Fuck. She wasn’t working with Gordon. She was hiding from him. And Zach had made everything worse.
He had to get out of there. He had to get away from her—away from her sad smile and soft eyes—so that his Shadows could settle and he could think.
He reached for his phone, already falling back on his usual crutch, his work. But his thoughts were as agitated as his Shadows.
How the hell was he going to fix this?
ChapterSeven
Emma’s alarmblared and she rolled over, groaning as she blindly reached out to stop it. She lay in bed for a long moment, wishing she could stay there but knowing she couldn’t. She counted to ten, took a breath, and then pushed herself out of her bed and padded over to the bathroom to wash her face.
The window was open and the fresh morning air helped clear the sticky cobwebs from her brain while the splash of cold water on her skin washed away the lingering disquiet from the previous night.
She hadn’t gone out for dinner with anyone in years, and she was definitely out of practice, but that was the most uncomfortable date she’d ever been on.
Nathan had gone from intensely, overly interested—questioning her about her father in a way that had made her thoughts spiral back to her earlier concerns that he had been sent by the Council—to utterly withdrawn. And then he’d left before their food even arrived.
He’d claimed he had to make a call and paced outside the restaurant window with his shoulders hunched, occasionally staring into the distance. Then, finally, he stalked back inside to explain that he had a work emergency, apologized while he settled the bill, and left.
Emma had found herself standing outside the restaurant, holding a plastic tub filled with cooling lasagna while all her hopes for the night frayed and blew away in the chilly sea breeze.
Nathan was extraordinarily attractive and touching his hand had done something to her. It had made her want to be near him. To touch him again, to run her hands all over his skin, to feel that primal warmth flooding through her once more. She had wanted to tease a smile out of him, and maybe even peel back some of his gruff layers and see the person underneath. She had thought that, for just a few hours, she would feel connected to another human. Watching him walk away had hurt far more than it had any right to.
But now, standing in her pajamas, alone, and looking at her tired face in the mirror, she had to accept that the whole thing was ridiculous from the start. It had been a hopeless daydream built on her memories of Zach and her ability to touch Nathan. The reality was that he’d hardly managed a conversation with her, and then he’d left her standing in the street alone. She didn’t have to be a Seer to know what that meant.
Emma made a face at herself in the mirror while she brushed her teeth. She was being far too maudlin. Nathan was always going to walk away. Sheknewthat. That had been half the point. She didn’t need to hear about his life. She was better off not knowing about what had put that bleak determination into his eyes. Or the pain he tried to hide. She didn’t need to understand any of it.
She snorted softly. She’d clearly been alone too long if she was having this kind of reaction to the first man who offered to buy her a cup of coffee. A cup of her own coffee. God.
Emma brushed her hair and twisted it into a neat bun, applied a touch of mascara and lip gloss, and then went back to her room to slip into her usual uniform of jeans, blouse, and comfortable flats. She would go to work, lose herself in the day’s pastries and dough, and forget all about Nathan. He had almost certainly already forgotten her.
The sun was rising as she drove down to the village, painting the stone cottages in golden light. She opened her windows and let the salty air fill the car, letting go of the disappointment and humiliation of the night before. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that holding on to hurts never helped.
She turned on the radio and sang along, counting all the things in her life she was grateful for. Focusing on those. A buzz of energy tingled up her spine, but she ignored it.
She parked in her usual spot and made her way down the high street to the bakery. She always loved the walk past the tiny bookstore and the ramshackle shop filled with fossils and crystals, both still firmly closed, up to The Holly Tree. No matter what else happened, the bakery was hers. She would surround herself with pastry, precise measurements, and the scent of cinnamon and vanilla, and all would be well.
Then she lifted her eyes and saw him. Nathan. Standing in her doorway. A tiny ache prickled behind her left eye and a strange flutter swirled through her belly. Whether it was a warning for good or for bad, she had no way to know. Honestly, she had no way to know whether it was a warning at all.
Her steps took her close enough to see him properly, and all thoughts of visions faded. Nathan looked terrible. He had dark circles under his eyes, his hair was standing up in spikes as if he’d been running his hands through it, and he hadn’t shaved. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. It was the first time she’d ever seen him not wearing a suit. But the real difference was in his eyes. The blue was so dark it was almost slate, but, more than that, he was looking right at her. As if he was seeing her—truly seeing her—for the first time.
A shiver worked its way up her spine, its discordant prickle joining the pulse behind her eye, and she rubbed her hands over her arms to ease the rising goose bumps. “Nathan? Is everything okay?”
He flinched. It was a tiny movement, too small for most people to notice. But she’d learned to be cautious at a young age, and it was enough to make her wary. “What’s happening?” she asked quietly.
“Can I come inside?” Nathan’s voice was deep, rough even, his tone as serious as the look on his face.
She hesitated. Everything about this strange moment felt fraught. Inviting him into her sanctuary suddenly seemed exceedingly dangerous. As if she was standing on the edge of an abyss that she couldn’t quite see.
“I won’t—” He swallowed the words, then tried again. “Just to talk. I promise. Call Becky and let her know I’m here, if that helps.”
She watched him, letting the sliver of fear settle until she could examine it. She was afraid, and her head was starting to hurt. But, for whatever reason, it was not Nathan she was afraid of. “Okay.”
She unlocked the door and let them both in before closing and locking it again. She turned on the lights and led him through the bakery front into the kitchen at the back.
The warm scent of rising dough, of yeast, sugar, and the cinnamon she’d used in the palmiers she’d made the day before, filled the air. She took a deep, grounding breath, letting those scents stabilize her.
She gestured toward a metal stool and turned on the coffee. Nathan perched on the stool, his eyes roaming over the sparkling stainless-steel surfaces and the industrial mixers, the huge chiller, and the door leading to the tiny office at the back. And then he looked at her, and she almost took a step back to get away from the devastation in his eyes.
