Coincidence. The noises and creaking, and when it stops? It’s a stupid coincidence.
“Fucking hell.” I press my hand against my heart, trying to slow it down. Is it possible to die from fear? Because I nearly perished just now.
Still, to be sure, I bang on the wall at the base of the stairs, where the noise seems to be coming from.
Nothing changes. Until eventually, it stops.
I wait for a long moment to see if it starts up again, but it doesn’t. Blissful silence, other than a small creak from somewhere else in the house, far away.
“Okay, I’m freaking done with this.” I take a deep breath and make my way back upstairs, where I get ready for bed and crawl under the covers.
After a long moment staring at my bedroom ceiling, I jump out of bed, hurry to my door, and lock it.
2
SETH
On the half-hour drive over to Fair Heights, I reflect on my relationship with my parents.
It’s hardly a thing worth considering. Because what relationship? Our connection was weak before Kyle’s death. They spent Kyle’s and my childhood working and ignoring us. When I tried to get their help in talking Kyle out of his marriage to Madison, they ignored my concerns.
And when he died, they turned into bitter assholes, intent on stealing his insurance money out from under Madison.
Although I’d been against the marriage to begin with, I couldn’t let that stand.
We’ve barely spoken since.
As I pull into their driveway, I wonder if maybe we were all too harsh on each other. Death does crazy things to people. My parents didn’t need the money—they’ve always had plenty, with my mother’s career as a high-up manager of network engineers, and my father’s work as a financial analyst.
This house I grew up in doesn’t scream wealth. It’s a modest three-bedroom in an older neighborhood. Big trees, wide streets. Large front lawns. It’s still upper middle class, though. I realize, as I get out of my car and face the house, I grew up privileged, although a bit lonely. Kyle wasn’t born until I was eleven, so we weren’t exactly playmates. I was in charge of babysitting more than I should have been. Our parents did whatever they could to not be around us.
Yeah. Privileged but lonely. Fuck this place.
A car pulls up behind me. I turn around and freeze in place, shocked. It’s Madison.
She parks and gets out of her car. She has on a pair of jeans and one of her zombie t-shirts. This one bears the logo from Shamblers—silhouettes of zombies against a full moon. Her light brown hair blows gently in the breeze and she flips her sunglasses up to hold her hair in place. “Hey.”
I’m glad to see her—in fact, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved to see someone at my parents’ house. But instead of saying so, I blurt, “What are you doing here?”
“Good to see you, too.” She sticks out her tongue. “Damiano said you were coming here today. I brought you coffee and a croissant. I thought you might also want some company. But if you don’t, I can leave the food and go.”
I take a few strides and crowd her up against the side of her car. “You’re the only snack I want.”
She laughs. “That’s so cheesy, Seth?—”
I shut her up with a kiss. Why would I want to go into my parents’ house and search for clues when I could lose myself in this beautiful woman? When I deepen the kiss, plunging my tongue between her lips, she moans and clutches my shoulders.
I press her against the car, letting her feel my hardness against her soft belly. “I should take you right here, in view of the neighbors.”
“Seth, that’s a terrible idea.” She squirms away from my kiss and places her hands on my chest.
“It’s a brilliant idea. They’d be scandalized, but they’d like it.” I slide a hand down to her waistband. “But if you don’t want that, I could finger you instead. If you’re good, I’ll let you come.”
“Seth.” She moves her hands to my face. “I love being touched by you. But I didn’t come here to distract you—I came here to help.”
“Distraction is help.”
Her sad smile punches me in the gut. “I know.”
