The nightmares grew worse. Figures shifted—black ones, sometimes red, glowing, glaring at her, and eerily similar to the faint lights she'd seen in Amy's video. There were growls echoing in her head, mumbles of "come to us, come to us," and an ominous sensation of nails having scratched at her skin when she woke up.

The next morning, Jessamine's sheets were so drenched she had to remove them and toss them in the washing machine. She took the longest shower she'd ever taken—and a cold one, too, to lower her body temperature, which had risen to an astronomical level. Even if she'd lived without air-conditioning, and hiked in the heat for hours, she didn't think her flesh would be so slick with sweat.

While under water, letting the chilly droplets drizzle down her skin, Jessamine wondered; were these nightmares? Despite being blurry and distant, they were intense. The dominant colors—blue and red—were so vivid, like police car lights flashing in her mind, blinding her. She hadn't seen the house this time, but the décor—ripped-wallpaper, stained wooden floors, cobwebs in corners, shiny banisters enclosing wide stairs—reflected that she might have been in the house, not outside. And that hadn't been shown in Amy's video; if she'd gone inside, or been dragged inside, she hadn't filmed it or sent it to Avery. So if this was the house's interior that kept haunting inside Jessamine's mind, how had she imagined it so graphically? There was no way she'd entered it, so how had she put all these images together? What was her subconscious trying to tell her?

It was all fear, it must have been. Bunching up inside her, bracing to burst the further she pushed herself, tried to force her memories to come back. She hadn't heard from her mom yet, about an appointment with the doctor, and in truth, she didn't want to call her yet. She was still swallowing her mom's involvement in all this, trying to accept that she'd kept Jessamine in secrecy for her own mental health.

Jessamine only wished she hadn't stumbled upon that video and provoked her recollections. She'd have been leading her regular life, moving on towards goals she hadn't quite figured out, but without nightmares and night sweats.

Later, at the shop, while she was wiping down tables during a rare slow spell, the door-bell rang and she straightened up, glancing towards the arrival.

It shouldn't have surprised her to identify Avery waltzing in as if he owned the place, dashing between chairs and tables and zooming straight up to her.

She lowered her arm to her side and squeezed the rag tight in her palm.

Had he come to apologize for his behavior? He wore a tank top, for once, finally adjusting to the heat-wave overcoming the area. He'd tossed his hoodie and long-sleeved shirts to sport something that showed his arms—his nice, slightly beefy arms, shiny with perspiration, reflecting the rest of the tattoo sleeve Jessamine had noticed the day before. The pattern weaved up to his shoulder, where it continued under the thick strap of his ruby red top. His jeans weren't tight, but enough to cling to his legs and show their shape under the navy fabric, and enough for Jessamine to imagine his ass wrapped up in the back—

She bit her tongue. Yes, she'd ogled Avery upon his first visit, and she'd glimpsed his well-rounded behind yesterday, when coming in to discover him hunched over a table with Jamie. Today, she wouldn't let her guard down. Avery was a man on a mission, and despite his kinder features right now—he wasn't smiling, but didn't look ready to chew her face off, like yesterday—he wasn't her friend. He'd devour her if she were to succumb to him. All he wanted was to find Amy. If Jessamine admitted she might have been in the same place over three years ago, what would he do? Beg her to share with him? Push her over the edge? She'd seen his methods on his show. Avery Boomer was out to get the truth, and he'd get it, no matter the obstacles.

"Why do you keep coming here?" Jessamine ensured she was standing in front of a chair, impeding his access to her, should he try to touch her again.

Avery stopped at the table she'd been wiping, hands on his hips. He didn't say anything, but his gaze locked with Jessamine's.

"What?" Jessamine raised her arms, still clutching the rag in one hand. "Aren't you trying to find your girlfriend? She's not here, so you can move along."

Avery flinched, then ran one hand over his short-cut curls. "Amy isn't my girlfriend, first off. And sorry..." He lifted his shoulders and offered a fake smile. "There's something going on here and I won't go anywhere until I figure it out."

"Ah." Jessamine threw the rag onto the table and snickered at him. "So that's why the intro in your show calls you stubborn, yeah? Because you have a habit of not being able to leave innocent people alone, no matter how hard they beg you to let them be?"

"Innocent?" Avery scoffed, gripping the back of the chair he stood in front of. "You? That's not what I hear."

Jessamine frowned at the rag, wishing she hadn't thrown it. She might have needed it to relieve the pressure cracking through her at the notion of having to defend herself to Avery. And the irritation coursing through her at the idea that someone in her surroundings had likely talked to him about her.

Probably Chad, that piece of shit.

"What do you mean? Me?" She pressed a hand to her chest. "What did you hear? No one knows me. I'm not famous, like you."

Avery's eyebrows raised. "I beg to differ."

"Oh?" Jessamine mimicked him by grasping the chair in front of her, pushing her finger-pads hard into the indented surface. "Look, I'm just a barista who loves books and animals and teaches dance lessons. Whatever people think they know about me, they don't, okay?"

"Right, animals." Avery slightly cocked his head, scrutinizing her. "Animals that stopped loving you back after that accident you mentioned, huh?"

Fuck.

She'd hoped he'd forget about overhearing—eavesdropping, actually—that tiny detail she'd reminded Chad of yesterday.

Jessamine released the chair and her gaze went to the door, trying to figure out how she could interrupt this conversation and leave Avery here. She'd have to run, because he'd follow her; but she could seek shelter in the supermarket down the street, those aisles were treacherous, and easy to hide in...

"Animals detect weird shit, did you know?" Avery, seeing her scanning the exit, leaned sideways to block her vision. "So, what happened?"

Jessamine squinted at him, her urge to run growing; and yet, why would she run when this was her job? This was supposed to be a safe place for her. Her boss wouldn't help her, too star-struck by Avery's fame; she'd have to speak up for herself, establish boundaries, and warn Avery to behave. Running wasn't an option. Confrontation—which Jessamine despised—was her only way to get rid of this guy.

"You're not a cop or an investigator or detective, so I don't have to tell you shit," she said, daring to turn her back on him, darting towards the EMPLOYEES ONLY door, which was half-open.

Avery, faster than lightning, zipped over and barred her from reaching the door. "No, no, nuh uh, not this time. You're not hiding in there to evade my questions."

"No." Jessamine wasn't having any of his blockade bullshit, so she attempted to shove past him. But he was swift, and strong, and prevented her again from getting to the door.

She huffed; not giving up, but too exhausted to handle this.

Are you seeing any of this on that stupid camera of yours, Chad? Doesn't this constitute as physical harassment?

"And I'm a paranormal investigator, remember?" Avery towered before her, a hunky brick wall that wouldn't budge until he obtained his answers. "And as such, I'm telling you that something is off about you."

His scent—a faint musk, not overpowering, but gently sweet and sticky—filtered into Jessamine's nostrils. She tried not to sniff at it, to give any inclination that she liked it, but with Avery so close, it was hard to control her facial expressions, to ensure she only showed rage.

Because she felt it bubbling up inside, swelling in her abdomen, sending blood rushing through her arms, tightening her fists. Could she physically harm him? Throw in a punch or two, incapacitate him long enough to call the cops and then claim she'd acted in self-defense?

She almost snorted at her thoughts.

No, because Chad would step in and say the damn cameras aren't showing proof of anything violent from Avery.

Why did she work for a man who only cared about stray animals and money coming in? That was a long story she'd question herself on later if she escaped this deranged dude.

"What, you think I'm sick?" She let out a chuckle. "Haunted? Possessed? That's all bullshit." His jaw clenched, but she ignored him. "I'm fine, and you should leave me alone. Even if I weren't okay, why does it matter? I have nothing to do with your friend. Girlfriend. Whatever she is. You're wasting your time talking to me."

Avery shook his head and licked his lips. "I'm not so sure about that. The fact that you're fine, I mean." He reached behind him and pulled the EMPLOYEES ONLY door closed, then leaned against it. "Three years ago this accident happened, right? I'm told you hung out with quite the rowdy crowd back then."

Jessamine nearly kicked him in the groin; it was easily accessible from where she stood, and that should distract him long enough for her to get the heck out of there.

"Who the fuck told you that?"

She racked her brain—who did know about her days with Landon, Angela, and the others? She'd been working at Common Grounds for a long time, but hadn't been too friendly with her co-workers. And said co-workers came and went; few were able to tolerate Chad like she did.

Who had spilled about her drug and alcohol-filled party days with the sexy rich-boy she'd been ready to do just about anything for, and his hot and tempestuous girlfriend that had made Jessamine realize she was bisexual?

"According to your boss, I'm a celebrity," Avery smirked, "but in any case, I've got a personality that'll make anyone talk to me. People enjoy chatting with me."

She could see it, and she hated it. He was—his current disposition aside—a friendly enough person, she'd discovered from her colleagues. According to one co-worker, who'd come to relieve her yesterday, he'd discussed books with another patron, and bought a drink for a couple who'd walked in and recognized him. He'd apparently flirted with said co-worker, and Jessamine had sulked as she imagined him speaking in a husky tone, rubbing the back of his neck, his shirt lifting temptingly high enough to show rows of sculpted abs—

"People?" She had to break free from her thoughts; her libido had been screaming at her for months, and Avery's unfortunate arrival into her life hadn't helped. She loathed him and his demeanor, but why, why did he have to be so hot?

"Your co-workers, for one." He narrowed his gaze, assessing her; or was he retrieving a memory of his own? "Someone said you were going on an adventure to explore some woods, yeah?"

"What?" Jessamine was taken aback, and sincerely so, as she herself barely remembered the day she'd left to go on the journey that would end up landing her in the hospital.

Who had she told? No one, or so she'd thought. She'd taken a few days off in preparation. She and Landon and Angela and their other groupies were planning some serious intoxication, and she'd need time to recuperate. But she didn't recall giving any explanation of why she'd taken that time off. Chad wouldn't have known, he didn't ask about her private life. So who else had worked here during those days, who might have given out intimate details of her life? Who would she have even shared them with?

In those years—her dirty early twenties, she called them in her head—her only friends were those in the toxic group she hung out with. And they were all, according to her mom, missing.

"And it was nearby, right? Something about tripping in the woods?" Avery's voice was thick with excitement, and his eyes were wide, focused on her but distant, as if imagining the scene in his mind.

Jessamine gulped, taking a step back. She hadn't shared that plan with anyone, she knew. Had someone simply assumed? What she and the others did was certainly no secret back then. They were known for bar-hopping in bigger towns surrounding Westgardens, and for being thrown out of night-clubs and causing a ruckus in the middle of the street at night while singing their lungs out.

But this—tripping in the woods—was super specific. Those had been Landon's words, exactly, she recalled; and Jessamine hadn't repeated them. Sure, tripping on something was a common term for young adults her age, but this was too coincidental.

Did whoever this tattler was know about the rest of the deal for that night? That if Jessamine came along and did as asked and tested all the drugs offered, she'd get what her heart—but mostly her body—desired?

Oh shit, it's coming back to me. The threesome with Landon and Angela—my heartthrob crush and my disgustingly sexy nemesis.

She wasn't in the closet, hadn't been for years. But if anyone knew the reason why she'd accepted this stupid outing into the woods she was unfamiliar with, the judgment would pour in and she didn't want to face it. She didn't want to explain her urges, her desires, her horniness—memories of which were returning now, at the most inopportune time.

The horniness, thankfully, subsided now that fear and questioning was taking over in her mind.

Shaking, she touched her forehead, finding it starting to cloak in sweat. "I get that you're looking for your friend, but I..." She shivered, and couldn't pass it off as a momentary chill. The shivers were growing in intensity the longer she remained standing. "I have nothing to do with this, okay? Don't get me involved. Whatever my accident was, and I don't remember it anyway, it doesn't have to do with Amy, and it doesn't concern," she swallowed, "you. I can't help you."

"Nothing to do with Amy," said Avery, in a low voice that careened through Jessamine, aggravating her trembling. "And yet you've been acting weird lately, yeah?"

Staring at her hands, begging them to stop shaking, Jessamine groaned. "Seriously, how the fuck—"

"—your co-workers worry, you know." Avery pushed off the door and took a step closer. "They say you've been short with customers. Snarling, growling, muttering under your breath."

"Huh?" Jessamine stepped back, preparing to deny his words... and yet she knew he was right. For the aggression part, at least; muttering under her breath, she didn't recall doing. But she had been in a shitty mood for days, sensing frustration constantly gathering inside her. She'd attributed it to the nightmares... but where had the nightmares come from?

"You're not yourself, they say." Avery's lips were moving, but the sound of him was muted.

Jessamine's senses were tingling, her ears ringing as if she'd been hit hard on the head. The sudden pain that shot across her scalp seemed to imply she had been smacked, or had smashed her forehead on something. Yet she could still see Avery, clear as day, taking another small stride towards her. His arms were at his sides, relaxed, but his biceps were large, pulsating. Tense. He was tense.

"And it all started the day the news was released about Amy, is that right?"

"Wh-what?" Jessamine's heart stopped, then restarted so quickly she had to gasp to inhale the air. The coffee and cleaning supply smell brought her back to life before she passed out.

There hadn't been many people in the shop the day she'd watched the video, aside from her mother, and a handful of other patrons who came in later. Chad was there, he always lurked in the background; but had any of her co-workers spotted her distress? She'd fought to not show her emotions, and she hadn't spoken to anyone about the video and how it had affected her. So who had blurted all this out to Avery? Who was watching her?

"Have you ever," she breathed in and out again, "heard of a coincidence?"

Avery grimaced, stopping in his trajectory towards her. "I don't believe in coincidences, and neither should you." He shoved a hand into his back pocket—causing Jessamine to freeze in fear of him pulling out a weapon—and retrieved his cell phone. After unlocking it, he marched up to her, sliding the device into her hand.

He pressed the play button before she could throw the thing across the room. As she looked down, she recognized what was on the screen—the forest backdrop, its sinister fogginess. That atmosphere of dread, and the ominous feeling in her belly it caused. Immediately, a coppery taste took over her mouth.

"This is it," said Amy, in her raspy voice, its familiarity rocking through Jessamine, sending her teetering backwards.

She couldn't hold the phone and it fell from her grasp, but Avery had sharp reflexes and caught it before it shattered on the floor. He then seized Jessamine's wrist and guided her to the nearest chair, where he helped her sit.

The panic pulsing through her was too severe to ignore, to play off as something else. And it was too late, anyway; Avery had tricked her, and by doing so had seen her raw, real reaction to that forest, to Amy. Luckily he stopped the video before it showcased the house; if he hadn't, he'd have witnessed Jessamine dry-heaving into the closest trash can.

He locked his phone, cutting off the replay, and set the device onto the table before kneeling in front of Jessamine.

"Jessamine, right?" He tapped a finger on the nametag on one strap of her apron. "That's your name?"

Fighting to find oxygen that wouldn't choke her, Jessamine nodded. Her energy had drained, her heart's beats were alternating between erratic and nonexistent, and something in her gut was about to launch out. If he'd put her in this predicament on purpose, if he'd riled her up and driven her to the brink of insanity to catch her in her pretense of not being linked to Amy's forest, then he'd succeeded. But how had he known to do it, and why?

"Okay then, Jessamine." He was calm, his attitude a complete one-eighty from all the flight-or-fight sensations he'd triggered in Jessamine's body. "Do you want to tell me why you've been lying to me?"

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