Page 23 of His to Haunt

My eyebrows shoot up. “Not sure yet.”

I doubt any club that was operational while Mom attended U of S is still a thing. Even if it were, goth clubs aren’t my thing.

When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I’m fuming. Who the hell does Zand think he is anyway? Coming in here when I’m not home and giving shit to my mom? Telling her to finish making this freaky piece of art? He’s an artist, so why can’t he finish it himself? The man is too much.

Seems it’s time to have another little chat with him over boundaries. But this time, it’ll be me who is drawing the line.

I’m on the front porch, ready to confront him, when Kimmie arrives in her yellow Volkswagen Beetle aka her bug. The minute she steps foot out, it’s like a breath of fresh air, giving me insta-tears.

Kimmie has been the constant sister I never really had, and she was one of the better things about my old, small, college-town life. I hated leaving her behind.

“Poor girl,” she says, throwing her arms around me.

“Just a rough day. I’ll be okay,” I smile. “How are you?”

“Finally here! Holy cow, Leena. This place is insane,” she gleams approvingly. Kimmie always did have a taste for weird things. Probably why she likes me.

“Wait until you see the inside.”

We stand in the driveway, gawking at the enormous, sprawling spectacle. She’s the only one in my former circle who knows I’m living in an old funeral home.

There is a banging sound in the direction of the gardens, and we both turn our heads.

“Ooh-la-la, can I see the garden first?”

“Mm…sure,” I say, warily doing an analysis of Zand’s vehicle count. The van is under the carport, and the Camaro is gone. So, he’s not here. Good. Free range!

“I’ll show you where my gorgeous asshole landmate lives,” I say, leading her down the path. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him and his overinflated ego.

“Really? Is this the groundskeeper you were talking about?”

“Yep. He’s a Byron.”

“I see. So, tell me more about the gorgeous part.”

“You’ll see him. But be warned. His personality doesn’t match his good looks. Actually, now that I mention it. He’s so good-looking that you almost expect him to be a jerk. Good-looking in a supernatural way. Like the hot vampire villain in a movie. That kind of good-looking.”

“Holy shit! Sounds seriously hot. So…you already have it bad for him, eh?”

“No way, hon. He’s creeping me out.”

“Fuck, those are high hedges!” she squeals. Her contagious energy is already rubbing off on me, and I feel better than I have since I left home.

It wasn’t easy leaving everything behind, but at the same time, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

For one, our little house was falling apart, and I couldn’t get a good job nearby to pay to fix it. Even with both our combined incomes, we couldn’t afford the massive rise in property taxes that hit us. Added to my college debt, we were in a world of financial shit. Then, this bittersweet opportunity came along, thanks to Rachel putting me in her will. Even if it did mean leaving the place where I spent half my childhood, it was worth it, career-wise.

At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself.

Stacy was right. The manor does need a new roof. We put out every pot and bucket we could find during the storm, and there were still leaks dripping down in random places.

Regardless, every home needs repairs. The important part is that I will actually be making a real income to pay for things.

“That’s the place,” I say, pointing to the carriage house, which looks like a tiny version of the manor, grey and gothic and Victorian.

“Ooh, let’s snoop,” whispers Kimmie with a devilish curve of the brow.

“Bad idea,” I say, but she’s already skipping ahead and, within seconds, has her eyes glued to the front window, peering in.

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