CHAPTER 26
Sybil
I grabbed the envelope, which had slid under the door and across the room almost to the middle, and tore it open with anticipation. The note said it was from the fire marshal.
My curiosity had been eating away at me all day. I had little else to occupy my thoughts other than the mortification of last night, and the inevitable result of the fire investigation. Unfolding the crisp paper inside, I read the summary.
Three words scribbled under the line reading CAUSE OF FIRE cemented my fault: “Turpentine-soaked rags.”
Flipping to the next page, I found it crammed with evidence photos and scene reports.
Panic numbed my fingers. Charred book spines and canvas frames, once filled with stories, lay crumbled.
The space where a decade of my life had unfolded, where demons were faced and fears battled, was now a burnt marshmallow.
My skin prickled with icy dread; it was all my fault.
As this processed, a fresh wave of panic washed over me.
Had Nash seen this?
I froze, then snatched up the discarded torn envelope to inspect it. A relieved sigh passed my lips, hand on my chest. The envelope containing the documents had been sealed.
Thank heavens too, because the report was damning. I’d acted as though art meant nothing to me every time he probed the subject. It would be hard to explain an active art studio to someone I was trying to make think I wasn’t interested; and he knew I lived alone.
My hands were shaking harder now. “Stupid, Sybil,” I swore out loud.
My distraction cost me everything I cared about and endangered countless others. I knew better than to leave terps out like that. Tears formed in my eyes, and I tried to hold them back as I sent shaky pictures of both pages to Cat.
She took no time in replying.
Cat: Well, great way to destroy the evidence, I suppose. When I warned you to keep Nash from seeing your studio, I didn’t think you’d take it so literally ??.
I laughed through tears that fell, sucking in a few quick breaths.
Sybil: Great way to burn money, too.
Cat: Haha. True! That should feel good! Burn your parent’s money!
I laughed again, then sighed and wiped away my tears. She always knew what to say to make me laugh.
Cat: But on a serious note. You have superb insurance. There’s an accidental-fire clause. Your deductible may be sizable, but nothing you can’t manage. We will compensate your immediate neighbors for any smoke damage and rebuild.
Sybil: Let’s do something for the fire department too.
I sniffled, rubbing my eyes. If Cat let me, I’d give each person involved a year’s salary; that’s how awful I felt.
Cat: Already on my list!
Sybil: Thanks. How could I have been so stupid? I feel so guilty.
Cat: Guilt is just your own fears staring back at you, Sybil. It was an accident. It can happen to anyone.
Sybil: It still doesn’t make me feel better.
I tossed my phone down, wiping the last of my tears with a frown.
The phone buzzed in its nest of blankets. With a dismissive look, I finally grabbed it when it buzzed a second time. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Nash’s name on the screen.
Nash: Hey.
Nash: You hungry?
He’d been gone all day, and while I enjoyed the chance to regroup, I was also worried.
I’d convinced myself of the worst-case scenarios: that he thought I was strange, or that I’d crossed a line.
Maybe he was figuring out how to get rid of me.
I didn’t want to seem needy or desperate.
I bit my polished nail, finding the words.
Me: I’m okay. I’m not hungry. Thank you, tho.
Truth was I was starving, but too proud to let him know that. Bee supplied me with a steady stream of edible door gifts all day, but I still felt my body was making up for not eating at the hospital.
Nash: Yes? Oh good. I’ll bring snacks.
I laughed at his rejection of my answer, and for a moment, it shook me out of my self-pity. It was a welcome break before the anxiety crashed back in.
My room was a mess; I was a mess.
With little time to overthink, I clenched and unclenched my fists before getting to work.
In a sudden rush, I folded the fire report, put it back in the envelope, and slid it under the mattress.
Heading to the bathroom, I checked the mirror, hoping the crying hadn’t made things worse.
I splashed cold water on my face, brushed my teeth, and applied my new array of serums and lotions.
I was praying they’d help reduce the puffiness and visible emotional exhaustion.
Bee worked magic on my makeup last night, and I tried to follow each step, hoping I didn’t mess up the color. I brushed my hair a few times, and sped out of the bathroom, turning off the light on my way.
Fanning my face with the effort of all I’d done, I un-paused Hallmark and jumped in bed to calm down. I attempted to reconnect with the movie I’d been watching, but it was useless. Bill sensed my distress and sidled over to me, placing his head on my knee.
I placed my hand on his head, and just as I cooled down, there was a knock at the door. My heart rate re-activated, sweat pricking my neck as though hell’s gates had flown open.
Bill leapt up like a rocket, jumping to the floor and trotting to the door with his little bandaged feet.
After Bee took Bill out several times today, she’d brought him back to me with fresh bandages in a different shade.
I was grateful for her help. I asked ChatGPT what color they were just in case I needed to know. Apparently, they were green.
My hands shook as I slid out of bed and replaced the comforter, smoothing it down. I tiptoed to the door, placing my ear against it. Bill was whining and bumping the knob with his nose.
“I know you’re there.” Nash’s deep, low voice rumbled through the wood. “I can see the shadow under the door.”
I leapt back a little, looking at my guilty feet, frowning. Bill barked once.
Nash went on. “I’m not leaving this food out here for the mice, so you better open the door.”
Biting my sleeve, I hesitated only a moment—there was no point pretending I wasn’t standing here. Clearing my voice, I unlocked the door and spun the heavy handle, opening it about a foot.
My gaze first noticed his casual, unbothered smile before finding his eyes. They were shifting shades in the light pouring from my room, sparkling like moonlight on water.
“Can I come in?” he asked.
I blinked twice, but stepped back. Bill greeted him with a chatter of sounds.
Nash balanced a large tray overflowing with snacks on his forearm.
My eyes darted across the colorful display: creamy cheeses, glistening meats, vibrant fruits, a scattering of nuts, crisp crackers, and crusty bread.
The smell of the feast hit me, but before I could take it in, he passed and entered the room.
His unique masculine fragrance of wood and leather lingered behind him, a delicious aroma that filled my nostrils. It had permeated my senses, and despite my attempts to escape it since last night, it was present in the very bones of the house.
Nash wore a pair of casual jeans and a tucked-in light-colored cotton long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves bunched up to his elbows. He had a pair of cozy-looking socks on, and I would have been jealous had I not been so nervous.
Nash placed the tray in the center of the bed, extracting a bowl that was for Bill and moving back toward me. I stepped back, giving him a wide berth as he placed it on Bill’s mat by the door.
“Here we go, buddy,” he said to Bill. Nash looked back over his shoulder and smirked at the distance I’d given him as though to challenge it. “You don’t have to look so nervous, you know.”
His comment did little to calm me. I was going to try my best to keep the distance in place this time. I couldn’t trust myself.
Once he placed the bowl and stood, I expected he’d leave again. He didn’t.
Reaching out with his strong, tattooed arm, he instead closed the wide-open door—not all the way, but most of the way. He kept his sharp, piercing gaze fixed on me throughout the entire motion, as if watching for any hint of fear or disapproval of his actions.
Looking satisfied that I hadn’t outright opposed, he then strode across the room to the opposite side of the bed, fluffed one of my pillows, and sat down with a comfortable sigh.
He swung his legs onto the comforter, stretching them down the length of the bed until his long, muscular legs crossed at the ankle.
One arm went behind his head. He looked at ease.
“What are we watching?” he asked, reaching for a grape and popping it in his mouth.
I blinked a few times. “Er… um.”
“Oh, it’s Hallmark.” He smiled. “Bee loves this.” He dropped his arm from behind his head to pat my side of the bed. “I won’t bite. Come sit. Let’s snack.” He winked. “Bee says she made us a ‘girl dinner’ or something like that. She promised me you’d like it.”
I was picking at my sleeves with my fingers at my sides, but stepped forward and toward the bed. I glanced down at the tray of snacks and charcuterie. It was mouthwatering. Cheese, like bacon, was kryptonite. Nothing could keep me from it.
“We’ve got Manchego cheese, aged Gouda, Cheddar, and a goat cheese, I think,” he went on, pointing out each.
I placed a knee on the mattress, craning my neck to inspect the spread before crawling on and sitting cross-legged. I placed my hands in my lap.
“She also made us some mocktails. She’s probably assuming we need a dry night after the one we just had.” He chuckled.
Two tall, frosty glasses sat before me, overflowing with bubbly soda and a colorful mix of berries. I reached for one, bringing it to my lips as the fizz tickled my nose. I took a sip. It was tart and sweet, but very refreshing.
“I’ve totally seen this movie.” He motioned to the screen. “It’s a good one.”
Surprised, I blurted out, “You’ve seen this?”