Page 90 of The Haunting of Lockton
He laughed then too. “I’ve seen you in the sun, Ichabod. You don’t sparkle at all.”
Maybe we couldn’t have forever. But did that mean we couldn’t enjoy the time we did have? Did everything have to last forever for it to matter?
As he shoved me onto the bed and stripped me of the rest of my clothes, flashing me that heart-stopping smile that never failed to awaken the butterflies in my stomach, I had my answer. No. It didn’t have to last forever.
But I wished more than anything it could.
***
“Man. I could get used to this.” Skyler stepped up behind me at the stove and snaked his arms around my waist, kissing the top of my shoulder. “Waking up to you cooking.”
I had woken before him that morning and started making breakfast. Alan had joined me in the kitchen and brewed the coffee. I had graciously downed a mug in between cooking, needing the caffeine boost after the late night. My muscles were sore in all the best ways, and Skyler had bitten my nape at some point because the skin was tender and slightly indented.
“I see.” I used a spatula to shift the french toast from the skillet to the plate, then removed the other and turned off the burner. “My food is all you like.”
Skyler’s body shook with a quiet laugh. “Not the only thing. I like this too.” He groped my ass.
“Hey!” I jerked around, spatula in hand. “Don’t make me swat you. Because I will. I’m armed and dangerous.”
“You’re dangerous, all right.” He moved in closer and rose up just enough to softly kiss me. “Dangerous for my goddamn heart.”
I knew the feeling well. Which was why I gently pulled away from him and continued preparing breakfast. “I made french toast and scrambled eggs. Do you like powdered sugar on your toast?”
“Hell yeah. Powder those babies up.” Skyler rested his hip against the counter and watched me move around. If he’d noticed a change in my behavior, he didn’t show it. “Do you know a dude named Callum?”
“Hmm.” I plated our food and carried it to the table, running the name over in my head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Why?”
“Julian and I found a mystics shop yesterday and met him. He’s the owner.”
“Wait. The mystics shop?” I returned to the counter and grabbed a mug from the cabinet for him, setting it beside mine. “I know the place. It’s run by the Gray family. Val shops in there all the time and mentioned the owner’s son recently took over.”
“Ah, okay. Cool.” Skyler sidled up next to me, and our hips brushed together. “He was an oddball.”
“The Grays have quite the reputation around town.” I filled his mug before topping off mine. “In the back room of the shop, they offer tarot readings, fortune-telling, and stuff like that.”
“For real?” He added a staggering amount of sugar and milk to his coffee, making it so pale it couldn’t even be considered coffee anymore. “That adds up. Callum seemed to know things he shouldn’t have known. Like. The dude read my mind, I shit you not. Then he said some things to Julian that were a little too coincidental.”
“Well, the two of youarecelebrities of sorts,” I pointed out, then bumped his arm. “Don’t let that inflate your ego.”
“Too late.” A smirk. He followed me to the table and sat beside me. “But yeah, he knew we were ghost hunters. He also knew about Julian’s gift. And that’s something we’ve never talked about in our show or anywhere else.”
Alan materialized in the chair across from me. Skyler jumped and nearly spit out his coffee. My best friend ignored the fact he’d nearly killed my… what was the right label for Skyler? Friend with benefits? Lover?
“The Grays were well-known when I lived as well,” Alan said. “Some claimed they were witches. Townsfolk were uneasy around them. Until they needed their services anyway.”
“What kind of services?” I asked.
“I once heard of a girl who was thought to be demon possessed,” Alan answered. “The Grays helped her after the family reached out. There were also mentions of seances to help people communicate with departed loved ones. Potions, too, that were said to heal those with incurable illnesses. All speculation at the time, of course.”
“So the usual psychic stuff,” Skyler said.
“Perhapsusualisn’t the right word. The Gray family is anything but.” Alan looked at me. “In 1911, or maybe 1912, I can’t recall the exact date, there was an incident at Lockton Asylum. A patient uprising that left many dead and wounded.”
“The riot,” I said with a nod. He and I had discussed Lockton before, so I knew he’d been around during the time it was open.
Skyler tore into his french toast and closed his eyes as a groan left his lips. “Oh my god. I never knew paradise until now. Pillowy soft and sweet. The food of the gods.”
“Would it be possible for me to eat that next Halloween?” Alan asked, staring longingly at Skyler’s plate.
