by Lyla Payne
“Following in your old man’s footsteps?”
“Yeah. You know me. The whole ghost-seeing isn’t enough.” I pause, more comfortable now and starting to feel hurt that he hasn’t brought up the recent change in his own life. They’d been dating a couple of months. Pretty much long term, as far as Leo is concerned, and I decide to throw caution to the wind. “I heard you and Victoria broke up.”
I take a swig of beer and watch him over the rim of the bottle. He doesn’t really react, though there might be a hitch in his chewing that says he’s surprised. Which is silly. He had to realize the news would be all over Heron Creek by the end of the weekend. If not before.
Hell, now that there’s a new hair salon, the gossip circulation speed will increase by at least thirty percent.
“Yep.”
I wait, but he doesn’t say anything more, which earns him an exasperated sigh. “Leo, come on! We’re friends, and I had to hear about it from LeighAnn at the library. You’ve been giving me great relationship advice about the mayor and me since that whole thing started. Let me return the favor.”
He gives me a wry smile. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate the offer, Bugs, but I don’t know. There’s not much to say. Same old story. It just didn’t work out.”
“But y’all were just in the library pulling permit paperwork, what, five days ago? What happened?”
“We got into an argument,” he says softly, closing the pizza box even though he’s only had three slices as opposed to his usual six or seven. “She’s, I don’t know…not very confident.”
I chew on that, along with my pizza, for a little while. “Is that a nice way of saying she’s jealous and possessive?”
Leo doesn’t reply around his beer, though he does tap his index finger on his nose three times to indicate that I’ve guessed correctly. It’s not a surprise, given how she treated me the first time we met…and how suspicious and put upon she’s acted every time we’ve run into each other since. I’m not even one of Leo’s exes, and he’s got more than a few of those running around town.
“You definitely don’t need that,” I inform him, even though he obviously knows. “I mean, we’re all about to be thirty. Who has time to constantly reassure someone you want to be with them?”
“First of all, we’re not about to be thirty. That’s four years away.” Leo gives me a look that makes me giggle. It’s funny to think of him caring so much about his age. “Second…you’re right. There were a lot of things I liked about her, but this one thing was a deal breaker. It was exhausting, and I’d only been doing it for two months.”
“Well, good for you.”
“Yeah. Good for me.”
We’re a depressing couple of people, that’s for sure. Even if Leo is sure that he made the right choice where Victoria is concerned, he’s not acting like himself. Similarly, even though I did the only thing I could with Beau, and there’s no way I can see him without backsliding, I’m definitely not in the happy, secure place I was over the holidays.
I give Leo a look of my own, standing up and grabbing the pizza box. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’re going to watch old movies and get drunk, just like you promised. And you’re doing it with me, so move your ass.”
“God, you’re so bossy.”
“You know you love me.”
He grumbles under his breath, but still gets to his feet and leads the way into the house. Leo pauses in the kitchen and grabs two more beers, plus a bottle of peppermint schnapps out of the cabinet above the fridge.
“That looks like a terrible idea.” Wariness rises into my chest. It’s been a long time since I’ve grabbed a drink with the intention of making myself forget the shit state of my life.
But right now there are plenty of things I’d like to lose sight of, if only for a night.
“It’s this or vodka. And I know how you feel about clear liquor.”
“That is clear,” I point out.
“Yeah, but it’s schnapps. It’s not real alcohol.”
“Famous last words,” I tell him as we take everything into the living room and he pops Stand by Me into the DVD player.
For the next couple of hours, we don’t talk about my court case. We don’t bring up Victoria or Beau, or the strange ghost of Lavinia Fisher. We drink, and we laugh at eighties’ middle school humor. My body feels hot by the time Leo gets up to change Stand by Me for The Goonies. Both are perfect picks—tonight is all about pretending we’re kids again. No worries and movies that bring a nostalgic smile to our faces without trying. When Leo sits back down and offers me another shot as the opening credits roll, he’s sitting closer than he was before.
My eyes keep trailing to his profile instead of staying focused on the screen. There’s never been any doubt that Leo is handsome, even if he’s never been the one to make my heart flutter in my chest.
Except, it’s kind of fluttering now.
It’s probably the booze and the heavy feeling in my stomach, flavored a bit by the fact that it’s been a while now since anyone has held me or made me feel wanted. Leo does that without trying, from across the room.
I can’t help but entertain the thought that the comfort he gives me as a friend would multiply if he were touching me. And what would it hurt? He and Victoria aren’t together anymore, and I’m single. Why shouldn’t the two of us use our closeness to feel better?
It’s a bad idea. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that. Sense that stepping over a line we’ve left uncrossed all of these years could lead to consequences that I’m not ready to consider right now.
But I ignore all of that.
Because I’m tired of thinking. The schnapps and the beer have helped—or maybe hurt—by shoving my inhibitions and higher brain function onto a high, barely visible shelf.
And when Leo notices I’m staring at him and starts to stare back, I don’t look away.
His cobalt eyes practically give off sparks, his intent gaze radiating heat through me. Even though the room seems blurry, slightly tilted, I can hear everything, including the way he starts breathing as quickly as I am all of a sudden.
“Gracie…” he breathes out, the sweet scent of peppermint on his breath. His gaze never leaves my face, though it darts to my mouth and then back up more than once.
When he licks his lips, I lose that last little bit of self-control and lean forward, putting one hand on his cheek as our lips crash together.
He tastes good, but also different than I expect. More exciting and less comfortable, more like I could drown in him for weeks without really understanding all of his pieces. Which is so Leo, really. His strong hands land on my hip and he squeezes, a groan escaping his chest that lands straight between my legs.
Leo’s tongue sweeps my lips open, insistent but gentle. My heart hitches, then speeds up as my fingers find their way into his silky hair.
And then he’s gone.
I open my eyes, surprise slowing my reactions, to find him sitting a good two feet away. He’s running his own hand through his hair now, and there’s a frustrated and very nearly angry expression on his handsome, slightly reddened face.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, hearing the defensiveness in my own voice.
“Gracie, I… We shouldn’t do this.”
Shame floods my entire body. He’s rejecting me. Leo’s rejecting me, and Lord if I do not feel like the dumbest woman alive. But when I finally find words to put to that feeling, they tumble out more angry than embarrassed.
I fold my arms over my chest, wishing they were made of actual armor instead of wimpy, pale flesh. “Fine. If you’re not attracted to me or whatever, that’s just fine.”
“Gracie, stop.”
I get up, wobbling more than a little, but side-step the hand Leo puts out to steady me. “No, I mean, honestly. If I’m not good enough for the infamous Leo Boone, even if literally everyone else in town is, then I should probably go.”
“That�
��s not fair,” he says, standing up to face me. His blue eyes have turned pleading. “Please, don’t do this. You…you’re not everyone else in town. Surely you know that.”
“I don’t know anything, Leo, because you don’t tell me anything!” All of the frustration of the past several months comes bubbling up and out in an attempt to deflect from the horrifying reality that I just threw myself at Leo. My face feels like it’s on fire.
“You don’t tell me what happened with your family, or why you don’t have a real job! Hell, I had to find out from someone else that you broke up with your girlfriend! So, how am I supposed to know anything? How am I supposed to think you and I are even friends?!”
I’m almost shrieking now, and that’s humiliating in itself. Leo just stands there like a statue, his hands fisted at his sides and that same desperate, haunted look on his face. Taking it. Not defending himself, not fighting with me.
“Don’t do this, Gracie. Please. You’re my best friend.” His voice is hoarse.
I can tell that he means it, but now that I’ve actually acknowledged how frustrated his lack of transparency makes me, I can’t turn back.
Instead of answering, I grab my purse and head for the front door.
“You can’t drive,” Leo says from behind me. “Leave your keys.”
“I’m not an idiot,” I snap. “Well, apparently I am, but not about everything. I’ll walk.”
“I… You shouldn’t walk by yourself. It’s late.”
“Yeah, and it’s Heron Creek. We both know I’ll be fine.”
I walk out and slam the door behind me, but don’t even make it to the end of the driveway before I hear it ease back open. Footsteps crunch on the cold pavement behind me. I don’t have to look to know that Leo’s following me, so I don’t. I can’t see him right now. Can’t glimpse the hurt on his face without losing my nerve, can’t look at him at all without remembering the raw humiliation endured mere minutes ago.
So I keep going. Leo stays back, giving me my space, because damn him, he does know me.
But I don’t know him. Not really. Maybe not at all.
He follows me the entire way home, stopping at the end of the driveway while I dig my house key out of my purse and shove it into the lock. Somewhere along the way tears began, and they’re frozen in tracks on my overheated cheeks. My stomach is a mess. My head pounds. I want to throw up, to purge this evening from my body along with the schnapps.
Leo’s still watching as I step inside and turn around to shut the door. Maybe I’m imagining it, since his face isn’t clear in the darkness, but it feels as if our gazes connect.
I frown. My heart is a tangle of sadness, anger, shame, and grief.
“Go home, Leo. Find a real best friend. One you can trust.”
I shut the door softly, even though slamming it would have given me more satisfaction. There’s a baby to think about, and apparently Jack’s happiness is already so deeply important to me that my instincts still kick in when I’m drunk as a skunk. And he’s not even mine.
The tears return as soon as I get into my room. I flop across the bed and curl up, my knees pressed into my chest, as I sob like I haven’t since Gramps died.
For some reason, the thought that my own stupid actions, and stupider reaction, could have cost me Leo tonight hurts more than the knowledge that Beau is already gone.
Chapter Seven
I would have liked to stay in bed nursing my hangover—and my pride—most of Saturday, but without Amelia to cover for me at the library, there’s no choice but to get up and moving. At least it’s a short day.
In fact, the thought of being able to come home and take a nap is the only thing that prods me out of bed on time.
Amelia takes one look at my face and pours me a second cup of coffee to-go. Good. Stopping at Westies could be dicey. The last thing I want is to run into Leo, and honestly, I’d rather not face another human being, period. Tears linger right behind my eyes, my emotions barely trapped beneath the surface of my skin.
Jack’s asleep in his rocker on the floor as Millie putters around the kitchen. She casts glances my direction but doesn’t make any sort of comment. The lack of nosiness isn’t like her, but she can probably sense that I’m one nudge away from being broken.
I slug back the first cup of coffee, along with a handful of Advil and two glasses of water, then grab the to-go mug she made me. “Thanks.”
“We’re getting a little old to overindulge with the alcohol, I guess.” She’s stepping carefully, her expression more sympathetic than prying.
“Definitely. Remind me of that the next time I go out with the intention of getting blitzed.” I pause, swallowing back emotion. “Can I take your car? I walked home.”
“Sure.” She doesn’t ask whether Leo walked me because of course he did. He always does. “Keys are on the table in the front hall.”
“Thanks,” I say again, anxious to escape before she decides it’s time to start asking questions about my evening.
The most innocent of inquiries will bring on the waterworks, no doubt. I’m not going to be able to avoid talking about what happened forever—she’s going to notice when Leo stops coming around, when we stop going for runs, and when I do everything within my power to avoid mentioning his name.
But it doesn’t have to be today.
I disengage the security system and undo the double locks on the front door—the back is similarly equipped after the last break-in—and slip out the front door and into Amelia’s car. A few tears escape without permission but I wipe them away, sucking in a few deep breaths in the process. My face is pale in the rearview mirror, and the heartbreak that’s tearing open my chest is reflected in my tired, bloodshot eyes.
Last night is a nightmare that has continued into today, and the thought of how every waking moment of my life is going to be different now claws at my ability to breathe.
No Leo stopping in with Marcella for story time. No runs by the water followed by chats that cause my world to make a little more sense. No cohort when activities of questionable legality become necessary.
Or you could just apologize for the things you said, a voice whispers from the back of my mind. It sounds like common sense, which is not something I hear often.
Definitely not from my devils.
I could apologize. I said things I shouldn’t have, brought up issues that are none of my business. Besides, it was a mistake to kiss him in the first place; I know that now. We were both drunk, we’re both hurting, and there was zero chance it wouldn’t have all ended in fiery disaster even if he had been into it at the time.
But that doesn’t take away the sting of his rejection. It doesn’t counteract the accusations I flung at him—if he wasn’t willing to trust me with his secrets, his truest self, or even the real reason he pulled away last night, then what kind of friends were we?
I’m feeling like an idiot all the way around, and by the time I sit behind my desk at the library, I’ve convinced myself that all of the closeness I’d felt between us over the past several months had been one-sided. That it had always been me spilling secrets, me clinging to him for support and advice, with no reciprocation.
Saturdays are busy at the library, with more children than during the week and a few more working moms coming in to grab reading material for weekend baths or to keep their kids quiet for more than an hour at a time. Which is all good—there’s pretty much no time to think about what happened at Leo’s last night, even if the painful wrench in my stomach won’t let me forget that something in my life is very, very wrong.
I don’t have time to even check my phone until about twenty minutes before we close for the day. It’s a relief to find a couple of texts from Travis waiting for me. Well, a relief that I’ll be able to stay busy into the evening; I’m not looking forward to traipsing all over the lowcountry to talk to extended family members who obviously want nothing to do with me. None of these mystery relatives came to the funeral Travis and I slapped togeth
er for Frank after my release from prison.
Though to be fair, that could have been because they didn’t think it was proper to attend a sendoff given by the woman accused of, you know. Actually sending him off.
I text Travis back to say that I’ll meet him at his house as soon as the library closes. There’s time to stop for lunch, but I can’t stomach the thought of food. Skip it. I can have dinner with Amelia later if we’re back in time.
Travis answers the door, looking oddly casual in a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a flannel shirt. He scans my face and frowns, leaving me to wonder how bad I still look—I didn’t bother to glance in a mirror all morning and more than one patron asked whether I was feeling all right, but what does it matter?
“Thanks for coming,” Travis says.
“I’m the one on trial, remember? I should be thanking you for giving up your day off to run around talking to people who probably don’t even know we exist.”
If my rough tone annoys or takes him aback, he doesn’t show it. He simply shrugs and steps out into the chilly, if sunny, afternoon. “You ready?”
“Yeah. I can drive.”
“Sure. We’re heading down to Savannah, but we’ll make a pit stop in a little town called Sheldon on our way.” He climbs into the passenger side of Amelia’s car and clicks his seatbelt into place.
I do the same. As I carefully back out of his graveled drive, it occurs to me that he only mentioned two stops. “I thought you said there were three people.”
“There were.” He blanches, staring out the window. “Turns out one of them died recently.”
My heart stops. Another dead Fournier? “When?”
“I don’t know. Recently, because she showed up in my search a week ago.”
“How?” The car noses its way toward the highway to Savannah. I figure Travis will tell me when I have to take a turn for the small town he mentioned.
“The obituary said a drug overdose. She was only in her fifties.”
“How was she related to Frank?” My mouth feels like sandpaper.
“A first cousin. I’ll give you her name later so you can see what else you can find out, if you want. The drug overdose seems legitimate based on the police report, though.” He pauses. “I also have that other name for you. My old hacker…guy.”