Page 29 of Counting Quarters

Chapter Sixteen

Blaire

“Iwanttocook you dinner,” I proclaimed to Kyle one evening.

He had just gotten home from work, or wherever he went most days, and I was waiting for him on the porch.

He stared at me, confused. “Do you know how to cook?”

I blanched, bending my wrist in mock offense. “Of course, I know how to cook, you ass. Don't be mean to me or I'll rescind my offer.”

Kyle raised his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine. When?”

“Tomorrow. I'll have it ready when you get off work?” I hadn’t intended for it to come out as a question.

Would he come home straight from work, or would he stop wherever else he went during the week?

I pushed the jealousy over the possibility that he was with another woman way into the back of my mind. It was truly none of my business.

“Sure. I'll eat anything.”

I nodded once, then turned on my heels to head toward my door.

“You aren't hanging out?”

If I didn't know any better, I'd say that was disappointment in his tone. But there was no way that was possible. Not for me.

A lot of our evenings were spent together lately, whether it be us trying to make sense of how to free the spirits that kept haunting me or just because we happened to run into each other on the porch.

And I'd stupidly begun looking forward to it.

I spent my entire life in a place where someone was always around to talk to. Kyle had neighbors, but they mostly kept to themselves. I grew terribly lonely in my short time here, especially since I had already isolated myself from everyone in the months I was wrapping my head around my new reality as a Quarter. I hardly even bothered to see my best friend, Storie, anymore. On top of it, I'd spent the majority of the last couple of weeks alone in Grammy's study, trying to find anything that mentioned erasing a spirit's memory.

I shrugged. “You're home late. I thought you'd be tired.”

Kyle looked at his watch as if he had no idea what time it was. “I'm up for company.”

Stupid butterfly wings fluttered against my stupid stomach as he stepped aside and let me into his portion of the house.

We've done this before, I reminded myself. He was obviously just lonely, and I happened to be here.

Still, that didn't stop my giddiness as he walked to the kitchen and grabbed two beers. Or when he handed me one, then unbuttoned his police uniform and fell onto the couch beside me. And it definitely didn't stop when he turned his body to face me and asked, “How was your day?” as if he were actually interested.

My smoke alarm went off when I opened the oven and black smoke came billowing out.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I grumbled to myself, bravely pulling out the cookie sheet of charred buns.

A firm knock sounded on the door, and I cursed again, flapping a dish towel in front of the alarm so it would stop beeping.

“Come in,” I shouted over the ridiculous sound.

“You shouldn't ever invite someone in before you see who it is,” Kyle lectured as he climbed up the stairs. Thankfully, I had gotten the alarm to quiet.

“Okay, officer,” I snarked.

“It smells great.”

He walked right into the kitchen with a teasing smile. His gray eyes found the blackened buns and tightened a little.

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