Never Leave, A Human Mate - (Book 2 The Mist Series)

~Chapter 17 - Our First Date. Now?~

~Dawn~

I lay beside Reece, grinning like a fool. I felt like I’d won some bizarre human lottery, and he was the jackpot. It made no sense. Forty-eight hours. Barely left his room. We woke up, and boom, we were at it again, a pair of insatiable rabbits. My libido had staged a revolt against my brain, and every nerve ending was screaming for more. My buttons had no off touch.

Breakfast in bed, great conversation that stimulated my mind, and a bed so comfy it begged me to stay. What more could a girl ask for? I burrowed closer, content with the rise and fall of Reece’s warm chest beneath my cheek.

He kissed the top of my head, his voice a low rumble. “I could get used to this.”

My stomach dropped. I sat up so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. This was accelerating faster than a runaway train, especially considering my… situation. Was I projecting something onto Reece? He’d been through so much already, lost so much, and here I was, potentially adding another layer of complication to his life.

“What’s wrong, Dawn?” He was instantly concerned, sitting up facing me, his blue eyes searching mine.

“It’s nothing,” I lied, but the tremor in my voice gave me away. Reece was too perceptive, too emotionally intelligent to be fooled. He was as clued in as he was devastatingly handsome.

He cupped my chin, his thumb gently caressing my skin. “Dawn, you’re my ma—” He stopped abruptly, a flush creeping up his neck. He cleared his throat, a touch of awkwardness eclipsing his usual confidence. “You’re pretty amazing. I mean, I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“What, a woman willing to jump your bones on the first night?” I offered with a self-deprecating laugh that felt a little too close to a scold.

He chuckled, but it was light and genuine, devoid of any judgment. “No, I mean someone as funny, as sharp, and as real as you. We might have only known each other for…” He paused, calculating in his head, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Maybe two days, but I don’t want you to leave. Not yet. I want to… take you out. Actually, take you out of this room. Besides, it smells like pure, unadulterated s*x in here.”

My cheeks flushed crimson, despite my best efforts to suppress it. “I’d like to go on a date with you, Reece. But,” I scooted back, breaking his hold, and stood, grabbing a shirt from the floor. “I can’t stay… indefinitely. I have a… rather ambitious bucket list, and a limited time to tackle it.”

“Dawn, wait,” he interrupted, rising to his feet and intercepting me. He reached out, his touch gentle as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “I know you’re worried about the leukemia. I can see it in your eyes. But if you would let me look after you, care for you, show you what this town has to offer… maybe you might want to stick around for a while longer. Just a little while.” His eyes pleaded with me, a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before.

The thought of him caring for me, of having someone to lean on, was intoxicating. But it was also terrifying. I didn’t want to become a burden. I didn’t want him to watch me… fade.

“Will there be coffee?” I asked, peering up at him, a tiny, hopeful smirk playing on my lips. It was a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood, to inject some levity into the heavy air that had descended.

He laughed, and the sound was like a warm blanket, calming the storm raging within me. “All the coffee you need… and maybe a few other things to help you tick off that bucket list.”

His words were like a lifeline, a promise of adventure and normalcy amidst the swirling chaos of my impending mortality. “Alright, Reece,” I said, my voice softer than I intended. “Coffee first. Then we conquer this town.”

He grinned, that heart-stopping, panty-melting grin that made my stomach flip-flop like a fish out of water. He moved closer, his arms encircling my waist, pulling me against his warm body. “Deal. But conquering the town might have to wait until after breakfast. I’m thinking pancakes…with extra syrup.”

The pancakes were divine, fluffy clouds drowned in a sticky, sugary sea. We ate in a comfortable silence, punctuated by the clinking of forks and the occasional contented sigh from me. Reece watched me with an amused glint in his eyes, clearly enjoying my enthusiasm for the simple breakfast. It was a domestic scene, a snapshot of a life I never thought I’d have after Nate’s death, and I savoured every moment.

Afterward, showered and dressed in a comfy pair of jeans and a t-shirt that definitely wasn’t mine, we finally ventured out of the mansion. The scent of Reece was on everything, on my skin, in my hair, and clinging to my clothes. I enjoyed it far more than I should have.

The crisp air, laced with the scents of pine and damp earth, eased the throbbing in my head. This episode didn’t feel like the others. The nausea was a distant memory, and the pain had dulled to a manageable thrum. I could almost believe I was… normal.

Just as I had thought the moment I arrived in the town, Mist was charming, straight out of a movie, with quaint buildings huddled close together. Their facades were painted in cheerful, slightly faded hues. We walked down Main Street, passing several boutiques, each with window displays that were surprisingly fashionable for a town this size.

“Lee’s Wholesalers,” Reece pointed out, gesturing to an enormous store under a weathered annex. “That place has been here since I was a kid. Old man Louis still runs the place, and he knows everyone’s favourite vegetable or fruit. Creepy, but useful.”

We continued past a florist overflowing with vibrant blooms, the air thick with their perfume. We arrived at Lava Java, a cozy little coffee shop that sat across the street from a bakery called Honey Cake Sweets. Even from across the street, I could smell the intoxicating aroma of cinnamon and sugar. I made a mental note to raid it later.

“Lorraine Whittle owns Honey Cake Sweets,” Reece said, noticing my gaze. “She’s a good friend of Louise’s. Her honey cakes are legendary. Prepare to be addicted.”

We stepped into Lava Java, and suddenly, the room went silent. Every eye in the place was fixed on me. I felt a blush creep up my neck. New girl in town, I reasoned. Happens all the time. But then their gazes shifted, lingering on Reece for a beat too long before they returned to their own conversations. It was strange, unsettling. I couldn’t quite articulate why.

We found a booth near the window, and I settled in, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched. Reece, ever perceptive, squeezed my hand reassuringly. “Don’t mind them,” he whispered. “Small towns, you know? Everyone’s curious.”

He launched into a story about how Mist had built up over the years, how he’d witnessed some of the buildings rise from the ground, brick by painstaking brick. His quiet fondness spoke of a deep-seated, palpable connection to the place. He pointed out landmarks, shared anecdotes, painting a vivid picture of Mist’s history.

I couldn’t wait to get my sketchpad out and find a comfortable place to sit and draw this beautiful town.

I told him about my life before my diagnosis. About my depressing stint in retail, folding endless piles of clothes for minimum wage in a chain department store in the city. About the brief, exhilarating freedom of running my own small photography business, capturing fleeting moments of beauty in the grimy urban landscape. About the art store I’d worked at just blocks from my cramped apartment, surrounded by colours and textures that sparked my imagination.

“The art store was my favourite,” I confessed. “I was right at home there. The people were eccentric, to say the least. But they had the best stories. I swear, some of them could write entire novels based on their trips to the grocery store.”

I launched into an absurd tale about a woman who swore she’d seen a rat riding a Roomba through the produce aisle, and Reece threw his head back and laughed. It was a genuine, unrestrained laugh that chased away the lingering unease and filled the small space with warmth.

“Just like your artwork, you have a gift for storytelling, Dawn,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye. “You make even the mundane sound extraordinary.”

“It’s not me,” I protested. “it’s the stories themselves. People are weird, Reece. Hilariously, wonderfully weird.”

We talked for hours, fuelled by caffeine and the sheer novelty of getting to know each other. The initial awkwardness had long since evaporated in the bedsheets, but now it had been replaced by a comfortable camaraderie, a surprising ease that defied the short time we’d known each other. It was as if we were two pieces of a puzzle, finally finding their rightful place.

But beneath the laughter and the calm conversation, a nagging worry persisted. How long could this last? How long before the inevitable overshadowed everything? I pushed the thought away, focusing on the present, on the warmth of Reece’s hand in mine, on the gentle hum of conversation around us.

For now, I was just Dawn, a girl in a small town, drinking coffee with a handsome stranger. For now, I was alive, and my bucket list could wait.

When we left Lava Java, the Honey Cake Sweets sign beckoned to me like a siren’s call. “We have to,” I said, already halfway across the street. “I can practically taste the cinnamon.”

Reece chuckled, shaking his head, but followed me nonetheless. The moment we stepped inside, I was enveloped in a cloud of sugary goodness. It was like walking into a childhood dream, a confectionary paradise where every surface was dusted with powdered sugar and every corner held a new temptation.

Lorraine Whittle, a young woman with a kind face, freckles dusting her nose and a stunning smile, greeted us. “Reece! Did Louise send you for her apricot swirls today?” before he could reply, her attention fell on me. “And who’s this lovely lady? A new face in town…” she trailed off, and her shoulders tensed.

Reece shared a knowing look with Lorraine that made her relax, but remained cautious. What was it about me these people were so concerned about?

“Lorraine, this is Dawn,” he said, placing a hand on the small of my back. “Dawn, this is Lorraine, the queen of confection.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dawn,” Lorraine said, her eyes twinkling. “If Reece isn’t grabbing something for the Lun—” she trailed off and regained her composure. “For Louise, then he must be here for you… Hmm,” she tapped her chin. “He must really like you.”

I blushed, feeling a warmth spread through me that had nothing to do with the oven. “Your bakery is incredible,” I said, my gaze sweeping over the display cases filled with every imaginable pastry. “Everything looks delicious.”

“Well, you’ll have to try something,” Lorraine insisted, her hand already reaching for a plate of honey cakes. “These are my signature. A little bit of sunshine in every bite.”

We each took a honey cake, and the moment the sweet, floral flavour hit my tongue, I closed my eyes in bliss. “Oh my god,” I mumbled, “This is amazing.”

Reece chuckled beside me. “Told you they were legendary.”

We spent the next hour sampling Lorraine’s creations, chatting about everything and nothing. For a woman only recently in her twenties, Lorraine was a beacon of light, a warm glow.

Someone like her would bring the light to James. I thought, my motherly match-making skills on high alert.

Outside, I turned to Reece. “She’s lovely.”

“Everyone here is,” he said, his eyes scanning the street with a hint of melancholy. “They’re good people, Dawn. They look out for each other.”

We walked in silence for a few minutes, bathing in the rays of a warm sun.

“So,” I said, breaking the silence, “What’s next on our Mist adventure?”

Reece seemed to shake himself out of his reverie. “I was thinking we take a walk up to the overlook,” he said, a spark returning to his eyes. “The view of the valley is stunning, especially at sunset.”