For the second time, my eyesshootinto saucers. “You actually have one?”
He looks at me with indignation. “Of course I do.”
My cheeks flush. “Sorry,” I apologize, voice cracking like a teenage boy. “I just assumed…”
“I don’t use it,” he admits, face relaxing, “but it’s there.”
I snort out a laugh. “Alright.”
He gets to his feet, and I follow him mechanically to the second floor. He leads me to the master bedroom—the room I avoided on my solo tour—and stands just within the door, inviting me inside.
The bed is a four-poster with a canopy, just as I would have pictured. A burgundy and gold brocade bedspread covers it. It sits up high, butthere’sa little step stool on the floor. Allthat’smissing is a damn pea hiddenbeneath the mattress.
Every inch of the room is covered in dust, but there’s not much I can do to rectify that at the moment.Theodore was right; I feel my physical body starting to give out on me. The moment my head hits that dust-ruffled pillow,I’ma goner.
“Take as long as you need,” he says, quietly exiting the room and leavingme be.
I climb up and into the bed, tossing the first two layers of blankets and decorative pillows on the floor. I expected the sheets to be rough, made from wool, butthey’recool and soft. Even after all these years, I can feeltheluxuriousness. Theodore’s family clearly could afford the nicest things of theirera.
My limbs finally relax as I close my eyes. This time, theyremainclosed as I trust my spirit to drift into the void.
Chapter Eleven
THEO
There’s a woman in my bed.
Ihaven’tbeen able to say that since I was alive. Even then, it had been years sinceI’dfelt comfortable enough toopenmy home for anyone, especially those whom I had only a casual attachment to.
Kennedy’s long, red hair is fanned out against the pillow as she rests on her side. One armpeeksout from underneath the duvet and hangs over the side of the bed. She looks peaceful, as if she were meant to be here all along.
The sound of footsteps on the porchoutside catches my attention.I glance out thesecond-floorwindowbut see nothing, the top of the veranda blocking my view.But as I hover down the stairs and into the foyer, I pickupAidan’s steady spirit in the vicinity.I float through the door and find him waiting in the darkness.
“It’s late,” I state pointedly. “What brings you back?”
Aidansmoothsthe scarfthat’sbeen tied neatly around his neck. “I wanted to check on you. Today was…a lot.”
“Yes, well, it’sabouttime something exciting happened around here.”
The forest is still tonight, the heavy winds from earlier having subsided. Even the creatures have settled for the night, the only sound I hear being the subtle in and out of Aidan’s breathing.
“Where’s Kennedy?” he asks, glancing through the windows.
“She’s sleeping. Upstairs.”
Aidan nods. “Probably exhausted.”
“Yes. Probably.”
There’ssomething hanging in the air between us. I feel the hesitation coming from him.
“Was there something else?” I ask, trying my best not to sound irritated. I know Aidan means well, but Ihaven’thad this much human interaction in ages, andKennedyisn’tthe only onewho’sexhausted.
“Is it not enough that I wanted to make sure my friend is okay after a stressful day?”
Guilt washes over me, but Idon’tlet it show. “Just a temporary anomaly in an otherwise monotonous life cycle. No need for concerned citizens.” Just for good measure I add, “Though I appreciate it.”
He clears his throat. “Alright.” He steps off the porch, giving me apityinglook. “I’m here if you need anything.”
