“No, just talking to myself.” I glare back at him playfully, thankful my back is to the door.
He stage whispers, “Told you no one can see me.”
I bite back a smile.
“Anyway,” my aunt continues after a moment, “the kitchen was mildly stocked, and I was able to cobble something together for dinner. You hungry?”
“Yes,” I answer, surprised by my own enthusiasm.
After the intentional food poisoning and later being starved for a week, I lost my interest in food a while ago. I learned I can’t starve to death, but it sure still hurts like hell.
“Fantastic. Meet you downstairs.” She gives me a quick, tight smile then walks away.
I get up and go down the hallway to the bathroom I skipped over earlier, Felix trailing behind me. It’s decent sized with a combination tub/shower that has sliding glass doors, a vanity counter with sink, and the toilet tucked behind a separate door.Huh.It continues the motif of wood, beige, and what looks like river stone for the floor.
I step in and wash my hands while Felix pretends to lean against the door jam, his arms folded over his chest. I’m pretty sure if he actually tried to lean against the wall, he’d fall through it, which makes me wonder how he doesn’t fall through the floor.
“How come you don’t have a British accent?” he asks without preamble.
“Why would I have a British accent?” Minus a hand towel in sight, I flick my hands a couple times at the sink then wipe them on my jeans.
“Because your mom…”
“She’s not my mom,” I cut him off harshly. “She’s my aunt.”
“Okay.” He elongates the word into several syllables.
“I’m sorry,” I sigh. “I just…”
“Say no more,” he interrupts with a swish of his hand. He points at himself. “Family killed by yet unknown crazy murderers. I get complicated family issues.”
“You seem strangely okay with the whole mass murder thing,” I say, leaning against the sink. My fingertips lightly brush along the smooth stone surface.
“You seem strangely okay with talking to a dead guy,” he challenges with a raised brow, then sighs, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. “Obviously, I’m not okay, but everything that can be done about it, is. My friends and I are trying to solve what happened, and in the meantime, I’m going to enjoy as much of my undead existence before they shove me through the pearly gates.”
My heart squeezes at the thought of him moving on.But I just found you.I think of the patch of burnt grass and guilt eats away at me over my earlier unkind thoughts.
“How long have you been dead?” I whisper.
He looks away. “About four months.”
“Wow.” I release a pent up breath. “I think July is cursed.”
A wry smirk pulls at his lips. “You’ll get no argument out of me. Why is July cursed for you?”
I shove away the memories of previous year’s birthdays, each one more gruesome than the one before. My fingers press harder on the counter. “It’s one of those complicated family issues.”
“Ahhh,” he nods sagely then brightens like flipping a switch. “Well, I heard there was food downstairs and since I can’t eat anymore, I must live vicariously through you.” He turns and heads down the stairs, shouting over his shoulder, “Remember you’re eating for two now.”
Chapter 2
Felix
Isit in the middle of my old bedroom waiting for Callie to return from the bathroom. She is… wow. Beautiful is an understatement. And funny! But in that way only some people can appreciate while most find it uncomfortable. Then again, it takes that kind of person to talk to a ghost like it’s no big deal.
She has an amazing laugh, with a huskiness that can really get a guy’s blood pumping. Well, if I was still capable of such things. But it’s definitely something she isn’t used to doing. I could see the warm surprise on her face every time she did it.Ugh.What kind of life has she lived where laughing is a foreign concept?
She said she has complicated family issues, but the haunting shadows that live in her clear water grey eyes and the purple smudges that hang beneath them say that’s a hell of an understatement. What she doesn’t know is, tomorrow, I’m likely going to dump a whole lot more complicated on her.
