“You know, I wanted to say something to you at the Dragonfly, but I didn’t feel it was appropriate in front of Dad.”
“What’s that?”
“I have two fathers,” I choked out, the tears returning for an entirely different reason. “You’re always there for me. I don’t know that I can ever thank you, but … thank you.”
“Oh, please don’t cry.” Chief Terry looked as if he wanted to find a closet to hide in. “I hate it when you cry.”
“Well, good news for you then,” Aunt Tillie announced, barreling through the open door with a broom in her hand. “I make the world a better place with my mere presence. She’ll be smiling in seconds.”
Chief Terry offered me a stiff pat on the shoulder before facing off with my great-aunt. “I’m surprised you even know what a broom looks like, let alone what it does.”
“Oh, ye of little of faith,” Aunt Tillie shot back. “Brooms are for riding.”
“Ugh. This family makes me tired sometimes,” Chief Terry muttered. “I’m going to start with the locks. You two do … whatever it is you plan to do.”
“We plan to turn this endeavor into a movie,” Aunt Tillie supplied.
“A movie?’ Chief Terry furrowed his brow. “What … like Mrs. Doubtfire?”
“You’re showing your age, Terry.” Aunt Tillie made a clucking sound in the back of her throat as she studied the destroyed room. “Have you ever seen a little movie called Fantasia? It’s a cartoon, so it really can’t be dated.”
It took me a moment to get what she was insinuating. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“You’d be surprised what I’d dare to do,” Aunt Tillie said. “Now … step back. I’ll have this place put back together in five minutes. Time me. Oh, and I need you to find my shovel. I thought I left it by the back door, but it’s missing again.”
“What’s with you and the shovel?”
“I like to bury things. Sue me.”
IT TOOK LONGER than five minutes – and Aunt Tillie’s efforts were more Home Alone than Fantasia at times – but by the time Clove, Sam, Thistle, Marcus, Mom, Marnie and Twila showed up we had the makings of a productive day.
Mom and Twila carried the bulk of the laundry to The Overlook. They had multiple sets of washers and dryers and could tear through the loads quickly. Someone had to stay at the inn and help the guests if necessary, but they did their share.
Marnie, who’s something of a workhorse, stayed behind. She tackled the kitchen with little preamble, slapping it together in less than two hours, while Thistle and I set our bedrooms right and everyone else took on the bathroom and living room. By the time we were done the guesthouse looked as good as new. Sure, I still felt a bit of trepidation when I glanced at the hallway where I was attacked, but the new locks went a long way toward making me feel safe.
By nightfall, only Thistle, Marcus, Sam and Clove remained. Thistle technically still lived in the guesthouse even though she spent half her nights at Marcus’ apartment, and Clove decided that she and Sam would join us for martinis and spend the night so we could have something akin to a sleepover. Thistle promptly rolled her eyes at the suggestion, but I liked it. The fuller the guesthouse felt the less likely I was to panic at a moving shadow.
As if sensing my potential distress later in the night, Landon moved to the floor next to me on one side of the coffee table and topped off my chocolate martini before grabbing a deck of cards.
“Who wants to play a game?”
“Seriously? We’re going to play card games?” Thistle didn’t look thrilled with the notion. “I think we should play Twister or something.”
“That sounds weird; we’re adults,” Landon argued.
“It’s only weird because we have no clothes – and that includes underwear, mind you – to change in to tomorrow morning, so it’s like we’d be playing Twister in our pajamas.”
“That reminds me, I gave your mother the key to the Explorer,” Landon told me. “They’re putting all of the laundry in the hatchback. We can drive it back to the guesthouse after breakfast tomorrow, so we’ll have to wear the same clothes up to the inn tomorrow morning. They also dropped off a bag of pajamas for everyone at the front door the last time they were down here. It’s not much, but it’s something.”
“That sounds good.” I rested my head against his shoulder, listening to the wind howl outside. “Sounds like a big storm is brewing.”
“Yeah, we’re supposed to get a series of them throughout the week,” Thistle said. “That’s going to put a real damper on the Halloween festivities, but if we’re lucky they’ll still get the trick-or-treating in on Friday.”
“That would be nice.” I moved Landon’s hand from the cards and flipped it over, tracing his lifeline as I stared. “Thank you for getting everyone to help even though I expressly forbade you to do it.”
“Oh, that was a backhanded compliment if I ever heard one,” Thistle teased, amused. “That’s like ‘thank you for the chlamydia even though I told you not to screw around.’”
Marcus barked out a laugh, genuinely amused. “That was a lovely sentiment, honey.”
“I try.”
“What’s going to happen now?” Sam asked, sobering. “The state police can’t possibly think you killed that woman, can they?”
“I don’t think they believe Bay did it,” Landon answered for me. “I am, however, worried they’ll try to prove she did it.”
Clove made a strange sound as she swallowed. “You think they might try to frame her?”
“I think I don’t like or trust Davis,” Landon replied, choosing his words carefully. “I also think Noah has a vendetta regarding this family.”
“So what do we do?” Thistle asked. “Do we pack up and head for Canada?”
Landon cocked an eyebrow, amused. “Are you going to run with Bay if it comes to it?”
“She’s not going to run alone.”
“No, she’s not,” Landon agreed. “If it comes time to run, I’ll go with her. We’ll contact all of you when we get settled.”
The matter-of-fact way he delivered the words was like a punch in the gut. “Landon, you can’t be serious.”
“I have faith in the system, and I’m going to work within it,” Landon said. “That doesn’t mean I’ll give you up … or let you go to prison for something you didn’t do. If it comes to a choice of letting them take you or running, we’re going to run.”
I was dumbfounded. “What about your job?”
“I care about you more than the job. This past month taught me that.”
“It should’ve taught you to call when you’re in public and pretend you don’t know your girlfriend,” Thistle muttered, averting her gaze.
“Thank you, Thistle.” Landon’s eyes flashed. “I made a mistake. We’re trying to move on from it. We can’t do that if you keep bringing it up.”
“Fine.” Thistle blew out a sigh. “What about that Doug guy? Are there any leads on him?”
“He’s in the wind,” Landon answered, turning toward the window when the bush outside brushed against the glass. “We might have to use alternative means to find him.”
I knew exactly what he meant by that. “A locator spell?”
Landon nodded. “I don’t want to resort to that, but we might not have a choice. I need to give it some serious thought before agreeing to it, though.”
“When do you want to do it?”
“We’ll talk about it over breakfast tomorrow,” he replied, rolling to his knees and leveling a pointed gaze on me. “If we’re not going to play cards, I’m going to bed. I don’t think getting super drunk will help us. Besides, there’s another game I want to play once we’re alone.”
“Such a smooth talker,” Marcus teased, grinning.
Landon ignored him. “Let’s go to sleep, sweetie.”
“I want nothing more than to sleep in our bed,” I said, grabbing his hand. “It’s good to be home again.”
Landon merely smiled, serene. �
�You have no idea.”
Twenty-Two
I felt twinges of panic several times throughout the day, usually at obscure moments when I felt isolated (even though someone was always close as we cleaned the guesthouse). I had no intention of telling anyone about my feelings. I figured it was something I would have to work through on my own.
Landon was having none of that. He seemed to sense my distress before I could register it myself.
“Here.” He handed me flannel pajama pants and a T-shirt, items he collected from the bag by the door before following me into the bedroom. “I’ll grab you some socks.”
I watched him a moment, dumbfounded. “I thought you would want to … you know.”
Landon smirked. “We’re both exhausted. I think you need sleep more than anything else. We’ll discuss … you know … in the morning.”
I bit the inside of my cheek, unsure. “Are you angry?”
Landon’s expressive face flooded with surprise. “Why would I be angry?”
“I don’t know. It’s just … I feel the need to apologize and I can’t explain it.”
Landon planted his hands on his narrow hips. “I feel odd making demands given the situation.”
“I’ve never heard you demand sex,” I pointed out.
“Not that.” Landon made a face that bordered on hilarious, which eased a bit of the tension in the room. “I’m talking about the fact that you keep apologizing. Bay, you didn’t do anything wrong. You need to stop saying ‘I’m sorry’ whenever you turn around. You’re only supposed to apologize when you’ve done something to truly be sorry for. That doesn’t apply to you in this situation.”
“Because you should’ve called that day after we ran into each other at the corn maze and now you’re the one who should be apologizing?” I was going for levity. I knew Landon was treading very close to the edge when it came to jokes about his behavior that day. He’d yet to fly off the handle – he was holding tightly to his anger and I had a feeling it was because he didn’t want to make things worse for me – but it was coming.
“You’re funny.” Landon tapped the end of my nose. “It bothers me when you apologize for anything that has happened here. I’m not going to lie. You’ve done things on occasion that you needed to apologize for and thought you didn’t do anything wrong. That’s not what’s happening here. You didn’t do this.”
“You didn’t either.”
Landon cocked a dubious eyebrow. “No? None of this would’ve happened if I hadn’t been undercover.”
“That’s your job.”
“But it’s not your problem to worry about.”
I balked at his tone. “I thought you said we were a team. My pain is your pain, right? Your trouble is my trouble and all that other crap.”
Landon pursed his lips to keep from laughing. “You have such a way with words, Bay. It’s like loving a poet.”
I ignored his sarcasm. “You didn’t cause this and it bothers me when you blame yourself.”
“I did cause some of this,” Landon argued. “I refuse to fight about it, though. This is our first night back together under this roof. We both need sleep. It’s been a long day, and I think we’re going to have another long one tomorrow. All that taken into consideration, I’ve decided to simply agree with you because I’m too tired to fight.”
Winchesters like to win arguments, but it wasn’t much of a resounding victory. I was too exhausted to press him on the issue. I was also too stubborn to completely let it go. “Intentions mean as much as actions, and you were trying to give me a gift by not going undercover any longer. That’s the most important part.”
Landon’s expression softened. “The gift was for me as much as you. When I first joined the bureau I thought I’d always want to be undercover. It sounded exciting, and I loved a good adventure. That’s not what I find exciting any longer.”
“Is this story going to a dirty level, or is it all going to be about bacon?”
Landon snickered. “It’s going to a mushy place,” he replied. “I find that the things that drew me to undercover assignments no longer exist. I still have nonstop adventures, don’t get me wrong. These days they’re with you.”
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat without falling to pieces. “You’re kind of charming when you want to be. You know that, right?”
“I do.” Landon bobbed his head in confirmation and then pointed toward the bed. “Change into your pajamas and get in. We’ll handle the romance end of things in the morning.”
“Oh, that was less charming,” I teased, although I did as he instructed. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sleep out of fear, but I’d imbibed just enough that I knew sleep wouldn’t elude me. “You did it on purpose,” I mused. “You had me drink just enough that I’ll pass out, but not enough that I’ll be hungover tomorrow.”
Landon averted his gaze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“It’s true,” I countered, amused. “You handled me, and I didn’t even realize it was happening.”
“I thought it would be good for both of us,” Landon conceded. “I don’t want you afraid in your home. That will kill me. Still, it wouldn’t be unusual for you – or someone in the same position as you – to be nervous about spending the night here. You haven’t been back since it happened. Once you get this first night behind you, things will be better.”
“Even when it was happening, I wasn’t afraid.” I tugged the fresh T-shirt over my head and met his gaze, hair sticking out in a hundred different directions. “I was worried about you finding me dead, but I wasn’t afraid.”
“Don’t ever say that.” Landon extended a warning finger. “I don’t want you to be afraid, but … I need you to have a healthy fear of death. I plan to spend a lot more time with you before everything. You need to be alive to enjoy it.”
“Duly noted.” I climbed into my pajama pants before slipping under the covers. Landon waited until I was settled before killing the light and climbing in next to me. I rolled so I could rest my head on his chest and he tugged me close as we sighed in unison.
“This feels right, doesn’t it?”
Landon grunted in agreement. “It’s what I dreamed about while I was gone. Er, well, I added bacon to the mix.”
I snorted. “You never know. Once this is settled, maybe your dream will come true.”
“And that right there is why I love you.”
“Right back at you.”
I SLEPT hard and woke slowly, taking a long time to gauge my surroundings. I’d been away from my bed for several nights, but the comfort of familiarity returned right away and I knew I was home. Darkness told me it was late.
I glanced to my left, finding Landon dead to the world. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his breathing even and soothing. I put my fingers in front of his lips. Even though it was obvious he slept without issue, I found the need to reassure myself with his hot breath on my knuckles. He was fine. He was with me, safe. That’s not what woke me.
I linked my fingers and rested them on my stomach, staring at the ceiling as I listened to the sounds of the guesthouse. For years it was just Thistle, Clove and me inside these walls. We lived together, played together. We laughed together and talked about love together. That love was always far off and distant when we chatted over flavored martinis. We considered ourselves too young to settle down. Our mothers settled down young, after all, and we didn’t want our husbands to run screaming from us at the first sign of trouble.
Landon had seen more trouble than most men would tolerate. Marcus and Sam, too, but especially Landon. He considered himself a good agent – and he definitely was – but he didn’t hesitate when it came to lying for us. He was keen to protect our secret, keener than me at times, which defied reason. At first I thought it was because Landon was embarrassed and didn’t want anyone to know he dated a real witch. Loyalty and genuine emotion dissuaded me from that theory at some point.
Landon loved me. No matter how impr
obable I found the situation, he loved with his whole heart, and I had no doubt we would somehow survive everything thrown at us. Landon was not my father. He would not run when the going got tough, and he would stay by my side forever. Doubting that did nothing but drive him insane. It didn’t make me feel better. Waiting for something to happen, for him to leave, was an exercise in futility.
Landon wasn’t going anywhere. I wasn’t going anywhere. Our future wasn’t exactly fixed, but we were committed to facing it together. Could I ask for more? Not really. So how did I manage to completely lose my mind when he was out of town? How did I convince myself that being apart for a few weeks could somehow change everything?
I shifted my eyes to the window when a shadow moved on the other side of the blinds. I wasn’t particularly worried – a lilac bush resided on that side of the house, and while it was no longer in bloom, its branches swayed with the wind. As if on cue, a bolt of lightning flashed and illuminated the room, causing me to jerk to a sitting position.
Landon didn’t so much as shift, even when the thunder roared loud enough to rattle the windows. I stared at the window, convinced I imagined the shape outside, and waited for another flash of lighting. When it came, I let loose with a relieved sigh. This time it was clearly nothing more than the bush.
I tried to get comfortable again, pressing my eyes shut and listening to the storm. I wanted it to lull me. I generally love a good storm, and this could very well be the last storm I got to enjoy until the spring. My head refused to let go of that first flash, though, and before I realized what I was doing I was on my feet.
I was quiet when I twisted the door handle, silently escaping the bedroom and leaving Landon to sleep. He didn’t need to be a part of my paranoia. The living room was dark, although the small light over the kitchen sink provided minor illumination. Clove and Thistle had straightened up before retiring. I knew Clove and Sam were sleeping on an air mattress in her old bedroom. Thistle and I spent months arguing about the space – I wanted to turn it into an office and she wanted to turn it into a crafts room – but it remained empty because we couldn’t agree. It didn’t matter now. Thistle would move in with Marcus once construction on his new stable and barn complex was finished – he was converting an old barn into a beautiful home right near the town square – and then I would have the guesthouse to myself. I’d considered abandoning it and moving closer to Landon, the idea of being away from him three nights a week becoming more and more depressing, but now wasn’t the time to talk about something that big. We needed to put this behind us first.
[A Wicked Witches of the Midwest 10.0] Murder Most Witchy Page 21