The air in Idaho Falls carried a brittle chill, the kind that seeps into your bones and lingers like an unwelcome guest. I stepped out of the coffee shop, the warmth of my meeting with Rhiannon and Abbie still clinging to me, a fragile shield against the weight of the ancient text I'd been poring over for weeks. Its cryptic verses, etched in a language older than sin, whispered of a world unraveling, of skies splitting and earth swallowing itself whole. Yet, as I crossed the street, my boots crunching against the frost-dusted pavement, a strange buoyancy lifted my steps. Maybe it was the caffeine, or maybe it was the defiance of a woman who refused to let a prophecy dictate her mood. Either way, I felt alive, a spark in a world teetering on the edge of ash.
The grocery store loomed ahead, its neon sign flickering like a dying star. Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed with a sterile hum, casting stark shadows across aisles of canned goods and wilted produce. I wove through the store, my fingers grazing the smooth skin of apples, the rough hide of potatoes. Each item I dropped into my basket felt like an act of rebellion against the chaos foretold—a mundane anchor to a life I wasn't ready to surrender. The apples were a deep crimson, their scent sharp and sweet, promising a crisp bite. The potatoes, dusted with earth, carried the weight of the fields they'd come from. I imagined slicing them, roasting them with rosemary, the aroma filling my small house, just like my grandmother used to. For tonight, at least, I'd cook to, at least, stay alive.
Outside, the parking lot was a sea of steel and shadow, the late afternoon sun bleeding into the horizon. I slid into my car, the leather seat cold against my thighs, and tossed the grocery bag onto the passenger side. My finger hovered over the ignition when my gaze snagged on a familiar silhouette in the car parked ahead. The shape of his shoulders, the tilt of his head—it hit me like a fist to the chest. I was out of my car before I could think, the door slamming behind me with a hollow thud.
He stepped out of his vehicle, and there he was: Milo Simms, the doctor who worked for Jacob Maxwell, the man whose name alone conjured a labyrinth of secrets. His grin was sharp, predatory, but it softened when he saw me, like he'd been waiting for this moment.
"This has to count as finding you, right, Ms. Everwood?" His voice was smooth, laced with a teasing warmth that made my pulse stutter.
I laughed, a sound that felt foreign in my throat, and felt heat creep up my cheeks. "It depends." I stepped closer, my boots scuffing the asphalt, the air between us charged with something I couldn't name.
But then my smile faltered, and I fixed him with a stare that made his grin waver.
"How did you find me?" My voice was low, edged with suspicion. Idaho Falls wasn't exactly a hub for chance encounters, and I'd been careful—too careful—to leave a trail.
Milo raised his hands, palms skyward, a gesture of mock surrender.
"A ton of research," he said, his gray eyes glinting under the fading light. "You're hard to find, Tawnie, but there's something about you. I feel like I could find you even if you were on another planet."
I crossed my arms, stepping back. His words were too smooth, too deliberate, and they stirred a unease that coiled in my gut.
"Are you going to make good on your promise?" he asked, his tone dipping into something darker, more insistent.
I shook my head, my brow furrowing. "What promise?" The words came out sharper than I meant, but my mind was racing, sifting through memories for a clue.
He tilted his head, a lock of dark hair falling across his forehead. "You said you'd go out with me if I found you again. I've found you twice now, Tawnie, and I'm done waiting."
My breath caught, a memory flickering to life—months ago, a fleeting conversation, a playful challenge I'd tossed out without thinking. I lifted my chin, meeting his gaze. "What do you want now, Milo?"
He ripped his glasses off, and his eyes—those storm-gray eyes—sparkled with an intensity that pinned me in place. "I need to have you."
The words hung between us, heavy, electric. I should've walked away, should've driven off and left him in the dust. But there was something in his gaze, a hunger that mirrored the reckless spark I'd felt earlier. Against my better judgment, I nodded. "One date," I said, my voice steady despite the tremor in my chest. "Dinner. Tonight."
With a grin, he looked around me, to my car.
"Looks like you already had dinner plans." He smirked.
A smile tugged at one side of my mouth, offering an unimpressed smirk.
"Follow me." I turned away and walked to my car door. I opened it to see him still staring at me, from the same spot as before. But now, his hands were in his pockets and an eyebrow was raised.
"Or not?" I continued.
He chuckled as he shook his head. "I think I'll take the lead. I have an idea." He said with a cocky smirk.
A little less than an hour later, we landed at one of the most exclusive restaurants in the state. It wasn't enough to be rich to get a seat. You had to have connections, and based on how easy it was to get in, the greeter calling him by name, Mr. Simms had some strong ties.
The restaurant was a dimly lit haven, its walls adorned with weathered wood and flickering candles that cast dancing shadows across our table. The air smelled of roasted garlic and red wine, a heady mix that curled around us like a spell. Milo sat across from me, his white shirt crisp against his tanned skin, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass with a restless energy. I sipped my champagne, the bubbles sharp on my tongue, and studied him, searching for the man behind the charm.
"Why Idaho?" he asked, his voice soft but probing, like he was peeling back layers of me.
I leaned back, the leather chair creaking an echo in the quiet establishment.
"I was raised here," I said. Deciding not to reveal the entire story. "Born in Colorado, though. Grew up in a small house with my mom and my grandmother. No dad, just the two of them raising me, teaching me how to survive a world that doesn't pull punches." I paused, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass. "I went to Colorado State, studied criminal psychology. Wanted to understand why people break, what drives them to the edge." My voice grew quieter, the weight of the ancient text creeping into my thoughts. "Guess I'm still trying to figure that out."
Milo nodded, his gaze steady, absorbing every word. "Redding, California, for me," he said, leaning forward. "It's a small town that's quite lovely but I had big dreams. My mom's a politician in the state of California and always in the spotlight, fighting for something. My dad's a doctor. He taught me to chase precision and cut through the noise. But I wanted more than their world. Bioengineering—that's where I found it. Building something new, something that could change everything." His voice held a fervor that made my skin prickle, like he was confessing a secret he'd carried too long.
We traded stories, our words weaving a fragile bridge between us. I told him about the summers I spent with my grandmother, her calloused hands teaching me to braid sage for cleansing rituals. He spoke of late nights in labs, the thrill of discovery, the way a single breakthrough could feel like touching the divine. For a moment, the prophecy, the end of the world, felt distant, drowned out by the clink of glasses and the low hum of conversation.
But then I asked, "What are you looking for, Milo? In a relationship, I mean." My tone was light, but my eyes were sharp, searching for cracks in his facade.
He recoiled, just for a second, his fingers pausing on his glass. The air grew heavier. I leaned forward, my voice dropping. "If you followed me across the country for sex, you're about to be disappointed."
Milo shook his head, his gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that stole my breath. "It's not that," he said, his voice low, almost reverent. "I feel like everything is right with the world when you're around. Like you quiet the chaos in my head. I need someone who can hold my world together, Tawnie."
His words hit me like a wave, stirring something deep, something I wasn't ready to name. I held his gaze, my heart a wild beast in my chest, and then I cracked a smile, lifting my champagne glass. The candlelight caught the liquid, turning it to molten gold. "To holding the world together," I said, my voice steady, my grin defiant.
He raised his glass, his eyes never leaving mine, and we drank, the world outside fading to nothing. For tonight, at least, we were enough—two sparks in the dark, holding back the end of everything.