Page 111 of The Devil and His Ghost

He curled up right against me. The coolness of his spectral form and his quiet purrs calmed me down. I managed to unclench my tight muscles and take the strategic breaths I’d learned to fight off panic attacks.

My eyes grew heavier. I wasn’t sure how long they were closed, but nearby music woke me up. The album I’d had playing had been replaced with new sounds, and when I lifted my eyes to the chaise lounge next to mine, I almost wondered if I was still asleep and simply dreaming.

Xander relaxed against the back of the seat with his long legs stretched out. He’d changed out of his concert attire and into a thin pair of black joggers and t-shirt. His hair was damp, and I could smell his expensive spicy body wash on the breeze. His onyx eyes stared at the guitar in his lap as he idly strummed and played a slower melody.

Wordlessly, I rolled onto my side to face him. He didn’t seem to notice. A new piece began, and after a few strums, he sang softly under his breath. It wasn’t the kind of singing that someone did when expecting to be heard. The deep and rough words falling past his lips were uttered so quietly, I almost couldn’t make them out over the guitar, yet I caught the words, even if I didn’t understand what they meant. My heart tumbled over itself, listening to him singing in Mandarin. The beauty of the foreign words and song carried me away from all that troubled me.

When the song concluded, I whispered, “That was so beautiful.”

He looked up at me in surprise then gave a small, almost sheepish laugh. “You should’ve said something if you were awake. I wouldn’t have wounded your ears with my singing if I’d known. There’s a reason I don’t sing for the band.”

I shook my head earnestly. “I loved it. What song was that?”

“‘Yuèliang Dàibiǎo Wŏ de Xīn,’” he answered with a purse of his lips as he propped the guitar next to his seat. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Also known in English as, ‘The Moon Represents My Heart.’”

“That’s a lovely sentiment,” I mused and looked up to find the bright moon in the sky. A whimsical light in a dark place. A promise of eternity, as it was always there to shine down on you. A heart that was like the moon … what a wonderful idea. Clearing my throat, I met his eyes again. “How was your concert?”

Xander watched me studiously. He shifted to drop his feet flat on the ground and rested his elbows on his knees to fully face me. “What happened?”

“Hmm? Nothing. I—”

“Kendyll,” he cut me off firmly yet gently. “I can tell something has you rattled.”

I sighed dramatically. “And here I thought I was hiding it so well.”

He didn’t smile at my attempt to lighten the mood and distance myself from what was wrong. This was the point where I’d typically say something nasty or try to redirect the conversation elsewhere so that I didn’t have to talk or think about what hurt.

But I looked at his fingers, which hung where his arms braced on his knees. Those pricks from the rose’s thorns were long healed, the spots of blood long dried, yet I saw the evidence of the barbs like they were there all over again. I didn’t want to stick him with my thorns.

“I want to go to my brother’s wedding.”

“Terrance … called again to invite you?” he asked carefully.

Every time Terrance called around Xander, especially when Xander and I first started hanging out again, there was an almost instinctual tense caution that overtook Xander. He’d go from a happy, carefree demon to a man prepping for an invisible battle. He’d stick just a little closer after I talked to my brother, or he’d try to distract me from the conversation afterward with my favorite food or an impromptu sneaking in at an amusement park. That was when I pieced together why he got so worried when Terrance was brought up. The battle Xander prepped for was a fight to keep me should I run again, and he thought Terrance was the reason I’d fled last time.

Running into Terrance again after so many years of being on my own and avoiding anything that could take me back to the darkest time in my life had definitely jumpstarted my flight response, but it wasn’t because of him that I left.

After I understood Xander’s fear, I made sure to go to the demon myself after each talk with my brother, straddling and holding him close on the couch or making us tea to drink together on his terrace while he played his guitar.

Despite that, any mention of Terrance spurred a knee-jerk reaction in Xander to brace for an impending blow. It made me wonder how much I’d really hurt the Mischief demon when he woke up to find I’d gone with only a hateful note as a goodbye.

“Yeah,” I finally answered him. “He called again to ask if I’d come. He wants me there, and I … I want to be there for him. I mean, I love my brother. I’ve always loved him. But … I can’t go.” I squeezed my eyes and fists shut to keep all the emotions bottled up. “I can’t go back there and see …”

“See who?” Xander probed after a few beats of silence. He seemed to think before guessing, “Your parents?”

The mere word “parent” made me look at the ground between our two chairs. I curled in on myself. Knots wound tightly around my gut and up my throat.

Parents.

I didn’t have those.

All I had was—

Hands that I hadn’t even seen coming suddenly cupped my cheeks. I raised my eyes to Xander’s, who now crouched right by my chaise. He let go of my face to grab my tightly clenched fists and gently uncurled my fingers. My nails had formed divots in my palms, and the fingers ached from how hard I’d squeezed. Xander wove his fingers between mine and lightly squeezed my hands before drawing them close to rest beneath his chin.

“Talk to me, Ghost.”

Where to even start.