Saving Savannah

My hand moved up subconsciously, to rub at the bridge of my nose. I let out a sigh.

“Maybe.”

Hey, it was a start. A baby step.

“Okay then. I’ll walk you out.”

He slipped into jeans and a T-shirt in all the time it took to blink. By the time I was ready to go, he already had a hand on the door knob.

“Promise me something,” he said before opening it.

I nodded gently. “What’s that?”

“You’ll get past this,” he said, touching my hand. “Even if you have to share it.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “Fair enough.” Looking him over one last time, I raised an eyebrow. “But you’ve gotta promise me something also. Two things, actually.”

“Anything.”

“First, that you’ll pursue this,” I said, pointing at all the amazing artwork posted around us. “This is a gift, Roman. Very few people have such a thing. You can always fall back on business management,” I pointed out. “But you desperately need to take a shot at this.”

My lover’s whole face changed. His expression went from one of concern over my well-being to a red-faced exhibition of deep, unyielding pride.

“Okay,” he said sheepishly. “And the other?”

I nodded over his shoulder, my mouth twisting into a sarcastic grin.

“You’ll retire that bed,” I chuckled. “Even if you have to burn it.”

Forty

SAVANNAH

The crowds were sparse, but it was still early. Plenty of time for the avenues to fill up. For the quaint little bed and breakfasts to yawn wide their antique doors, and pour throngs of eager tourists into Salem’s historic streets.

And here I was, stomping along, angry for no reason. Pissed off at myself for nothing more than a recurring nightmare, over which I obviously had no control.

It was the first day I wasn’t looking forward to work, and that pissed me off too. I’d finally built something good again. I’d taken my time with it. I’d taken great pride in everything I’d done. Why should I allow the ghosts of my past to haunt anything I did now? Didn’t that defeat the very purpose of moving on?

Tourists and vendors alike stepped aside as I threaded my way down Essex street. Like it or not, I was in that kind of mood. Giving off ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes, all along the way through—

Suddenly I did a double take. My legs kept wa

lking another three or four steps, beyond where my brain screamed for them to stop.

There was a man standing alone, in the dead center of the street. A man with dark hair. Bushy eyebrows.

A man I somehow recognized.

Oh shit.

He was handing out cards, much the way Zane had done. Practically forcing them on passers-by, whether they wanted them or not.

“Hey!”

I jumped a little as he called out to me. He’d caught me staring.

“Come see Madam Zingara!” the man said cheerfully. He thrust a colorful, oversized card my way. “Seer. Soothsayer. Voice of the world beyond!”