Page 51 of The House Beyond the Dunes

He glances at my shoes. “No. Athletic shoes won’t cut it around here.”

“It’s all I have.”

“We can walk toward the house but not that close. The structure is not safe.”

“What’s going to happen to the house now?” I ask.

“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Kyle’s lawyer.”

I’m curious about the house, so I tug on my gloves, open my door, and step off the road toward it. I don’t wait for Reece to come around his truck and join me. Tall grass brushes the sides of my legs.

As I move closer to the structure, a knot tightens in my chest. If houses have an aura, this one’s very dark. My nerves draw tight like a stretching bowstring. I can’t reconcile the upbeat Kyle I knew with this place.

“When was the place abandoned?” I ask.

“Fifteen years ago, give or take.” I think about Stevie’s diary. She was taken to a place like this. Is this house the reason she’s reaching out to me?

I angle through the grass along a narrow footpath. The sandy ground is uneven and littered with old, corroded beer cans. This is perfect refuge for anyone looking to drink or do drugs.

I’m drawn to the house. I’ve always had a soft spot for broken people. I want to fix and rehabilitate them. Maybe houses are no different.

“Stop,” Reece says as he reaches out for my arm. His grip is firm but not painful. “There’s an abandoned well and septic field on the site. Both are nearby, and with all the grass growth, I’m not exactly sure where they are.”

I’m tempted to pull out of his grip and keep moving. I want—need—to know more about Kyle. And I suspect there are more answers in this old, discarded hovel than the pristine beach house.

I turn toward him. Frown lines are deeper around his mouth. “Aren’t you curious about the house?”

“No.” The tension radiating in him bleeds into me as I stare at the house. “A place like this has nothing good to offer.”

I disagree. Leaving this area will be hard without another visit. I’ll return alone. When Reece isn’t watching.

Chapter Thirteen

LANE

Sunday, December 31, 2023

10:30 a.m.

Reece parks his truck in front of Kyle’s house. When I get out, I glance back at him. He’s leaning toward the steering wheel, watching me. “Thanks for the tour.”

“Sure.” He runs fingers through his thick, dark hair. “Remember to stay away from that area. It’s not safe.”

“Is Earl going to be a problem?”

“Not if you stick to this area. He doesn’t like it up this way.”

“Okay.” I close the truck door.

Reece appeared after the fall and just now. It feels like he’s looking out for me. Maybe out of a sense of loyalty to Kyle.

The lines around his eyes and mouth, the strong jaw, and his broad, muscled shoulders create a sexy image. And I like him. Which doesn’t say much about me, considering forty-eight hours ago my almost-boyfriend and I had just arrived for a weekend getaway.

The tires of Reece’s truck grind against the sand as he turns his vehicle around and drives down the road toward the beach exit. I’m surprised he’s leaving.

I climb the stairs and plug in the security code numbers. The lock turns, and I push open the door.

After being in the cold on those deserted side roads, I’m oddly relieved to be back in this house even though it feels as if it still doesn’t want me. It might have begrudgingly welcomed me with Kyle, but now I’m the interloper. The trespasser. But it’s the closest thing I have to a home base today.

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