Page 40 of Haunted Hearts
“Are you pissed about Dylan? He deserved it, you know.”
“He did.” The corners of Lydia’s mouth quiver, and I can tell she’s holding back a smile. That, at least, is a relief. “Is that what you jogged over here to say?”
“No.” I take a deep breath, then just come out with it. “The finalized plans are approved.”
“I know,” Lydia says. She doesn’t look my way.
“You do? Nancy told you?”
“What are you talking about? I was there at the stakeholder meeting.”
I shake my head. “No, I mean…approvedapproved. Like, done. We’ve started the bidding.”
Lydia stops walking. The wind has blown her long hair across her face, and she shoves it aside. “Wait—so that’s it? There’s nothing you can do to stop it now?”
Well, this is awkward.
“I mean… I could, I guess, in theory… but no. It’s progressing.”
Lydia goes completely stone-faced. I can almost feel the adrenaline rush through her body as she processes the news and what it means for any hope she might’ve had left. Although surely by now shemustknow I’m not going to magically give up a career-changing project, nor is the board going to magically change its mind about the renovation. Theyvotedon it, for Christ’s sake.
If Lydia was going to say something, she’s thought better of it. She starts walking again, faster now, and I can’t tell if she’s about to burst into tears and wants to make it home before that, or if she’s trying to outpace me, leaving me behind in a flurry of fallen leaves.
“Lydia.”
I’m jogging to keep up with her, but she doesn’t answer. She just rounds the corner, looks both ways, and crosses to the other side of the street. I realize I have no idea where she’s going, but I follow her anyway, coming to a stop behind her as she pulls up onto the front stoop of a cute little house a few blocks away.
She glares back over her shoulder as she unlocks the door. “Why are you still here?”
“You’re pissed, and I don’t like it.”
Lydia snorts. “Ha.Youdon’t like it.”
“That’s right. I don’t like it when someone who doesn’t deserve to be hurt gets hurt. And don’t even try to tell me you’re not—it’s written all over you. I think we… got caught up in stuff. I just wanted to sort it out with you, make sure everyone’s on the same page.”
Lydia throws her hands in the air helplessly. She pushes the door open and steps inside, not bothering to close it, which Itake to mean she’s okay with me following her. Or at least not going to, like, pull a knife on me.
As I close the front door softly behind me, my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s the second time in the last ten minutes, but whoever it is can wait. This conversation is important, and I need to stay focused, present.
Lydia’s already made her way through the entryway to the kitchen and is filling up a glass of water from the fridge. Her house is simple, one of those minimalist motifs, with tiny pops of color here and there. It’s really homey, which is honestly no surprise. It fits her somehow.
Lydia leans back against the counter, dark eyes glaring at me as she sips her water. Her hair is tangled from the wind, but it’s as beautiful as it’s ever been, and I’m trying really fucking hard not to think about pulling it. Or what we were doing while I pulled it the other night. Or where my dick was.
Fuck.
Focus, Will.
I pull out a barstool at the counter and sink down onto it. Lydia just eyes me, but she doesn’t tell me to get up. I clear my throat.
“So you only just found out the plans are approved?” Lydia’s eyes are boring holes into my skull.
“I’ve known since Monday,” I admit. I don’t like where this is going.
“You’ve known since Monday,” Lydia repeats. She’s got the snide look of someone who’s predicted something terrible would happen and has just been proven right. “So, you’re saying you knew about this the other night? The other night when—when we…”
Well, shit. I’ve got only myself to blame here. I should have expected this.
“Yes. I’m sorry.”
