The room where I was beaten and violated?
Even if it means catching my killer, can I face what I might see in there? Do I really want that memory etched into my brain? Isn’t already having a good idea what I went through bad enough?
Then again, what if he is out there right now, terrorizing other women? What if my reluctance to walk into this room means another person will lose their life?
I take a deep breath, my hand reaching out to push the door open.
“You don’t have to go in there,” Aiden tells me.
I glance over my shoulder, seeing both worry and fury in his eyes. “I do.” I sound more sure then I feel, but I force my feet forward. Within two steps, I am standing inside my bedroom.
It is still a mess. My sheets have been taken away and parts of my mattress cut out, yet there are still obvious bloodstains surrounding the edges of the parts taken away. There is black soot dusted over every surface, and I swear I smell death and fear in the air.
“I can give Flynn a number to call to get this place cleaned up. They’ll remove what needs to be ditched, clean up any leftover blood or … well, you know. He doesn’t have to see this.”
I nod, unable to speak any longer. I make sure to take in every detail of what was once my bedroom, not recalling a single moment from the night I died. I have no memory of being in this room other than when I came back as a ghost. Nothing in here is jogging any memories for me.
Frustrated and upset with myself, I stare directly at the mattress and will myself to remember. I think back to when I first saw the silhouette of the man who would soon after take my life. I remember the fear and adrenaline that pumped through my veins as I tried to get away. I recall the first time he touched me, the pain after that hit, and then I come up blank again.
“Nothing. I don’t remember anything!” I screech at Aiden, throwing my arms up in the air.
“It’s okay. It is probably best you don’t—”
“No! I need to remember because, otherwise, we have nothing to go on, and he will get away with it. He’ll keep killing innocent women, and there will be no justice for any of us!”
“Thea…” he sighs my name as his hand wraps around my upper arm, tugging me away from my room.
He walks me back down the stairs, and before I know it, we’re outside. I take deep breaths, apparently needing the cool, fresh air to help me calm down.
“I know this isn’t easy, but you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. It’s a brave thing to even come back here, let alone go into that room. You can’t remember what happened, and to be honest, I’m glad. Knowing what happened to you, I don’t want that to be a memory for you. We’ll catch the asshole another way. I promise.”
“But how? We have no leads, nothing to go on.”
“Something will come up. It’ll work out.” Aiden slides his hand from my upper arm where he was still holding onto it, working his way down my arm until he reaches my hand. His fingers wrap around mine, making me feel content and safe.
So much for me not getting attached to him.
“Thank you for not giving up,” I tell him honestly, looking up at him to see if he finds as much comfort in my touch as I find in his, but I can’t tell.
“I won’t ever give up on this, Thea.”
***
After a stop at the grocery store, where Aiden mutters good-naturedly that I’m going to make him broke, we buy several shopping bags full of food.
I cook him a meat and potato pie, making the crust from scratch tonight, grateful for the distraction. I am able to keep my hands busy and my eyes away from him since, as soon as we got home, he showered and started walking through the house wearing a T-shirt that hugs every muscle over his chest, causing my fingers to itch with the need to feel those muscles.
Can’t he put something more decent on? Is he trying to torture me?
I sit with him as he scarfs almost the entire pie while I answer his questions regarding my parents, what I remember of them before they died, what my life was like with my grandpa, and he even wants to hear stories from my school and college days.
After two hours, I feel talked out.
“You know, working my murder case means you know an awful lot about my life, more than probably anyone I know. However, I know almost nothing about yours.”
“You’ve met my grandma.” He shrugs at me, acting as though that is meant to be some sort of answer.
“Yes, so?”
“That is more than any woman I dated has done.”
“You’ve never introduced a girlfriend to your family?”
He shifts a little uncomfortably. “I’ve never been in a serious relationship. When I was younger, I didn’t care to, and now I don’t have the time or patience to get to know someone.”
“That sounds a little sad. I know you said you pretty much work nonstop, but you must still meet women, perhaps when you go to that bar or when you’re out shopping?”
“I do meet women, and I don’t need a deep and meaningful connection to sleep with someone, Thea. I’m never looking for more than one night.”
I ignore the flare of jealously that jolts into my guts at that announcement.
“That sounds incredibly lonely.”
“I have never felt lonely before. I enjoy my own company. Besides, I see what relationships do to people every day at work. If I had a dollar for every murder that involved a spouse, I’d be rich.”
“Not every relationship has to be doomed.”
“You’re single, why weren’t you in a relationship, then?”
“If you remember correctly, I was in a relationship for two years. I wasn’t in a rush to get back into one, but I would have eventually. I wasn’t going to give up on them. I wanted to have kids.” I feel the sorrow building up inside me, but before it can settle, Aiden interrupts my thoughts.
“Yes, I do recall your ex-boyfriend. You hoping I’ll reconsider my stance on relationships based on what a fantastic guy that asshole was to you?”
“Okay, Nate wasn’t a good guy. I made a bad decision there, but we did have some fun moments. I’d rather try and fail than never try at all.”
“I figure I’ll just save myself the hassle.”
“So, what, you’ll be single forever?”
He shrugs. “Like I said, I don’t feel the need to be in a relationship. I prefer to be alone. If I meet some amazing woman who is hot, doesn’t feel the need to talk all the time”—he gives me a pointed look, and my heart sinks a little, even though I know he means it to be a joke—“can cook, isn’t insecure about my job and the fact that I will always be leaving in the middle of things to go to a crime scene, and doesn’t whine and bore me to death, then I’ll reconsider my stance.”
I roll my eyes at him, ignoring my unease at never getting the chance to date and have a future. My life is over, and my last relationship will always have been with Nate.
I try to forget my own predicament, focusing instead on Aiden. Deep down, I’m a bit relieved he’s happy being single. This could never work if he was dating someone. For one, it would be incredibly difficult to keep it from them when I’m apparently attached to Aiden at the hip, and they would think he was crazy seeing me. Also, I have a strong feeling I wouldn’t like seeing Aiden with another woman. I’m not stupid; I know my growing feelings for Aiden are foolish, pointless, and one-sided. He is a good man and deserves happiness. I just don’t want to see him find happiness with someone while I’m still around.
“Why do you have such a bad view on relationships? I know you mentioned your work, but your grandma seemed to really love your grandpa.”
“They don’t make relationships like that anymore. They were from a different time.”
“What happened with your parents?” As I watch him pause, his face emotionless, I wonder if I hit a sensitive topic. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”
“My dad cheated on my mom a lot. One woman, he convinced himself he was in love wi
th. He left my brother, me, and Mom for her, and we never saw him again. I heard he died a few years later.” He shrugs, acting nonchalant. However, I wonder how much of what his father did weighs on his mind and has affected him throughout his life.
“He sounds like a shitty dad. You’re a good man, Aiden. You would never do something like that.”
“I know. My uncle stepped in and was the only true father figure Max and I had. He was a good man, and even though cancer took him from us, I know he is the reason Max and I never got into too much trouble. It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m never going to get married or have kids.”
“Me, neither.” I attempt to sound light, but there is pain in my voice.
“I’m sorry that was taken from you.”
I nod, a lump growing in my throat. I don’t want to cry anymore, though. I’ve done that enough today.
“Do you mind if I watch some TV for a little while?”
“Go for it.”
I flip through the channels until I find a cooking show, feeling a little calmer watching the chefs talk through their recipes. I even get a few ideas that I want to try out.
Aiden works at his desk for a short while, still going over surveillance footage on his laptop, but he soon joins me on the couch. I end up bouncing food suggestions off him, liking how open he is to trying anything. I file away some new dinner ideas in my mind. Then, when he falls asleep again on the couch, I ignore the urge to cuddle up against him and fall asleep, too. Instead, I place the throw rug over him and step away, peeking at the files piled high on his desk and discovering many are of cases that are several months to a couple of years old.
I skim over them, finding them unable to hold my interest. Instead, I’m drawn to his kitchen.
Tired yet not enough to sleep, I do what I do best and what makes me feel good. I create, beginning with a large chocolate mud cake Aiden can take to his mother’s tomorrow. When I finish that too quickly, I begin to make lemon meringue tarts.
I hope everyone loves dessert.
CHAPTER TEN
Aiden
Waking up, I find myself staring at a familiar TV and cabinet. This is the second morning I’m waking up here when there is a perfectly fine bed right upstairs. Yesterday, I woke up in a much more uncomfortable position; however, I knew I had fallen asleep with Thea. This time, I realize I’m flat on my back, taking up the entire couch. I feel comfortable enough to know I have been in this position for a while, if not all night. There is even a blanket resting over me.
So, where is Thea?
I listen for sounds of life. Usually, she is hanging around the kitchen, and I can hear the movements and sounds of her cooking. Today, there is nothing.
I do smell cooking, but not the usual smells I have gotten used to every morning of cooked bacon, eggs, and toast.
What has she been cooking?
I sit up, stretching out the slight stiffness in my back from sleeping on cushions while remaining seated. I glance down at my usual predicament. I haven’t had to worry about hiding my morning erection for years. I have lived alone since I could afford to, and on the few occasions I had a woman stay over, I haven’t cared much about how I wake up.
With Thea, it is different. For one, we are not sleeping together. Two, it feels disrespectful to her to be walking around hard when she is a guest in my house—well, sort of a guest. And three, she isn’t really alive. Seeing her doesn’t ease my problem, and seriously, how can I be turned on by a ghost?
I know she looks real to me, but she isn’t.
When did she go from being an annoyance to someone I want to feel comfortable here, someone whose company I am beginning to enjoy? When was the last time I felt lonely?
If someone had told me a couple of weeks ago I would have a woman attached to my hip, and I wouldn’t be sick to death of her, I would have laughed in their face. I have never been able to stand being with a woman for longer than a few days, and that was when I was young and able to have marathon sex like it was a sport.
Things aren’t like that with Thea, though. I am grudgingly attracted to her, no matter how weird that makes me, but we have not done anything sexual with each other. I might have noticed her staring a few times, and I have definitely done my fair share of ogling her, although I usually don’t have much control over that. I hope she hasn’t noticed when I get lost in my thoughts of the way her clothes hug her curves and what she might look like without the obstructing garments. This is different, though, because nothing has or will happen between us. She is, at best, a friend. A friend who is hot and can cook me the best damn food I have ever eaten.
My stomach grumbles as I think of food. Before I head to fill my stomach, I quickly make use of the downstairs bathroom. When I enter the kitchen, I see an omelet along with a side plate, which has a bacon sandwich made up. How did I get so lucky?
Wait, I’m not lucky. I’m seeing a dead woman, and Thea went through hell to get here. Definitely not lucky, but damn this food I’m getting on a regular basis is amazing.
I sit down, aware that I still haven’t seen Thea yet.
“Thea?” I call out before digging into the still warm omelet. She must have just been here.
I keep eating, assuming she is getting changed upstairs.
I liked buying her clothes yesterday. I have never bought a woman clothing before. I mean, why would I when I haven’t ever been in a proper relationship? Regardless, there was something incredibly satisfying when I bought the clothing, knowing I was giving Thea something. I was supporting her. Given my piss poor effort with solving this case, I jumped at the chance to be able to do something for her, even if it was only pulling out my credit card and buying some clothing.
I finish my plate, eating the bacon sandwich in three mouthfuls. I glance at the staircase again, realizing Thea still hasn’t come downstairs.
What if something is wrong?
The hairs at the back of my neck prickle, my stomach clenches uncomfortably, and the food I’ve just consumed turns sour in my belly.
What if she’s gone?
I don’t know why that scares the shit out of me so much. It shouldn’t. I know it’s going to happen eventually; if not now, then probably soon. It’s not normal for her to be here. Even if I can’t give her closure with the case, she’ll probably have to leave soon.
Why not now? Why should I care?
I tell myself I will miss my personal chef, but I fear it is worse than that.
I place the dirty plates in the sink then walk over to my staircase, making my way upwards.
“Thea? You up here?”
I cringe when I hear no answer.
I open my bedroom door in time to crash straight into Thea.
She gasps, and I reach out, grabbing ahold of her. She looks up at me excitedly, her smile almost blinding.
“I’m sweating!” she blurts out, her grip tightening over my arms.
“What?” I’m confused by her admission and why it would be considered something she would be excited to share.
“I’m sweating, Aiden! Sweating!”
“I’m still not following you.”
“I was making you breakfast, and I stood over the pan and the steam was really hot, and then I realized there was sweat over my forehead!”
“And that is a reason to be excited?”
“I haven’t noticed any sweating since I died! It has to be a good sign that I’m able to sweat, right?”
“Good in what way? You’re still invisible, Thea, still a ghost.” I try to say my words gently, avoiding telling her she is dead. She doesn’t need the reminder.
“But what if I’m coming back? What if things are changing? I felt hungry today, Aiden. Hungry! And that bullet felt funny when it went through me, and my clothes were damaged. What if I’m becoming more real? What if … I don’t know, just what if?” She smiles at me again, her hand giving me one last squeeze before she lets go of me.
I don’t want to burst her bubble, telling her what she
is saying can’t be possible, but maybe it does mean something. Perhaps she won’t be leaving after all. She might get to stay here with me, forever.
While that thought does stop my heart from beating for a few painful moments, it doesn’t scare me as much as I would have expected. Why not?
I shake my head, watching her race downstairs with a bounce in her step. I then walk towards my bathroom, needing a hot shower before I can face the day.
I have dinner with my mother tonight. What the hell was I thinking when I agreed to that?
***
I pull onto Flynn’s street with Thea finally beginning to settle next to me. She has been a bundle of energy since this morning and hasn’t stopped moving or chatting since I came back downstairs fully dressed.
If she wasn’t going on and on about feeling more real, she was asking me a hundred questions about my family. Most, I avoid answering; however, that doesn’t appear to discourage her from asking me more.
I am exhausted simply being around her, but when she suddenly turns quiet, I see how nervous she has become. I find that just as unsettling as her boundless energy from earlier.
“What’s wrong? I thought you wanted to see your brother.”
“I do want to see him. I’m just so worried about him. It is going to break my heart to see him still in pain.”
“He’s still going to be grieving. That won’t go away anytime soon.”
“I hope he’s called some of his friends. They all live in New York where he was going to school, but I know some of them would come if they knew what has happened. He shouldn’t be dealing with this alone.”
I nod, not really sure what she wants me to accomplish here.
“Maybe you can tell him I’m still here. It might make him feel better. It might help him to be able to speak to me.”
“You think having the only detective working his sister’s murder telling him he can see his dead sister is going to help him? Do you think that’ll inspire his confidence in me? Because I’m already going to have to tell him I have barely anything to go on.”
“But I can tell you things to say to him, stuff only I know. He’ll have to believe you.”
Haunted Love Page 14