Page 12 of All Our Secrets

“Peyton called me,” I finally said.

“Thanks for coming, but we’re good now.”

I waited for what Gerald would say next, hoping he’d give me an excuse to go to the hospital or to stay. Anything that involved Peyton. “I’m going to head on to the hospital. Go home and rest.”

I rubbed my neck and exhaled. “I’m going to check the house again. I’ll lock up when I leave.”

“All right.”

I swallowed my disappointment as I watched Gerald walk over to his driveway and leave. Yeah fucking right. There was no sleeping when I knew Peyton was in labor. She’d likely kill me if I showed up to check on her at the hospital too—that’show much she despised me. She had good reason. But she didn’t know how hard I fought these feelings raging inside me. A beast on a leash, barely holding himself steady. Too many words, too many glances from his Peyton, and he might break free. He ripped the collar to shreds anyway, though.

Now I was always there when she didn’t want me to be.

Glancing at Peyton’s home, I scowled. Where could the intruder have gone so quickly? I walked around the house twice more and searched inside again.

I rubbed my forehead. The pounding in my skull was a full-blown headache now. Peyton couldn’t stay here alone. And I was exhausted from an argument I hadn’t yet had with her. I didn’t care who she stayed with or vice versa. A pang snagged my chest. Okay. I did. I didn’t trust anyone to keep her safe as well as I could. Gerald was too chill for my liking, and Rosie was Rosie. And Peyton was stubborn and would refuse all reason in order to maintain her privacy.

I stepped into the hallway, stopping at Peyton and Theodore’s wedding picture hanging on the wall. Their smiles twisted my insides. I had refused to be his best man. I hadn’t even gone to the wedding. Instead of not going, I should have come clean before these emotions overwhelmed me.Before the fucking wedding. And yet—

A loud thud came from behind me. Twisting around, I pulled my pistol out and held it at my side as the front door slammed open.

“Show yourself,” I warned. “I don’t play games.”

A translucent hand flattened on the door with a slap. My heart roared in my ears. I blinked, my entire body locking in place as I stared at the blond figure staggering through the door. Right then, I truly believed my guilt had swallowed me whole.

That’s not possible.

I gawked, and the hold on my gun slackened as my entire body shook. The weapon clattered to the floor, but the, the, theTheodorenever noticed the echo of the metal hitting the hardwood.

He’s not real.

He couldn’t be. Theodore was dead. The figure was transparent, but I’d recognize those dirty steel-toed boots anywhere, because those same ones were still resting beside the door in Peyton’s home. He wore a white hoody and faded jeans. The silhouette leaned against the doorway, banging the knob on the wall.

“Baby, I’m home.”

Chills swept up my spine at Theodore’s familiar voice.

When he staggered toward me, I waited. Spellbound or terrified, I wasn’t sure. A cold draft passed over me as he slipped through me. Only then did I move. Turning around, I watched the figure sway up the steps, calling for Peyton every few seconds.

What?

I wasn’t crazy. If anything, I believed myself to be temperamentalbecauseI had no tolerance for bullshit. Seeing what I saw would be one of those things I’d call bullshit on. But—

Did. I. Just. See. A. Fucking. Ghost?

Impossible.

Was my guilt so severe that I manifested my best friend into hallucinations?

With a shaky breath, I crept up the steps where Theodore had gone. He wasn’t there. Just as I stepped into Peyton’s room to get a better look, the doorknob smacked against the wall downstairs again. Running down the steps, I found Theodore doing exactly the same thing he had before.

“Baby, I’m home.”

∞∞∞

Theodore

Whoa.

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