Page 38 of His to Haunt

He comes over with a blanket and his phone. He drapes the blanket across me and Kimmie.

“Tell me your number.”

For once, he doesn’t look so cold and edgy; the prominent bones in his face are relaxed. His crazy, stormy eyes captivate me, pulling me in like a kaleidoscope of waves, making me swirl in the undertow. Bermuda Triangle eyes.

I tell him my phone number, and he types it into his phone before producing a key from his pocket. He holds it out to me, dropping the golden Ahnk in my hand.

I look at the gold key with the tiny dot pattern. Three dots lined up diagonally like on dice. “Thank you.”

He turns and walks to the fridge, clicks a switch on an old-looking radio with a huge antenna, the red light on it turning dark. Then he turns down the lights and disappears behind the curtain. I push and pull on Kimmie before laying my head back on the sofa in defeat. I’ll give her a few minutes, then try again to wake her.

But waiting slips into the deep of night, and hours pass before we wake to the welcoming smell of coffee.

Zand doesn’t join us for the scrambled eggs he made us. His front door is wide open in the sunlight, and he’s trimming the hedges just out front. I’m eager to leave his private space and not overstay our welcome.

“The eggs are perfect,” says Kimmie, and I can’t disagree. Lightly buttered, peppered, with a sprinkling of cheese. I suppose this means Zand and I are on better terms. So, posing for him was worth something.

I say that now, but I’m worried he’ll expect my clothes to drop in the upcoming sessions. But I can worry about that more later. I’m utterly grateful that it’s sunny out.

“We should explore the grounds,” I say. “I’ve only seen a bit of the garden. You know this is on five acres?”

“Wow. Yeah, lets. I need to walk off this hangover.”

“Drink more water.”

Worried over Kimmie’s sickly pale complexion, I refill the large glass. Zand supplied those, too, along with orange juice, toast, and a bottle of organic strawberry preserve. He gardens, cooks, and paints. Besides being spiteful that I stole his house out from under him, which is understandable, he’s admittedly a cool guy, in addition to being supernaturally attractive.

Okay, I forgive him. Fresh start, I think, with a smile.

On our way out, I thank him, asking if there is a path through the woods.

At first, he seems reticent but then points us toward the carport.

“Stay on the path,” he says.

“Okay,” I nod, our eyes locking briefly. He has a conflicted look in his dreamy, grey-blue eyes. He still isn’t sure about me. But something inside him has softened slightly. Maybe that is the part he’s struggling with.

Our expectations of this arrangement may not be aligned. If I’m just a means to an end, and if he plans to fight the will again. But time will tell.

At least there is some progress.

I’m thinking about this while leading a sluggish Kimmie up the path, glancing back at her with a smile every few minutes for encouragement. She won’t be her uber-energetic self for a few hours or so. Maybe not until tomorrow, just in time to drive herself back home. Sucks, but it is what it is.

Inhaling the earthy forest, the wild round oaks supply the damp ground with fresh fall leaves amidst the towering redwood pine. I let my mind relax, my subconscious taking over, sorting the riddles, applying reason to the question marks, and devising a plan.

So, the Byron’s have secrets, all families do. But no, according to Rachel, there is more to it than that. After this walk, while Kimmie is recovering, I should make some time to look into Rachel’s belongings, as requested. I’d rather begin this process while Kimmie is here for moral support. The same feeling of dread settles in my gut over prying into my big sister’s personal life.

I don’t want to know, but I must.

Keys

Leena

It’s time.

My clothes are planned out for my internship tomorrow, prepped and hanging.

Kimmie is sleeping. Mom is doing her needlework. Reminds me that I forgot to ask Zand why he gave her that. Not at the top of my priority list though.

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