I got out of the Jeep and he followed. I didn’t care how much swagger or scowl he threw my way. He was hurting and exhausted and it showed in every line of his body.
He unlocked the door and stepped into the house he shared with Ben.
I’d last been here for their housewarming, a gathering that seemed to have pulled half of Ordinary through this modern two-story that overlooked the waves.
They’d lucked out on lot placement and how the house was built. The curve of the bank it stood on gave the illusion of a lot more privacy than there actually was from the houses on either side of their property.
The interior was not what I expected out of a couple of guys who fought fires for a living. I expected bare brick, leather furniture, and mismatched art.
Instead it was cozy. Welcoming. Soft, without feeling overdone. It was like walking into a warm cabin retreat with thick blankets and pillows stacked on the couch, recliners positioned for a view of the sky and the TV that took up one wall, and throw rugs positioned to soak up the echoes of the wood floors.
There were a few hanging plants, a scatter of mail on an end table and something that looked like a half-finished carving project on the coffee table. A ridiculously comfortable-looking rocking chair with a bright green lap quilt draped over the back was set into a nook that was lined with shelves filled with a selection of books, carefully wrapped comics, scrolls, and little trinkets, some that looked like they were gathered from all over the world.
Everything about the house spoke to comfort, rest, ease.
It was Jame’s den, Ben’s sanctuary.
It was the home they had made with each other, for each other.
Jame didn’t bother turning on other lights as he stalked into the house, crossing the living room before going down a hall toward their room.
I supposed being a werewolf meant you didn’t need light to navigate, and having a vampire for a boyfriend pretty much meant the same thing.
I was not a werewolf or vampire (no matter what Jame thought) so I flicked on a couple lights as I walked into the main room.
“Delaney?”
I froze, my skin cold. The air had dropped to freezing. I could see my breath.
Ghost. There was a ghost here. And not just any ghost.
“Dad?”
The word came out in a puff, and I wrapped my arms around myself to hold heat to my body.
I heard the shower turn on down the hall where Jame had gone. If he was in the shower, he couldn’t hear me unless I yelled.
Okay, let’s hope I wouldn’t have to yell. I wasn’t afraid of my dad, not as a man, a parent, or a disembodied spirit. But I was worried for him.
My hand cupped the worry stone in my pocket and I rubbed my thumb across the smooth warmth of the rose quartz. The motion and sensation calmed and centered me.
This was just my dad. Just his ghost. Just him.
“Are you okay, Dad?” Nothing. “Are you here to talk to me?” More nothing. “I felt you at the lighthouse. Saw you there. I’m worried about you. Can you show me where you are? Can you tell me you’re okay?”
A thump of something heavy hitting the floor made me jump. “Shit. I mean, shoot. I mean, cool. Good. So, over by the mantle?” It was still cold in the room, but I wasn’t going to cower away from my father.
“I don’t know why you had to knock something off their mantle, Dad. If you broke one of Ben’s antique knickknacks, you know he’s going to be upset.”
No sign of him. No sound of him. The room was still cold, but other than that, and the overwhelming feeling of knowing that had been his voice, his presence, there was nothing to prove that there was a haunting going down.
“Why Jame’s place anyway?” I scanned the floor beneath the mantle. Spotted a fist-sized green stone lying near the table. It was big enough to have made the loud thud when it fell. I didn’t know Ben collected rocks. Or maybe that was Jame’s hobby.
“What was the lighthouse all about? I understand you checking in on me, or Myra or Jean. But these other places?”
I bent. “Well, at least it’s not breakable.” I had never seen a stone like that before. It was pale green and almost translucent with shots of black and red jagging through it, sparking deep fire that I was more used to seeing in opals.
“So let’s put it back where it belongs.” I picked it up and straightened.
