Page 41 of Haunted

I turn my head slightly and keep my voice low when I say, “Please step back, Theo. Aria’s in the hallway watching.”

I can practically hear his teeth grinding together as his jaw clenches. I’m surprised to see anger come over his face. I’m even more surprised by the tone of his voice.

“Aria,” he says harshly. “I told you to get in bed. I’ll be in there in a few minutes.”

Her already wide eyes turn to saucers. They dart from Theo to me, back to her father, before she turns and runs into the other room, slamming the door behind her.

Anger surges through me at the way he just spoke to Aria. It burns in my stomach because I know she’s already uncertain of me, and Theo has made that uncertainty grow.

When I push him again and he still doesn’t move, I know I’m taking a big chance when I reach for his side and twist the skin. My bravery grows when I hiss, “Move back.”

“Fuck,” he mutters, dropping the blanket and rubbing his side. His eyes narrow, and the look sends shivers across the back of my neck. “What the fuck was that for?”

I shove back the panic coursing through me at my bold move and tell him icily, “Your daughter was in the hallway. She didn’t need to see that. You wouldn’t move, so I made you.”

“Yes, and I told her to go to the room. We weren’t finished.”

“Yes, we were.”

Something dark and ominous enters his eyes for a split second before it’s gone. His face softens, and his gaze turns regretful. “I’m sorry.”

I remain rigid but give him a curt nod. When he takes a step toward me, I stiffen, and this time he stops.

“This is just so hard on me, Jules. I lost you for years, and I didn’t think I would get you back. It’s killing me not touching you.”

Guilt plagues me, because I know this isn’t easy for him. He remembers our time together. He remembers all the touches and looks and softly spoken words. It was him who went through the emotional pain of the accident, I’m sure leaving him feeling helpless because there was nothing he could do.

“I’m sorry,” I croak, tears clogging my throat.

“Don’t apologize. All I ask is for you to give me a chance. I know I can make you love me again.”

“Okay.”

We stand there in silence with several feet separating us for a moment, before he bends to grab the blanket.

“I’ll see you in the morning, Jules,” he states. “If you need anything, you know where I am.”

“Good night, Theo.”

He brushes his hand against my cheek. I hold still and wait for him to walk away before releasing a painful breath.

I don’t know how I’m going to pull it off, but I’m determined to do what he asked and give him the chance he deserves. I owe it to him and myself.

After changing into a pair of black sleep shorts and a light green T-shirt, I come back to Aria’s room and see a tan blanket, still folded, on Aria’s bed that Theo must have brought in while I was changing. Unfolding the blanket, I lay it out, and climb in bed then grab the cell phone Theo got for me from the nightstand. It doesn’t look as complicated as Theo’s, so it only takes me a few minutes to figure out how to work it. I close my eyes and try to recall the number that was on Theo’s phone when I tried to call my parents the other day in the hospital.

My eyes spring open when the number appears, and I dial it into the phone. I hold my breath while it rings, silently begging them to answer.

Disappointment and pain has my stomach bottoming out when the electronic voice comes across the line. I take a shaky breath before talking.

“It’s me again.” I clear my throat, but it still cracks when I speak again. “I’m so sorry for everything.” I pause, before begging, “Please call me.” I give them my number.

My chest is tight and it’s hard to swallow around the lump wedged in my throat when I hang up and put the phone back on the nightstand. I roll to my side and ignore the silent tears that creep from my eyes and onto the pillow.

13

LUCA

IPUNCH THE STEERING wheel and a deep growl rumbles from my throat. I look over at the house I’m parked in front of and silently curse my mom, Theo, and God for the shit situation I’m in.

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