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“You fucking forgot about it! Of course it is. I thought you actually cared for me, then you kissed me, and I thought it was life-changing. Imagine my surprise when thirty minutes later you’re making out with some bridesmaid, and the next day you didn’t even remember,” she argued, closing the distance between us yet again, her finger pointing into my chest. “Get out of my house, Lexington.”

Her chin was raised defiantly, her chest heaving in anger. Every muscle in her body was taut. I couldn’t fathom how I forgot this kiss—this life-changing kiss. I wanted to remember more than anything, but no matter how hard I sorted through my memories of that time, I couldn’t. I couldn’t recall her smooth cherry lips on mine, the taste of her tongue, the feel of her pressed into me.

I didn’t remember, but I couldn’t go a minute more without knowing. I pounced on her, wrapping my arm around her and pulling her into me; she let out an audible oomph when she landed against me. Every inch of my body burned where she was touching. My other hand cupped her cheek, my fingers tangling in her hair, the strands of her bun falling looser. I didn’t give her a chance to protest, to object.

My lips landed on hers, and in that moment, I lived for the first time. My tongue swept into her mouth, and she let me in without question, her hands traveling up to my sides, her fingers gripping my jacket as she pulled me closer. I deepened our kiss and lost myself in her taste, her touch, her.

I broke the kiss and rested my forehead against hers. She was practically trembling in my arms, but she still gripped me tightly, holding me close to her.

“Fuck,” I groaned. “How did I forget that?”

That was the wrong thing to say. My words snapped Goldie back to reality, and her face grew angry again. She pushed me away and stumbled back. She stared at me with wide eyes, her fingers traveling to her lips, which were swollen from our kiss.

“Goldie—” I began.

“Leave,” she demanded again.

“I didn’t mean anything by what I said… I… I—” I couldn’t think of what to say to make this right. That was my issue with Goldie. With the rest of the world, I could talk my way out of anything. With her, I was always putting my foot in my mouth.

“I said get out!” Her voice was rising.

I stood in place, staring at her. I needed to fix this. I needed her.

She was obviously over my shit. She picked up a throw pillow and threw it at me with all her might. “Just leave!”

Tears were streaming down her face, and I couldn’t understand how this had all gone so horribly wrong. I raised my hands to placate her, but she found another throw pillow and heaved it at me. It hit my torso and fell to the ground. I started backing up and dodged the next two pillows.

“Please,” she croaked, a pillow still in her hand. “Just leave, Lexington. Please.”

Her words were weary, her tone drained. I nodded, indicating I would. I should have the first time she asked. I shouldn’t have kissed her… again. But I couldn’t stop myself. There was something intoxicating about her that I couldn’t resist. My hand found the cool metal of the door handle and I turned it, pulling it open slowly, when I realized I never did what I came here for.

I glanced over my shoulder. She was standing in her living room, pillows thrown about, her black hair a mess, her eyes filled with tears and simmering with anger.

“I’m sorry.”

I didn’t stop to hear her response and left her home, closing the door behind me with a click. I didn’t know how I had gone so wrong, or how I hadn’t truly seen Goldie in the four years I’d known her, but I did know I would do anything to make it right.

Goldie

Two weeks. That was how long I’d successfully dodged Lexington since the night he showed up at my door. I was humiliated, sickened, and deeply furious that some betraying part of me still wanted him. Over the last four years, I’d managed to tolerate his existence only because his ignorance was my shield; if he didn’t remember the kiss, I could keep pretending it didn't exist.

Now… well, now I had a reminder of how life-changing kissing Lexington was. His taste was never forgotten, his touch imprinted forever. But kissing him brought back the humiliation, the anger, and the self-loathing. After he forgot all those years ago, a part of me blamed myself. I was once again forgettable. I refused to let myself go back there, but I remembered those feelings vividly.

Maybe that was the truth of why I kept Lexington at arm's length. I never got close to him or let him past the walls I had erected around myself. It was safer for my fragile heart. Maybe it was why I chose to see only his faults, never his strengths that made him so irresistible to those around him.

In the two weeks since he kissed me again, branding his name onto my heart, I had avoided the office like the plague. I didn’t even care if he knew why; I wasn’t ready to face him, and I was doing this on my terms. I wasn’t ready to talk to him… mostly because I wasn’t positive I could keep myself from punching him… or kissing him… maybe both. Most of our work could be done remotely or at odd hours. I spent the early mornings hiding in my office doing the work I needed to, and then went either home or to Fai’s house. He didn’t ask me why I was there, but I could see the questions simmering in his gaze. I hadn’t told anyone about what happened. I wasn’t sure who to tell.

So, I hid. I isolated where I was safe. Alone.

In those two weeks, Lexington had tried to talk to me. He had called, left voicemails, and there was one night I saw him standing on my front porch in the pouring rain. He didn’t knock, and I didn’t let him in. There was a line between us I wasn’t crossing.

The only problem was, it was now October 22nd. That very night, if our theories were right, a couple was going to be murdered and a child abducted. The guilt I felt knowing we hadn’t stopped it was overwhelming, but we had done all we could. We weren’t detectives; we were journalists. All the research was handed over to the police, and Lexington was trying to track down the lone survivor to interview her, but I couldn’t let it go without knowing I did everything in my power to stop the Watcher.

So here I was, driving to Cherrytree Hills to see if I could learn anything more. Anything at all. Detective Ransom offered to help me out and was planning on meeting me at the high school. They were having a town meeting today to discuss the potential of the crime occurring tonight. Everyone would be there—the locals terrified of what was to come.

My heart broke for the young families that couldn’t flee. There were some who left for the week, but the ones who didn’t have the funds to leave were trapped. I was hoping to offer to house any of them who needed it, even for the night.

I did have a list of people I wanted to talk to. There were three people at the top of my suspect list. Detective Ransom assured me all three would be present tonight, and it didn’t escape me that all three were staying in town. I still wasn’t positive the Watcher was from town, but these three weren’t accepted community members. Instead, they were strangers to many of the folks who had lived here for generations, operating on the cusp of the community but never fully welcomed.