Painting on a saccharine smile, I tried again. “Can I come in?”
“Uh-huh.” His gaze rested on me and the undeniable lust in his eyes sent shivers up my spine. Was the liquor the cause of this bold gaze or was this just all him?
Walking toward the house, I felt like that ten-year-old girl psyching myself up to ring the doorbell of the crotchetiest man in town. “Not going to lie, this is still kind of scary.”
“It’s muscle memory. For most of your life you’ve associated this place with the stories we spun about dead bodies and captured children. Shit, my first night sleeping here alone …”
“Yeah?”
“Nah, you’ll probably just tease me for my confession.”
Vigorously shaking my head, I disagreed. “I won’t. Cross my heart and hope to expire.”
He stopped on the porch, facing me. “My first night here when the lights were off and all you could hear was the wind aggravating the old wooden bones of the house, I couldn’t fallasleep. Every creak or howl left me on edge. I’d been in the basement, but had I really checked it thoroughly?”
I leaned in closer, hanging on his every word.
“I could swear I heard someone calling my name. Edison, Edison.” His tone was scratchy and hushed. “Not over and over again but frequently enough for me to know it wasn’t my imagination.”
“What did you do?” I asked breathlessly.
“I headed to the basement with my gun and a flashlight?”
“Why a flashlight?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you just turn the lights on?”
“Uhm, because the power hadn’t been cut on yet. Anyway, I went to the basement just to confirm I was alone. Sweeping the area, I didn’t find anything. I was at the foot of the steps and then I heard it again. Edison.” I grabbed his arm, moving us away from the front door. “I followed the sound, pushing aside boxes and random junk and there it was …”
My eyes splayed wide open. “What?”
“You remember that kid that went missing when we were little?”
“Wait, are you saying Mr. Castle had a dead kid in the basement?” Edison’s serious expression broke and a rumbling laugh emerged. “Asshole,” I shouted while shoving and not so playfully punching him in the arm. “You’ve been fucking with me this entire time?”
“I’m sorry Fancy, you’re just so damn gullible.”
My brows curved upward. “Not cool.”
“I see you’re still ready to believe any and everything.”
Who the hell did he think he was? I wasn’t some naive country bumpkin.
“It’s not my fault I trust people and take them at their word. Shit words mean things, so when someone says they can’timagine life without you or they love you, why wouldn’t you believe them? How the fuck are you supposed to know they’re full of shit and are telling every Tonya, Denise, and Harriet the same damn thing? I don’t want to live life thinking everyone’s running game.”
All humor vacated his face. “Hey, I was teasing. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve.”
“You didn’t. My nerves are not that sensitive. Plus, I wasn’t talking about myself or any personal events I might be experiencing. I was just generalizing. A man’s word should be his bond. Say what you mean and mean what you say because when you say things, people will make life decisions based off of those words. And then next thing you know you have a condo in a city you hate, an overpriced car when all you wanted was a pink Jeep, and a whole fucking dog.”
“Hypothetically.”
“Of course.” I cleared my throat.
Edison leaned in, practically touching his forehead to mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, open the door.”
