Page 142 of Clean Slade
I bit my tongue and served the pancakes, and as we ate, I stared at Slade, who stared back.
It was only when we’d almost finished that he rolled his eyes and submitted to my quiet plea.
“Are you sure?” he asked after I got dressed and before I left the house.
“One hundred percent,” I replied.
We’d made a backup plan for that exact reason. And if words weren’t going to do it…
“Be careful,” he whispered.
He planted a discreet kiss on my forehead, and I jumped into my car.
Why couldn’t these people leave us alone for once? My father was out of the picture, my brother was actually being a decent human being—as decent as any mobster could be—and Slade was in our lives for good.
Couldn’t we enjoy it? Why did we still have to deal with bullshit?
It wasn’t long before I was knocking on a large white door and waiting for an answer.
“King! Hi. What are you doing—” Hannah asked as soon as she saw me.
“Let’s cut the crap, Hannah, shall we? Your little brat needs to leave my daughter alone, understood?”
Hannah brought her hand to her chest and gasped.
“What are you talking about? Don’t call my daughter a brat.”
“I’ll stop calling her that when she stops being one. She’s a bully, and she needs to be stopped. Do you know what she said yesterday? That Mac’s an orphan. Like, what the fuck, Hannah?”
“Well, honey, isn’t she?”
It was my turn to gasp.
“I see where she gets it from now. You may act all sweet and innocent, but you’re rotten inside. Your daughter’s a bully because you’re a bully.”
“How dare you—”
“I’ve had enough of you and your brat. I expect a full apology by Monday, and after that, Grace will leave my daughter alone. She won’t look at her, talk to her, talk about her, or else.”
Hannah put her hands on her hips and smacked her lips.
“Or else what, Kingston? Or else what?”
I leaned forward and whispered.
“Have I told you I’m a witch?”
Hanna’s face creased, but before she could speak, I continued.
“Yeah, I’m a witch. I talk to ghosts, and…they tend to do my bidding. Maybe I’ll have a word about this place. It’s been a while since they haunted someone.”
“What the hell are you talking about? Have you lost your—”
The doorbell rang, making Hannah jump. She glared at me, but my hands were firmly in my pockets.
“I don’t know who you think you—”
The doorbell rang again.
