October 27, Sunday

THE AFTERNOON sun streamed through the window as I sat at my desk, pen hovering over paper. But instead of writing, I found myself lost in daydreams of Sawyer - his strong hands, his kind eyes, the way he made me feel both safe and exhilarated at the same time.

The rumble of a familiar truck snapped me out of my reverie. My heart raced as I heard footsteps on the porch, followed by a knock. Taking a deep breath, I opened the door, determined to play it cool.

Sawyer stood there, looking as rugged and handsome as ever. But there was an intensity in his eyes that made me catch my breath.

"Josephine," he said, his voice low. "I can't stop thinking about you."

All my resolve to be cool evaporated. "I can't stop thinking about you either," I admitted.

He reached for me and I met him halfway. We came together in a hungry kiss that lasted as we made our way up the stairs to my bedroom, undressing each other along the way. We fell onto the bed and gave up all pretenses of lingering. Sawyer climbed on top of me and made love to me as if it was our first time—or our last? Our bodies were so in tune with each other, I marveled over the sensations he triggered in me. Our climax was so intense, I think we might've levitated. Afterward we talked, laughed, and shared moments of quiet understanding. It felt like pieces of a puzzle falling into place.

I couldn't help but tease him. "Are you some kind of magic man, Sawyer King?"

The moment the words left my mouth, I knew I'd said something wrong. Sawyer's entire demeanor changed, his body tensing beside me.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, his voice carefully neutral.

I backpedaled, trying to lighten the mood. "Just that you seem too good to be true sometimes."

Sawyer sat up, running a hand through his hair. For a moment, I thought he might finally open up, reveal whatever secret he'd been keeping. But then he shook his head, as if clearing away a thought.

"I should go," he said abruptly, standing and reaching for his clothes.

"Sawyer, wait—"

But he was already dressed and heading for the door. He paused, turning back to place a chaste kiss on my forehead. "I'm sorry, Josephine. I just... I can't."

And then he was gone, leaving me alone with my confusion and frustration.

"Ugh!" I groaned, flopping back on the bed. Why did every moment of closeness with Sawyer have to be followed by him pulling away? What was he so afraid of?

As the sun began to set, I reluctantly got up to perform my nightly ritual of locking the graveyard gate. The cool evening air felt good against my flushed skin as I made my way down the familiar path.

But as I reached for the gate, a sudden gust of wind whipped through the graveyard. It was unnaturally cold, carrying with it the scent of decay and something else... something almost metallic.

The trees around me groaned and swayed, their branches creaking ominously. And then, with a sickening crack, a large branch broke free from a nearby oak.

I barely had time to jump back as it crashed to the ground, missing me by inches. My heart pounded in my chest as I stared at the fallen branch, leaves still trembling from the impact.

As quickly as it had come, the wind died down, leaving an eerie stillness in its wake. I stood there, frozen, my mind racing. That branch could have seriously injured me, maybe even...

A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. It felt like a warning. But from what? Or whom?