by Angie Fox
And I immediately regretted saving him from the rain.
“You can’t tell a police officer about your plans for breaking and entering and then expect him to ignore it.” He sat heavily on my porch swing, and I listened to the wood crackle under his weight. “Verity,” he said softly, seeing my reaction, “my brother is in pain, you’re clueless, and I’m trying to fix it.”
“By telling me that I’m dumb. Twice.” He truly was terrible at this.
But Beau being Beau, he plowed forward anyway. “Ellis has never had anything really good his entire life,” Beau said, brushing the rain out of his hair. “He wasn’t the first son. That was Harrison. Ellis was never the favorite son. That was me.”
“The spoiled rotten one,” I corrected.
“Yeah,” he said, with a sheepish grin. “Ellis is the guy who pulls the weight. He takes on the hard work, the thankless work. I can admit that now. Harrison always did what Dad said, so both of them had a super easy time checking out and disappearing. I had no problem beating out Ellis for Mom’s favorite so long as I did everything ‘right.’ All I had to do was join the firm and rack up more stuff, more people admiring me. That was simple. I am, after all, delightful company.”
“You can be quite charming,” I admitted. Shallow, but charming.
“Right,” Beau said as if I finally understood. “Ellis was the odd duck, trying to make everything right for the rest of us, only it never quite worked out. In this day and age, he still watches out for other people. Like, all the time. It’s easy to take him for granted, but when I think about it, I don’t know what we’d do without him.”
I turned at a scratching on the back window and found Lucy feverishly trying to dig her way out to us. “What are you getting at, Beau?”
He shook his head. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that Ellis isn’t one to ask a lot for himself. He’s too busy protecting, providing. I don’t think he even realized he needed you to stay safe—for his sake—until you almost got yourself killed in that haunted asylum.”
“That’s—” I wanted to argue, but he had a point.
Beau stood. “I don’t think Ellis is trying to change you so much as he’s scared to death of losing you. He’s trying to protect himself for once.”
“I don’t know what to do with that.” I honestly didn’t. I mean, I couldn’t close the door on my new life, but I didn’t want to torture Ellis.
“He’s scared to death he’s going to lose you either way,” Beau said.
“I—” I wasn’t sure what to say.
“I don’t want Ellis to go through the hell I did,” Beau said. “I deserved it. He doesn’t. I was an ass. He’s just a guy in a tough spot, trying to do the best he can.”
“So what do I do?” I asked.
“Give him a break.” Beau shrugged. “Show him you’re willing to work things out.”
“I’m not sure how.” Obviously, my approach wasn’t cutting it. I’d been expecting him to do all the work. Or at least most of the compromising.
“Figure it out,” he said. “He’s my big dumb brother, but he’s worth it.”
“He is.” That was about the only thing I knew for sure. “Thanks,” I added. “I think I am glad you followed me home.”
He smiled at that. “Awkward, I know. I promise I won’t make it a habit. I really have moved on.”
Lucy began squeaking like a drunk Muppet as she tried to dig a hole through the glass.
Beau transferred his grin to her. “I see Lucy’s still as stubborn as ever.”
“You want to say hi?” I asked. A skunk meet-and-greet and perhaps a towel were the least I could offer. Beau had given me a lot to think about.
He and Lucy had been close once. He’d helped feed her bottles as a baby, back when our relationship was new and he’d do anything for me or my skunk. He’d invented the special vegetable nut mash she’d inhaled as an adolescent. Skunks didn’t understand awkwardness or breakups, so when I opened the back door, she rushed straight past me and into his arms.
“Hey, girl!” he said, crouching to pet her, failing to get in a good scratch as she went bonkers greeting him.
A large thunderclap echoed over the yard, and she dashed inside.
“She’s been terrified ever since that tree went down in the yard,” he said, following her in.
I couldn’t believe he remembered that.
I tossed him a towel from the laundry room while he and Lucy settled in for skunk snuggles on the kitchen floor. Beau had a way of scratching her ears that made her thump her tail on the floor like a beaver. “She doesn’t do that for anyone else,” I told him.
“Good,” he said, then lost his grin. “I can show you how I do it if you want.”
“No.” I waved him off. “It can be your thing.”
Lucy leaned into him so hard she almost toppled over. Beau caught her with his arm. “That’s always been my problem. I have to tell the best joke, give the best belly scratch. Gotta have everyone’s undivided attention.”
He sure had Lucy’s.
“Well, you grew up in such a cold family,” I said, leaning against the counter. I could see why he needed people to love him. He knew how to make Lucy love him. And he’d had my love at one point.
“I think that’s why I messed up,” he said, keeping his attention on the adoring skunk. “I needed everyone to want me and love me and—” He glanced up sheepishly. “I didn’t care if it was real.”
He wasn’t the only one in the world who did that. “We all have our ways of coping.”
“I want you to know I’m done playing that game,” he said, turning his attention back to the skunk. “I’m going to be better than that. Now that I know what’s happening, I can control it. I can decide.”
Okay. “Good for you.”
“I owe you one,” he said as Lucy tried to climb him for kisses. “If I hadn’t lost you, I don’t think I would have ever looked at myself and realized I could change.”
“Thank you,” I said, surprised and—I had to admit it—touched. “I’m proud of who you’re becoming.”
He grinned, letting my skunk lick his cheek while I grabbed her bowl and washed it out from dinner.
“Oh,” Beau said, springing to his feet with Lucy in his arms. “Can I make her my special skunky bananas foster?”
It was a lot of work. “I’m not even sure if the pan you used to use is…”
“Here,” he said, triumphantly pulling it out from the bottom drawer I never opened.
Lucy about lost her mind.
He set her down and let her run circles around him.
“It is the choice of discerning skunks everywhere,” he said, brandishing his pan like a top chef.
“She hasn’t had that since you made it for her last.” Back before we were engaged, before he’d started taking me for granted.
“It’s easy,” he said, going for one of the bananas I kept on the kitchen island. “Do you have butter?”
I gathered what he needed from my fridge and cabinets—cinnamon, dry bread crumbs, cream, a bit of vanilla extract—and hoped Lucy wouldn’t have a stroke in the meantime. Beau’s recipe was custom-made for a skunk’s diet, but I’d also tried it and found it delicious.
I refilled Lucy’s water and tried to keep her from stepping in it as she danced around, watching Beau cook.
“I’m serious about what I said earlier.” He glanced up from browning the butter. “My hopeless brother is suffering as we speak.”
“He’s got to be up to his ears at work.”
“His shift ended ten minutes ago,” Beau remarked, peeling bananas.
“You think he’s going to call?” I dredged my phone out of my bag.
He hadn’t called.
Beau chopped the bananas—thwack, thwack, thwack!—a little harder than he needed to. “One of you needs to figure this out.” He flipped a piece of banana to Lucy. “You realize how much my brother loves you,” he said it as a statement rather than a question.
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“I guess. We’ve just been having trouble lately,” I said, fiddling with my phone.
Beau pursed his lips and chopped harder. “He may be bad at expressing his feelings, but he’s got plenty, I guarantee it. And he needs you.”
“If I call him, he’ll ask where I was tonight.” Although, I hadn’t done anything illegal. “Do you truly think this is a good idea?”
“If I were you, I’d just show up. Of course, I’m the one who is terrible at relationships,” Beau reminded me. “Worse than either one of you.”
“If I pop by, we have to talk,” I said. Or not. It could be that we’d done too much talking lately. Maybe I should simply kiss him and go from there. We could start our evening with a reminder of why we were together in the first place.
“Just don’t overthink it,” Beau said, sprinkling cinnamon into the pan. The kitchen was starting to smell amazing.
“I should go,” I said, realizing I’d have to kick Beau out of my kitchen and ruin Lucy’s fun. Poor girl. This was going to be quite a tease.
“Go,” Beau said, waving me off. “I’ll feed Lucy and give her some attention. I missed this pretty girl,” he added, reaching down for an ear scratch.
“I don’t know,” I hedged. He was getting awfully chummy. But she had been starved for love all day.
“I’ll be gone in an hour,” he promised, “easily by the time you make it home. Although I hope you have mercy on my brother and stay longer.”
“I—”
“I suggest you make him forget why either one of you was mad in the first place.”
He had a point. Ellis and I had been through our differences, but we’d always come back out the other side, stronger for it. If anyone could figure this out, we could.
“You’ve got this,” Beau said, with a wave of the spoon.
“I do,” I said, grabbing my bag. I hoped.
At least I’d give it my best.
Chapter Seventeen
I plunked Frankie’s urn on the counter and hurried out the back door into the rain.
Don’t overthink it.
Ellis would be glad if I showed up at his door. Or at least he’d have to talk to me.
Part of me hoped that I would discover a magic key, an easy solution to our problem that would make both Ellis and me happy. We could go back to the way things were—the easy, fun part. I liked that part. I missed that part. Ellis going with me on my jaunts to haunted places. Both of us being as amused as we were amazed by what I discovered on the other side.
And who was I to complain about a few stolen kisses along the way?
Maybe we could have that back and then some. Maybe we just had to find a new way that worked for both of us.
I tossed my bag into the passenger seat of the car and slid into the driver’s seat, wiping wet strands of hair out of my eyes.
I’d make things right tonight.
Or I’d make things worse.
Either way, we had to face our problems if we were ever going to push through this mess and come out the other side.
I turned the key and took comfort in the familiar catch of the land yacht’s eight-cylinder engine. Sturdy and dependable, the way I liked it.
With a glance back at the warm light in the windows of my ancestral home, I steered out into the dark night.
The swish of my wiper blades comforted me with their steady rhythm.
You can do it. You can do it. They seemed to say.
Or maybe I just really wanted it to be true.
I steered past the budding peach orchard. Beau had made it clear that Ellis was suffering. Well, I was too. I mean, here we were, two people who loved each other, stuck butting heads. Neither of us willing to give an inch because that would mean changing who we were.
Ellis couldn’t stop being the protective sort, and what he’d seen on our last adventure scared him bad.
I couldn’t pretend that I wasn’t captivated by the whole new world I’d discovered on the other side.
And as I reached the end of the drive, I fought the sudden urge to turn around and go home. I could hug my skunk, maybe visit the shed and see what Frankie was doing. I knew what to expect from both of them.
Ellis, on the other hand? I hadn’t always been very good at figuring out what went on in his head.
I forced myself to make the turn onto the main road.
My two housemates would always be with me, no matter what. Well, at least until I freed Frankie. Even after that, I didn’t think I’d be rid of my ghost altogether.
But Ellis? I was scared to death of losing him.
I turned onto the nearly deserted highway, the beams of my brights cutting through the pitch dark. Ellis was fun, he was brave, and he had a talent for saying what was on his mind, whether or not it sounded right.
That one drove his mother crazy. And Ellis wasn’t so fond of it himself.
But I loved it.
I liked that Ellis always gave the unvarnished truth, or at least his version of it.
Well, I liked it most of the time, anyway. When it didn’t hurt so much.
Ellis didn’t try to be anything other than who he was—which was a problem at the moment. I chewed my lip, wishing my grandmother were along to give some advice.
She’d tell me to find a way to respect him and myself.
It was easier said than done, but she’d never pretended life—or love—was easy.
Ellis lived in one of the older neighborhoods west of downtown. Thick, mature trees lined the road. The neat, bungalow-style houses along Magnolia Street had stood since the early 1900s. I loved the neighborhood’s wide variety of styles and personal touches as well as the inviting porches. No two were alike.
Ellis lived in a cozy brick story-and-a-half built in the 1940s. The porch light shone like a beacon in the night. I parked in the driveway behind his police cruiser, heartened to see lights on in the front room.
He was home, and he’d be glad to see me.
I reached into my bag and pulled out my lipstick and the hairbrush I always carried. I sat in the dark and freshened up. I liked to look pretty for my boyfriend.
I wasn’t hesitant at all to actually knock on that door and face the music.
Maybe a little.
Ellis knew I’d been ghost hunting tonight. I didn’t have to hide it, I reminded myself, as I rubbed my lips together and dug in my bag for a mint. One couldn’t underestimate the importance of fresh breath, and a bit of mascara never hurt, I decided as my fingers brushed the tube.
I applied the mascara by the light of the visor’s vanity mirror.
The trouble with Ellis was he never liked to ask for anything for himself. Instead, he gave too much.
And now, when he finally got around to asking, he wanted the impossible.
I found a powder compact and considered dabbing a bit on my nose.
No. I had to admit at this point that I wasn’t freshening up; I was hiding in my car. Which was silly. I had no reason to remain glued to my seat or be nervous at all as his front door opened and he stepped out onto his porch. He watched me, curiously, as I added a layer of lip gloss.
I’d look like a runway model by the time I got done stalling.
At least the rain had stopped.
“Hi,” I called, forcing myself out of my car. I slung my bag over my shoulder and fluffed my sodden hair, feeling terribly exposed, which was ten kinds of ridiculous because this was my guy and he loved me, and I had nothing to be worried about.
Still, I felt raw walking up the pathway to his house. He stood on the porch, a broad-shouldered mountain, watching. He didn’t do it to make me uncomfortable. He was a soldier, a protector. It showed.
Beau had told me Ellis was scared, but at that moment, he didn’t appear to be afraid of anything.
“Verity, I—” he began as I embraced a sudden bolt of energy and bounded up his stairs.
“No talking,” I said, and then I kissed him.
And into that kiss, I poured all of my
love and my hope and my faith in him. In us. We could make this right. Our unexpected, crazy, adventuresome kind of love was enough.
He wrapped his arms around me and drew me closer.
He kissed me back, long and hard. It was exactly what I’d craved from him from the very start. For always, really. And after a long, lovely while, he smiled in the dark and said, “Damn. I needed that.”
“Me too.” If I could have frozen the moment, I would have.
He drew a lock of hair behind my ear and looked at me like I was the prettiest girl in the world. “About earlier,” he began.
“Nope,” I said, nipping him on the bottom lip. “No talking.” I wasn’t going to let either of us screw this up.
I kissed him again. And again. And only when I felt him surrender did I tilt back and whisper into his ear, “I missed you.”
“Am I allowed to say anything?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
“No.” I felt his shudder and an intake of breath as I ran a hand down his side and rested it on his belt.
“I do like a girl who knows what she wants,” he said, drawing me into the house.
His living room was a mess.
“Sorry,” he said, clearing the video game controllers off his black leather couch. When I’d met him, the inside of his place consisted of white walls and minimal black leather furniture. I’d helped him pick a warm gray for the walls and new curtains. He’d paired those with an explosion of video game equipment. “Killing Nazis makes me feel better,” he said, by way of explanation. “And so do you,” he added. “God, I missed you.”
I shoved him down on the couch and kissed him again.
“You know, eventually we need to talk about our problem,” he said when I moved to kissing his neck.
“Eventually.” He needed to put his persistence to better use. “We also need to focus on the good,” I reminded him, reaching under his T-shirt and caressing his rock-hard chest.
“Like the fact that you drive me crazy?” he asked, leaning up to kiss me. “That I love you enough to yell at you in front of church ladies?”
“You owe me big time for that,” I said against his lips.