Midnight Whispers (The Midnight Duology #1)

Chapter 7

7

I wake up frantically, my nightgown clinging to me as cold sweat beads across my skin. I’m really going to have to give the true crime documentaries a rest because I could have sworn someone was just standing next to my bed. My eyes scan my empty room, revealing a light shining from beneath my door.

“Flo. Is that you?” I call, my voice full of hope that I’m not yelling at someone who’s broken into the house.

“Hmm?” she answers groggily from the next room.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, never mind.”

“You okay?” she mumbles.

“Just another bad dream, I guess. Tonight is obviously not the best night for me to sleep. I’m just going to make some tea.”

“You want some company?”

“If you don’t mind,” I respond, tossing the sheets off my leg and walking down the hall and into the kitchen.

The wood is cold as I walk through the house. It creaks beneath my weight as each step brings me closer to the kitchen. I fill the kettle up with water and place it on the stove, starting the fire beneath it so that it comes to a boil. As it heats up, I reach into the cabinet to get a mug for both Flora and me. The designs of the mugs are a testament to us as individuals. Mine is a forest green covered with cartoonish mushrooms and cartoonish fairies, and hers is black with a skeleton hand holding up the middle finger.

I prepare the mugs by placing the tea bags full of chamomile and lavender inside and adding honey to sweeten it a little. My thoughts drift to the stranger in the coffee shop today. The only thing I saw was the back of his head, which revealed little except he had dark black hair that was well kept, but…

“Earth to Lil!” Flora waves her hand in front of me. “The kettle was screaming; you didn’t hear it?” She goes to turn off the burner.

“I must not be fully awake yet.” She raises an eyebrow to my response, and I answer with a soft smile.

Rolling her eyes, Flora quips, “Yeah, okay. It has nothing to do with the portrait you have hidden in your panty drawer?”

“How did you…”

“We’ve been best friends for more than half of our lives, babe. I know way more about you than I should, including where you hide things you want to keep safe or secret. It’s honestly kind of terrifying how much I know about you.” She raises her brow and looks at me through the corner of her eye.

Flora pours water into our mugs; the water instantly swirls a light yellowish green. I rest my elbows on the counter and bob my tea bag up and down while my curiosity keeps my mind going in circles.

“You okay?” She furrows her brows.

I shrug. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired I guess.”

“Do you want me to stay up with you?”

“No. You worked until super late. I’ll be okay! Go to sleep.”

“Only if, you’re sure,” she answers with a raised eyebrow. I can only nod. “Love you,” Flora says as she kisses my forehead. The sound of her bedroom door shutting echoes not long after she walks away.

I go into the living room and sit on our couch. The silence throughout the house is deafening. I go back and forth with myself about the potential of adopting a cat just for some companionship, but ultimately decide against it.

Falling back to sleep doesn’t happen, even with the chamomile tea. I decide to go into the coffee shop early, which is happening more and more lately, it seems. The sun is barely rising, the moon still high in the sky.

I put everything from the entryway table into my satchel and make my way out of the cottage. The air is brisk this morning, so I button up my cardigan until it wraps around me tightly. Thankfully, the coffee shop has a fireplace that is going to be lit today. I go to put my satchel in the basket of my bicycle when a peony catches my eye. Lifting it out of the basket, I bring it to my nose and inhale the sweet scent.

I look around the front yard, barely lit by the rising sun. I am both weirded out and intrigued by the random flower placed in my basket. Logically, my brain tells me it was most likely Parker who put the flower in there. Maybe he placed it there to apologize for our encounter at Alcott’s. After every fight, every bruise, every drink, and every tear he would surprise me with flowers. I suppose he thought it would make me forgive him and for most of our life together it worked.

But, for some inexplicable reason, I hope that the flower came from my stranger. It’s nagging at me in the pit of my stomach. My instincts are yelling at me, telling me to just stay away. As I ride my bike into town all I can think about is this stranger and the back of his darn head.

By the time I arrive at the coffee shop, the sun is finally making its appearance. The color of the sunrise is muted by the ominous dark clouds that line the morning sky. Once I park my bike and disarm the alarm, I light the fireplace in hopes to warm up the main room. My phone rings, letting me know I have an unread message. I open my phone to a text from Flora.

Hey babe. It says there's supposed to be a storm tonight. Let me know when you close up the shop! NO BIKE RIDING HOME!!!

I will probably close the shop up early and go to Whimsy’s. But I will let you know!

Sounds good! Love you.

Love you most.

As expected, the rain slows business down for the day. I have a few of my regulars during operating hours, but it isn’t nearly as busy as a normal day. As the day goes on, I find myself looking toward the table in the back corner. Disappointment fills my chest every time I see it remains empty.

Why can’t I stop thinking about him?

I close around two o’ clock and send Flora a text, letting her know that I am heading to the bookstore. There is little to be done in Alcott’s since we had only a few customers today, but with the lack of business, I am able to do some much needed deep cleaning and restocking. After I set the alarm and lock the doors, I open my umbrella and walk toward Whimsy’s. I am absolutely cursing myself for not wearing boots as my Converses are getting soaked by the rain.

Whimsy’s has been my favorite bookstore since we moved to Emolyn Cove. Well, I mean, it’s really the only bookstore we have if you don’t count the book selection at the drugstore. Miss Patterson owns the building four doors down from mine, so I often walk down here and browse the shelves.

It was one of the first places my dad and I went together when we arrived in town. The small bookstore is divided into four sections: romance, fantasy, non-fiction, and religious. Dad really enjoyed non-fiction. He loved reading about different things throughout history, especially from people who lived through them. I personally enjoy escaping the world I live in and reading fantasy and romance.

Walking through the aisles makes me feel closer to Dad in a way. I run my fingers over the spines of the books, lost in a world all my own. I’m so lost in fact, that I don’t see the person in front of me until I crash into them.

“Oh my gosh. I am so sorry!” I exclaim. I put my face in the palms of my hands, hoping to hide the shade of crimson that has now replaced the typical pale skin of my cheeks.

The man before me doesn’t flinch. “No need to apologize, darling. I too get lost in the world of books.” He smiles, his teeth perfectly straight and white.

“Wow.”

Did I just say that out loud?

He lets out a low chuckle. “Did you accost me to get this special edition copy of Wuthering Heights?” he asks, holding up the book.

“The gold foil detailing on the page's edge and the floral print on the front would absolutely be a reason to accost someone, but I already have that copy.” I smirk and raise a brow.

Am I freaking flirting right now?

“My mistake…?” He raises a brow.

“Lillia.” I smile, extend my hand, and take in his sharp cheekbones and wispy blonde hair. It’s honestly his eyes that I could get lost in; the golden brown is unlike anything I’ve seen before.

“What a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” He grabs my hand, flips it over, and places a kiss on my knuckles. It wasn’t the kiss that took me by surprise, but more so the temperature of his hands. They were hard and cold, like marble.

“And your name is?” I ask with a raised brow.

“Cedar.”

“You’re not from Emolyn Cove, are you?”

“What gave me away?” He chuckles and readjusted his shoulders, towering over me by at least a foot. Not that anyone being taller than me was an issue, being that I’m barely over five foot.

“It’s just a small town. Everyone kind of knows everyone else,” I shrug. “What brings you here? Family?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs. “It’s complicated.”

“Well, welcome to Emolyn Cove. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

He smirks again. “Thank you, Lillia. I think I’ll like my stay very much.”

I can’t figure out if his smile is cocky or charming, but I don’t give him much time to let me figure it out. I smile, put my head back down and start to walk out of the aisle.

Don’t be such a coward.

“You know…” I say, pausing to glance coyly over my shoulder. “Th ere’s a Halloween party at the historical society in a couple of days. You should come.”

Cedar’s mouth twitches up in a smirk. “Will you be there?”

“I will.”

His grin grows, almost sinisterly. “Then I wouldn’t miss it.”

I bite my lower lip as the warmth flows from my chest to my face, which I know without looking at my reflection is back to the same crimson as before.

“Good,” I say, turning and hurrying out of the building before I have a chance to change my mind.

After throwing my bicycle in her trunk, I run to the door of Flora’s car and sigh as I sit back in the front seat.

“You didn’t get a book?” she asks as she turns on her blinker and merges onto the street.

“No. There isn't a book I needed , but I did get something else.”

“Oh? What’s that?”

“I crashed into a stranger, a gorgeous stranger, and invited him to the Halloween party.”

“Shut up! Who are you and what did you do with my best friend? Give me all of the details!”

“I really don't know much. His name is Cedar, he’s here visiting family, which he said is complicated, and gorgeous in an almost hypnotizing way.”

“Well, I can’t wait to meet him! He’s going to die when he sees you in your costume.”

Butterflies suddenly began to dance around in my stomach. My nerves are finally getting the best of me, and I am now second-guessing everything.

Why did I invite him?

“Oh no. Don’t do that,” Flora snaps, looking back and forth between me and the road.

“Do what? ”

“Start regretting your decision to invite your mystery man!”

I let out a small chuckle before turning to face the window. Suddenly, I am filled with guilt and what ifs.

What if my mysterious stranger is at the party?

What if he sees me with Cedar?

I sink down in my seat, biting my lip, and cursing myself for being bold.