“Bridgette?” she prompted.
The woman looked over at her, her eyes void of their normal sparkle.
“Grab your smokes and let’s go outside.”
“Oh, Bridgette, I don’t smoke,” she lied.
“Yeah, you do. Don’t lie to me. Grab your purse and meet me on the deck.”
Bridgette picked up the candle and carried it with her outside, settling herself into the porch swing, patiently waiting for Echo to follow her. Knowing it was pointless to make her wait, Echo stood, found her purse in the living room, and joined her aunt on the deck.
She pulled out her pack of Camels and removed one for her aunt and one for herself before searching for the lighter. Bridgette used the candle and offered it to Echo in lieu of the lighter, its flame sparking in a fight to stay lit against the slight breeze that had picked up. Like always, the first drag was the best.
“You don’t pay much attention, do you?”
Echo scrunched her brow in confusion. It seemed an odd way to start a conversation.
“Uh, what do you mean?”
Bridgette took a long drag on her cig and slowly released the smoke into the air and watched it spread out before her.
“How long have you been friends with Paige? Thirty years?” She took another drag while she waited for Echo’s answer.
“Yeah something like that. You know that though, so why are you asking?” Bridgette had reverted to the early years, back when she was trying to show Echo that if she would open her eyes, she would see the answers to all of her life problems. It left a sour taste—Echo hated being treated like a child.
“What all do you know about her?”
“Everything.” Echo was in no mood to play games.
“Hmm. Then why did you call me? If you know everything about her, then you would know that she’d been infected with a simple glamour and all she needed was some sleep to recover.”
Unbelievable. Years without talking and she was immediately back onto the topic of witchcraft.
“Look, Bridgette, I’m really not here to get into the whole ‘Wicca’ thing—”
“You should be!” The stern glare on Bridgette’s face and her raised voice gave Echo a start. Even when she was upset, her kind spirit had always prevailed. Echo couldn’t remember ever seeing Bridgette on the verge of pure concentrated anger. “If you had any sense about you, you’d be aware of your awakening by now and at least somewhat aware that your best friend lives a lie!”
“Now just wait a damn minute, Bridgette! Paige is not a liar!”
Bridgette rolled her eyes, took another drag, and let out a laugh that crackled through the silence in the air, sending chills up along Echo’s flesh.
This was ridiculous. Echo leaned back in the porch swing and rocked her feet so that the swing began to sway as she took a long drag. Maybe it would be best to rush back to Seattle, change her number, sell the damn house, and completely cut ties with her past—Bridgette and Paige included.
“I can’t play these games, Bridgette,” she whispered. “I just want to know that Paige will wake up in the morning and be fine.”
“She’s already fine, Echo. She’s just sleeping. It’s four in the morning and she has a belly full of tequila. What do you want from her?”
“Fuck, I don’t know! Some answers that make sense would be great!” She’d snapped. She refused to go rounds with Bridgette and even though she’d been happy to see her, they all too easily fell back into previous behaviors.
They sat in silence for a long time and when Echo had finished smoking, she instinctively pulled the mints from her purse and popped one in her mouth.
“Has the pain started?”
Oh. My. Gawd. The woman could never just get to the point.
“What pain?”
Bridgette turned her eyes to Echo and even in the pale light of the early morning hours she could see a heaviness flicker in her. She really had aged, more than she should have.
“From your mark. Figured it should have started by now, all things considered.”
As if on cue the damn pain in the back of her skull sent a sharp burst through her head and spread out to pierce her temples.
“I–I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fuck she was a bad liar, especially since she couldn’t hide the quiver in her voice as she tried to keep herself from vomiting.
“I see.” Bridgette continued to stare at her. “I can help you. If you let me.”
“I’m fine,” she lied again.
“Fine. Have it your way, but you don’t have to suffer. I really can help you.”
“It’s just a headache, Bridgette.” She sighed. “I’ll take a migraine pill or something when I get back to the house.”
Bridgette suddenly stood and without a word, went back into the house. Echo wondered if it was too much to ask for normal, whatever the fuck normal was anyway. A few moments later her aunt came back and produced a small cloth bag with a gold rope cinching it shut.
“It’s a homeopathic aid. Nothing magical. I’d hate for you to think I was trying to alter your brain or something. My herbalist turned me onto it when I was recovering from my surgery. It helps with all kinds of pains. Take it. If the migraine meds don’t help just stir a teaspoon into something hot, like tea.”
Echo knew she’d throw in a dig somewhere about her surgery and the guilt churned her stomach. With great resignation she took the bag and tucked it into her purse.
“Your herbalist, huh? As in Marge, the woman who grows pot for you?”
Bridgette laughed. Marge had been her aunt’s supplier for as long as Echo could remember, even before medical cards had become the latest craze.
“Who else?” Finally, a genuine smile. “It’s purely medicinal though.”
“Of course.” Echo stood and wrapped her arms around her aunt. “Thank you.”
“All right, little one, let’s go wake up Paigey-poo and get her home. I’m sure Mark is worried by now.”
Ha! Paigey-poo! She’d forgotten Bridgette’s odd nicknames for her. Hand in hand, the women stepped in from the chilled night air and made their way back to the guest room. Paige was still sound asleep, curled up in the fetal position with her back facing them. It was then that Echo saw it.
It sat on the back of Paige’s neck, just at the base of her skull centered in her hair line. It was a symbol that resembled a doodled sunburst, its long tendrils swirling out from the center. The only difference between Paige’s and her own was that the one on her best friend was black.
Chapter Nine
It had been a few days since the club incident and as much as Echo had wanted to ask Paige about her mark, she chose to leave it be. If it had been something her friend had wanted her to know about, she would have told her by now. Maybe someday, down the road when she felt sane again she’d bring it up. In the meantime, she’d act like it didn’t exist.
In an effort to find the normal she’d been looking for and to gain some clarity on life, Echo had chosen to go through the house and face her Charlie demon head on. It had been hard at first, but the more her memories of their life flooded her, the happier she felt. He had brought her pure joy and the longer she mourned him, the longer their relationship seemed to be a dream. It was time to accept reality and own that though he’d been a light for her the light had been extinguished. Maybe someday she would find another, but before that could happen she needed to face her loss head on.
To ensure minimal interruptions, Echo finally answered the countless texts and e-mails from Jules and the Wicked Witch client, who had come crawling back, ensuring them that she was on a much-needed sabbatical but would return soon. In an effort to subdue the hysteria that had broken out in her Seattle office, she gave Jules full control in her absence. She was more than capable and perhaps being forced into the position, she’d break out of her shell and finally realize her place in the design world. Jules would probably outperform Echo on many levels and unlike before, when she’d viewed the woman as
a threat, Echo now welcomed Jules’s expertise. Hell, perhaps she’d just sign over the business to her and walk away.
She’d fallen in love with the house, and though there had already been some speed bumps on her road to happiness, Echo felt a sudden and new sense of security that she could overcome whatever obstacles presented themselves.
It was time to regain control, and the only way she could do that was to open herself up to the home that had been waiting for her.
When Charlie had set up the house, he’d done so with the belief that they would move in and live there, so it had everything. His and hers closets full of clothes for them both, appropriate for all seasons along with their personal preferences in toiletries and a seemingly never-ending supply of Echo’s go-to brands for makeup and girly items. He’d known her better than she knew herself and she’d found things that she would have never even thought of including until the moment came when she’d want to use it.
There were pictures of their life together scattered through the various rooms of the house and as she found her way around the large 4,000-square-foot home she often smiled at his thoughtfulness. Each room had been decorated in a way that would make her feel welcome and set up in a way that would appease her OCD behaviors about furniture layout. Even though she now earned a six-figure payout for each room she put her personal touch on, she had to admit that she couldn’t have worked the home any better than Charlie had.
Her favorite room of course was the walk-in closet. It was bigger than her bedroom in the condo and for every outfit, there were matching shoes. He’d always teased her about her shoe obsession, but never faulted her expensive tastes and often surprised her with a pair she’d openly lusted after. There were at least fifty pairs all lined up, and even though they were from the fashion world of five years ago, her crave for all things black and white bled over into her wardrobe and one could never go wrong with black Jimmy Choos or Manolo Blanniks, no matter how old they were.
Within the closet she found a lingerie section and she felt her face blush as she flipped through some of the pieces. Some were crotchless, some had large open slits where fabric was supposed to be if she’d wanted to cover her nipples. There was leather, lace, satin, silk, and even some cotton pieces. Various lengths and levels of seductiveness, each one exactly what she would have picked to wear for him. Amongst the pieces she found a long sheer black spaghetti-strap nightgown. The feel of it in her hands and the utter beauty of it made her want to know what it would feel like on, so she slipped out of her lazy wear of black yoga pants and white cami and slid the gown down over her head. A majority of the fabric was see through with two skinny strips of solid silk that ran down the centers of her breasts, barely covering her nipples. Near her navel the strips met and merged into a thicker strip that ran the rest of the way down the gown, barely hiding her mound from prying eyes.
It was quite possibly the sexiest piece in the entire collection and the silky material was cool and slick against her skin, causing her nipples to perk in response. She felt a twinge of sadness knowing that Charlie had picked the pieces eager for her to model each one for him and that he never had the pleasure.
Echo stayed in the gown as she continued to work her way through the house, but her heart couldn’t take much more for the day and she made her way to the kitchen.
As she poured herself a glass of red wine and flipped on the surround sound to a satellite station that played nothing but sappy love songs, she wondered how unhealthy it was to wallow and if drinking alone every night made her an alcoholic.
Oh well. She’d already crossed the line so there was no point in going back. Besides, who would she drink with? Paige? With as poorly as that had gone last time, she figured it was probably safer if she just drank herself into a stupor alone.
As “I’m Lost Without You” blared through the speakers, and the buzz from the red wine pulsed through her blood, she belted out along with Carly Knicks and allowed self-pity tears to trickle down her cheeks.
As the song came to an end and she refilled her wine glass, the doorbell echoed through the house. Startled by the sudden intrusion, she quickly hit mute on the remote and walked to the door. Paige had said she’d stop by for a visit sometime during the week, so when she opened the door and saw Henry, her heart stopped.
He stood somber-like on the other side of the wrought-iron gate, a bottle of wine in one hand and what looked like a DVD in the other. A hopeful smile turned at his lips when he saw her, and though she wanted to return his affectionate expression, anger flooded her.
“Go away.” She turned to slam the door shut, but his puppy-dog eyes stopped her.
“Echo, please, can I talk to you?” He looked so pathetic standing there. His shoulders were a little slumped and his eyes were heavy as he stared at her.
“Why?” She could feel the venom build up as she fought the urge to scream at him. Not only had he scared the shit out of her, he’d also hurt her feelings. Which was stupid, by the way. He was just some asshole who wanted to buy her house, and though he was damn hot, there was no other connection between them.
“I want to apologize for the other night. I don’t know what got into me. I’m not usually such an ass.” The sincerity in his voice caught her, but she still hesitated. Why did he care if his behavior had upset her?
“Look, Henry,” she started, “I’ll make this easy for you—I’ve taken the house off the market. I need to spend some time weighing my options before I make that big of a decision. And as for your behavior, you should really apologize to Paige since it was her that you compromised not me.”
“I don’t care about the house.” His baby-blue eyes stared into her and Echo felt her heart flutter. “I think I hurt your feelings and I’m sorry.”
She didn’t know what to say, but the least she could do was accept his apology since he’d made the effort.
“Fine. Now, please leave.”
“Wait, I brought peace offerings.” He held out the wine and movie and smiled, which made her heart flutter even more. It had to be the wine clouding her judgment, but seeing Henry stand there, holding out his “peace offerings” and pleading with his eyes for her to let him in, she faltered.
She gulped down the rest of the wine in the glass that she gripped tightly in her hand.
“How do you know you hurt my feelings? And even if you did, why the fuck would you care?”
Henry lowered his offering and tucked the movie under his arm so that he had a free hand.
“Look.” He ran his fingers up through his thick black hair and Echo couldn’t help but watch every movement he made. Henry was definitely attractive. His face was shadowed with a slight scruff of a beard, his pale skin stood out against the dark shade of his hair, and his baby-blue eyes were piercing. Not to mention his beautifully ripped body. Fuck.
“Like I said, I’m not usually an ass. Believe it or not, Echo, I’m really a nice guy. I feel bad about the other night. I guess I just got caught up in the moment. I don’t know. I blame your leather pants.”
He laughed and it broke her resolve.
“My leather pants?”
“Did you see yourself? Damn, the way they…” His face flushed and Echo thought it was the sweetest thing she’d seen in a long time. It wasn’t every day that a man fumbled over describing how she looked in anything.
“Can I please come in?”
It only took her a second to decide. She was lonely, and it wouldn’t hurt to actually spend time with someone—even if that someone made her body ache in ways it hadn’t in years. Since Charlie. She pushed the guilt aside and stepped forward to release the lock on the gate. When it swung open, she could feel her breath catch. The breeze carried the scent of his cologne to her nostrils and she fought the urge to grab him and deeply inhale. Holy hell, he smelled amazing.
Once they were inside the house and she’d closed the door behind her, Echo turned to lead him to the kitchen and practically ran smack into him.
A dar
k lust burned in his eyes and it ignited her own desire as he reached up and ran his fingers gently down the side of her cheek.
“I assume you were not expecting company?”
Random.
“Um, no.” Her words were a whisper and she stumbled over them.
His fingers trailed down along her neck, pausing briefly before he hooked his finger into the strap of her nightgown.
“Do you always wear such provocative attire?”
“Shit!” It was Echo’s turn to flush. Upon seeing Henry, she’d completely forgotten the nightgown. “I’ll be right back.”
She rushed up the stairs into her bedroom. Humiliation filled her gut and she closed herself into the larger-than-life closet. How was it that every time Henry saw her, she was scantily clad? He must think she was desperate for attention. She quickly looked around for the yoga pants and cami from earlier and stripped off the gown, remembering to wear a bra this time. From the vanity she grabbed a hair tie and pulled her hair up into a sloppily folded ponytail. The less attractive she looked the easier this night would be.
Taking a deep breath, she re-emerged to find Henry down in the kitchen opening the wine bottle. He’d recorked the one she’d been enjoying earlier and set it aside, the two fresh glasses he’d pulled down from the glass rack now filled with one of his offerings.
“Better?” He looked up at her and smiled as she sat down on her favorite bar stool, his eyes following every curve of her body.
“Um, yeah,” she stuttered, “sorry about that. I was having a pity party I guess.”
“Oh?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess.”
He stepped up to her and handed her the glass. The aroma of the wine blended with his scent was intoxicating and Echo could feel her head start to spin as he took her free hand in his.
“What could you possibly be feeling down about?”
Mesmerized, she followed him as he led her into the living room and they sat down, closer than she’d expected, on the overstuffed couch.
“Well?”
Echo in the Night [Echo's Song] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 7