okay…”

Before he can explain further, we’re distracted by the buzzing of my phone against the bar. Instinctively, I reach for it, and blanch when I see the name that pops up above the text.

Ryan:

Hey, so I thought you’d want to talk, but I guess you’re going to be immature about this and avoid me. Let me know when you plan on getting over yourself and coming home.

I stare at the text in complete disbelief. That’s it? Over a day of radio silence, and now, that’s all he has to say to me? What the fuck.

Even though I know I shouldn’t engage, I immediately fire back a text.

Me:

I need to get over myself? I’m not the one who got caught cheating.

For a brief second, I feel satisfied, until three dots appear on my screen. The dots appear and disappear as if he’s typing and deleting his message. After a second, my phone rings.

“I need to take this, sorry.”

Daemon waves me away. “Go ahead, Peaches. I’m not worried.”

“Worried about what?”

He smirks. “You’ll be back. I’m not done with you yet.”

“Umm…” I begin, but the phone starts ringing and I can’t focus on anything else. “Sure. Okay. Yeah, I’ll be right back.”

I stomp across the bar and answer the phone just as I shoulder open the door. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Ryan demands, without preamble.

“That’s none of your business.”

“Like hell it’s not,” my husband snaps. “When are you coming home?”

I suck in a sharp breath and close my eyes. “Why do you care? What, do you want to make sure Jenna is out of the house before I get there?”

There’s a tense silence on the other line where Ryan doesn’t answer. My stomach sinks with dread.

Oh my God.

I was being sarcastic, but that’s exactly what’s going on. Jenna is at my house right now with my husband, and instead of being worried about me, they’re just worried about the scene I’ll cause if I catch them again.

Holy shit, my entire life is over.

“Just tell me where you are,” he says, his tone even, almost mocking. “This is ridiculous, baby. Just come home so we can talk.”

“No!” Heat pricks my nose and the back of my eyes, and I swallow thickly. “I want a divorce.”

Ryan chuckles. Actually chuckles. “That’s not happening. We’ve been together too long to just throw it away. What will people think?”

“You’re the one throwing it away, not me.”

His voice hardens. “It was one mistake, Alix. You’re so critical, you can’t ever just let things go. And we both know you can’t afford a divorce, anyway. How are you going to live on your own when I already pay all our bills?”

My chest tightens, and the first tear slips silently down my cheek.

I’m not even sad about splitting up. It’s not him I want; it’s everything else. One decision, and he’s taking everything away from me. My marriage, my friend, my music—because there’s no fucking way I can afford to keep playing violin for a living now that I’ll be surviving on one income. He’s snatching my financial security, my apartment, and my trust in men, all at the same time.

He’s fucking me in a way he hasn’t since he took my goddamn virginity.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say, unable to hold back the tears anymore. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“No,” he snaps. “I want to talk now. I need to know where you are.”

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I grit out again, before hanging up the phone. Quickly, I turn off the phone and let out a shaky sigh.

I stare at the dark parking lot and the sign for Ted’s, not really seeing them at all. Ryan is right—I can’t afford to get a divorce, but I’m determined to figure it out even if I have to swallow my pride and beg my mom for money. After all, my marriage is already over. It was finished long before today, and now I just need to find a way to be okay with that.

My eyes sting with angry tears. I storm into the bar, intending to order an entire bottle of wine. I slam my phone on the bar so hard I wouldn’t be surprised if the screen cracked.

“You alright, Peaches?” Daemon asks, tilting his head at me in concern.

I blink in surprise, having almost forgotten he was there.

My mind races. I don’t even know this guy, but he’s being nicer to me than Ryan has in years. I mean, I’m half-certain he’s being so nice because he wants to get into my pants, but so what? He’s crazy hot, and I hate the fact that Ryan is the only man I’ve ever been with.

My heart rate quickens, and I drag my tongue over my lips as a completely insane idea takes shape. A certifiably crazy idea.

Without a word, I lean toward Daemon and press my lips to his.

I hope he was serious about liking crazy girls.