Falling Into Forever Page 11

  He nodded, moving to sign the check. I reached for my purse. “You get the next one,” he said, dismissing my gesture. “And I don’t blame you at all, Addie. The house is a little spooky. But we’ll fix that. We’ll make it the most amazing house in Singletree, okay?”

  I lifted a shoulder. The house, this project—it was more of a means to an end than anything else. If it ended up looking amazing, it would be good for resale value, but didn’t make a difference to me otherwise. “Sure.”

  “I’ve got the roofers coming out tomorrow like we talked about.”

  “Okay.”

  “So you won’t be there alone when I go into the shop.”

  I was almost embarrassed at the relief I felt at this knowledge.

  “And this weekend, we’ll start on the floors downstairs, okay? Together.”

  I nodded, realizing Michael could see every single emotion I felt—I’d never had a poker face. And he was trying to reassure me.

  “Thanks,” I said, but it was almost a whisper, and I wasn’t sure he heard me.

  The night was cool and breezy as we walked back through the square and up the hill to Maple Lane. It was a moonless night, and it was peaceful as we walked side by side, the town settling into slumber around us, pulling the darkness up like a warm quilt. But the dark seemed to gather and convene at the top of the hill, where overgrown oaks and wrought iron formed the foreboding entrance to my new home.

  I suppressed a shudder as Michael unlocked the gate and we made our way through the deserted side yard to the back door. A single light glowed over the door and it cast a ragged circle out onto the back lawn, making the dark reaches of the yard feel that much more threatening.

  We went inside, each of us saying polite words about dinner and then going our separate ways to get ready for bed.

  “Goodnight,” Michael said, passing me in the upstairs hallway as we traded places in the bathroom.

  “Goodnight,” I said.

  And then the house was quiet, except for the creaking of the structure itself and the scratch of overgrown branches outside the bedroom window. I had brought an Aerobed from Mom’s house when she sent me home from the diner, and it was far more comfortable than the camping setup I’d borrowed from Michael. I thought maybe I’d actually be able to sleep.

  I forcefully kept my mind from thoughts of ghostly presences, terrifying shrieks, or angry correspondents, and tried to find something more peaceful to let my mind turn over as I drifted off. Somehow, my thoughts turned to Michael Tucker, to his conflicted face as he told me there was no point in making plans for ourselves, that they’d all get ruined anyway. And then to the strong muscles of his forearms, his hands, the broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his deep green Henley shirt. He might be a Tucker, I told myself, but I could still appreciate his aesthetic appeal. The man was attractive.

  I’d just begun to drift into the calm happy place between waking and sleep, when an ear-splitting scream sounded from just beside me. I shot straight up to sitting and searched the darkness around me, terrified to discover a set of beady eyes glowing in the darkness, staring right at me.

  The funny thing is, I’d never thought of myself as a screamer. But it turns out, I am. And the scream that I let loose was ten times louder and more terrifying than the one that had frightened me in the first place.

  Michael burst into my room, switched the lights on, and rushed to the bed, and putting his arms around me as he pulled me against his chest.

  His very bare, very muscled chest.

  “Are you all right?” He asked, his voice breathless. “What happened?”

  I let him hold me, but my eyes searched the room my cheek pressed against his chest. “Someone was here,” I managed.

  “In the room? You saw someone?” His grip on me tightened, and his voice had become steely.

  I nodded against his shoulder, but as my panic began to recede, other things began to register. He smelled clean. And manly. A little like hay or grass, maybe. But good. Reassuring.

  He held me tightly against him, his strong legs to one side of the bed as my heart rate descended. I could feel the beating of his heart against my cheek, and it was comforting.

  “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice soft.

  “Yeah,” I managed.

  “I should check the house. See if there’s anyone here.”

  I nodded, though the idea of him wandering through the house if someone was really here was terrifying. “Okay.” I climbed out of bed and tugged down my nightshirt, unwilling to let him out of my sight, even if he was about to lead us both to our deaths. Better than sitting here alone, waiting for his screams to echo through the house.

  I followed at his heels, creeping through every room in the old creaking house, flicking on lights and checking closets. And there was no one inside. No one but us. We even checked the creepy attic.

  “Do you think maybe you dreamed it?” he asked.

  I thought about that. “I had been almost asleep,” I said, accepting the glass of water he offered me as we stood in the kitchen. Michael stood next to the sink, completely disregarding the fact he wore nothing but a pair of flannel pajama pants that rested quite low on his hips. I was trying to be just as nonchalant about the fact, but if I was honest, he had the nicest body I’d ever seen up close, all molded muscles and sinew. “But that scream pretty much woke me up.”

  “Yeah, you screaming woke me right up too.”

  “Not my scream.” I whacked him with the back of my hand, and it felt a little like hitting a cliff face—hard and unyielding. But warm. I pushed away thoughts of being in his embrace. I’d think about how nice that had been later. “That same horrible scream we’ve been hearing. The sage didn’t work at all.”

  “Shocking.”

  “Your sarcasm isn’t helping right now.”

  “I know. I’m sorry.” He paused, his gaze dropping mine and finding the floor. “Listen, are you going to be okay to go back to bed? I mean—”

  “Hey,” I said, putting some bravado into my voice that I definitely didn’t feel. “Of course. I’m a big girl.”

  “You can sleep in my room again,” he offered. “If you want.”

  I didn’t respond right away, but thought about how I’d feel knowing he was right there, versus trying to be comfortable in the bigger room alone, where I’d most definitely seen a set of eyes in the darkness. “Um. If you’re sure?”

  “Of course,” he said. “We’ll get things sorted out tomorrow.”

  I followed him upstairs, feeling a little sheepish about my own terror, and climbed into the sleeping bag I’d put back into his room when I’d brought in the Aerobed. “Thanks,” I said.

  “It’s nothing, Addie,” he murmured.

  And then I lay there in the dark for a long time, listening as his breathing turned even and deep. And finally, I slept.

  15

  Veggie Restoration

  Michael

  I woke to sunlight streaming through the dirty film that covered the windows of the bedroom. The filth gave the light a gauzy quality that seemed to float around the room, ethereal and insubstantial—like a ghost might be, if such things existed.

  A shaft of light fell across the woman sleeping three feet away from me, her hair spilling across the white linen of the pillow and onto the floorboards surrounding her. Addison’s face was turned toward me, and in sleep she looked innocent and serene. When Addie was awake, she was beautiful, but when she was asleep, there was something in her expression—so unguarded and trusting—that made my heart twist inside my chest when I looked at her.

  I lay for longer than I probably should have, resting on my side, my eyes wide open as I considered her. Mrs. Easter had said we were babies together—well, I would have been the baby. Addison was five years older than I was, not that any of that mattered now that we were adults. In the soft possibility of dawn, I searched for any memory of us as children, in this house maybe, but none came. And the realization made me sad,
because I thought now that any time I got to spend with such a beautiful woman would be time I’d want to remember forever.

  Quietly, I slipped out of my sleeping bag and to my feet, picking up my clothes from atop the old chest as I did so. The roofers would be starting early, and I’d need to wake Addison so I could head down to the store, at least for a bit, but for now I was going to let her sleep. It had been a rough night.

  As I brushed my teeth, my mind kept creeping back to the previous night, to the fear and terror I’d felt when I’d heard Addison scream. I didn’t remember running to her room, or going to her bed. All I remembered now was holding her, pulling her against me and wrapping my arms tightly around her, fiercely. As if I could protect her from anything that threatened. As if she really needed me to. But in that moment, Addison Tanner had not seemed like the competent and decisive career woman I knew she was. She’d seemed vulnerable and scared, and while I knew there wasn’t much I could do for a woman like Addie who could certainly take care of herself, I knew I could at least use my size and strength to give her a fighting chance.

  I laughed to myself. A fighting chance? Against what? There was nothing in this house except some really old plumbing and a lot of memories belonging to other people. I didn’t believe Addie had seen eyes in the darkness any more than I believed the witchy women who’d stunk up the place the previous day were actually banishing spirits. I pulled open the medicine cabinet, where I’d stashed my razor, and stared inside for a moment, not fully awake.

  I reached for the razor on the top shelf, and my fingers brushed something against the back of the cabinet I hadn’t noticed before. Removing the razor, I peered inside. And reached in to remove a key. It was old and tarnished, but not ancient looking. Who would hide a key in a medicine cabinet? I might have, when Dan was small, I thought. But a key to what?

  When I was downstairs, I slipped the old key onto my keychain and set about making coffee and muffins. Daniel had always loved chocolate chip, and while he wouldn’t be here until after school let out, he wasn’t picky about eating muffins that had been made hours before. It was my version of giving him an afternoon snack—one I had time to prepare, since he usually met me at the store in the afternoons during my week with him to help out.

  Twenty minutes later, I heard the telltale creaking of floorboards overhead, the groan of pipes in the bathroom, and then Addie’s feet on the stairs. For some reason, anticipation built in me over the thought of her coming down to the kitchen, still touched with sleep and whatever strange thing had passed between us the night before. Something in the way I thought about Addison had shifted, and it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. She might have been a Tanner, and I’d been bred to despise those, but more than that, she was Addie.

  “Muffins?” she asked, looking around the kitchen in surprise. “I smell muffins?” Her hair was wet from her shower and had been braided into a long plait that hung over one shoulder. Her skin was pink and clean, and those dark eyes were wide and clear. She looked like she belonged in a soap commercial, and for some reason my stomach flipped when her eyes came to rest on me.

  “Yeah,” I said, a twinge of embarrassment pulling my eyes to the floor for no reason I could fathom. I fought the feeling and forced myself to meet her gaze. “I make them for Dan sometimes.”

  “Oh, he’s coming today, isn’t he?”

  “Yep. I plan to be back here around one, and he should be here by four. I’ll make dinner for us all tonight if you don’t have other plans.”

  Addie laughed lightly, but the sound was sad. “I have no plans, Michael. Except Sunday dinners with Lottie.” She crossed the kitchen, pulling a mug from the open shelf and then turning to the coffee pot. The machine made single pods or a full pot, and it had felt like a full pot kind of day. “May I?”

  “Of course,” I said, feeling out of place, as if I was hosting this beautiful woman in my house. I took a cup too, mostly to give my hands something to do.

  “So roof today, right?”

  “Yes,” I said, and her reminder had me peering out the windows toward the back, but the old garage would have blocked my view of any arriving work trucks. “They should be here soon. Want to hear a roof joke?”

  Addie looked uncertain.

  “It’s on the house.”

  “Stop that,” she said. “That’s terrible.” But the corners of her lips turned up in a way that made it feel so much better than terrible.

  I shrugged and turned back to the muffins. Dad jokes were in my blood.

  “Anything I need to do? To supervise or whatever? I’ve never had a roof repaired.” She wrapped long fingers around her mug and sat at the wood table, those eyes fixed on my face.

  “Just be here in case they have a question or find something unexpected.”

  She nodded, and then sipped at her mug.

  “Oh, speaking of unexpected.” I pulled out my keys and took a seat across from her, singling the one I’d discovered out from the others. “This was upstairs in the medicine cabinet. Any ideas what it might fit?”

  She looked at it, one of her fingers tracing the outline against the wood of the tabletop. “No,” she said. “It doesn’t look that old.”

  “I haven’t been able to get into the garage,” I said. “Maybe it goes to that door. I’ll try it on my way out.”

  She nodded. “Let me know. So while you’re gone, I will supervise roofers, and I guess I can clean out this pantry.” She angled her head toward the open door at the back of the kitchen. “There are cans in there from nineteen-twenty, I bet.”

  “Don’t throw the old stuff out though,” I said, surprising myself. “I’d love to see it.”

  “Into antique vegetables?”

  “I would have said no, but for some reason I want to see the cans.”

  The oven timer dinged then, and I went to retrieve the muffins with a smile on my face. Addie’s wit was a combination of sarcasm and self-deprecation that I enjoyed. She wasn’t overly confident—though I couldn’t really fathom how a woman like her wasn’t—but she was clearly super intelligent, and that made her quick with a joke. I liked it. A lot.

  “Wow,” she said in a breathy tone as I put a plate of muffins in the center of the table next to a tub of butter. “Don’t let Lottie know you can bake like this.”

  “Think she’ll feel threatened?”

  She nodded, and the idea of her thinking I was good at something gave me little flush of pleasure. I was good at so few things, it was a nice change.

  “Instead of vegetable restoration, you could get the rooms ready for the floor refinishing down here,” I suggested.

  Addie looked at me, her nose adorably scrunched in confusion. “How would I do that?”

  “I brought the drum sander over and stuck it in the parlor. Just need to move the furniture into the dining room and start sanding, really.”

  “I have no idea how to operate that thing.”

  “I can show you. It’s like a vacuum cleaner. You’ve used one of those?”

  She frowned at me, her eyes narrowing. “Once or twice. But I do appreciate that you didn’t jump to the conclusion that I had just because I’m a woman.”

  “Okay, then you should be good. Just get it scuffed up. The professional guys will do the rest.”

  Addison was finishing a second muffin as I washed my hands and started getting ready to head to the store, but when her phone rang, I turned to see her answer it.

  “S’my mom,” she said through a mouthful of muffin. She finished chewing and then answered the phone.

  I watched as her face changed from carefree and happy to dark and drawn. Whatever Lottie was saying wasn’t good. I crossed my arms and waited for her to hang up, feeling an odd certainty that the call might have something to do with me.

  “The moose,” Addie said, putting down her phone.

  “Oh shit.” I sighed. It had to be my cousins. No one else had access to the kind of heavy machinery required to haul that enormous moose around town
. “Where’d they put it?”

  “Town square,” Addie said. “Wearing a tutu, I guess.”

  I couldn’t stifle the laugh that launched from my throat at the image.

  The smile vanished from Addie’s face and her voice was sharp. “That statue is very dear to my aunt.”

  “Why a tutu?” I managed to ask between repressed chuckles.

  “There was a sign around its neck. ‘Tanners are tutu stupid.’”

  I sighed. That wasn’t very clever. “My cousins are idiots.”

  “Resourceful idiots,” she noted. “That thing must weigh—“

  “About a ton,” I confirmed. When she lifted an eyebrow at my quick answer, I confessed, “I’ve helped move it before. In my less educated days. Before we were partners.”

  “And you weighed it?”

  “No, but the equipment I used had one point five ton limit, so I know it’s not over that.”

  She nodded. “I see.”

  “I’ll make sure they return it this morning, okay?”

  “My mom is furious.” From her tone, I was guessing Lottie wouldn’t care how quickly the moose made it home. The damage was done.

  I sat down for a minute, gazing at Addie. There had been a time when I would have found this funny, but seeing how her mother’s angry call had worn down whatever energy reserves she had made me realize how much even silly pranks could wear on people. “I’m sorry, Addie.”

  “You didn’t do it. I know for a fact where you were all night.”

  “You’re my alibi,” I said, smiling without thinking about how I’d almost implied something I hadn’t meant to. We’d been together. But we were not together. Not like that. The damned blush threatened again and I cursed my ginger complexion.

  “It would be really nice if you could put it back,” she said, letting my strange innuendo go.