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The guy scowled at the loose board. “Of course we have good schools. And the bus is combined for the high school and elementary. It drops off the elementary school kids on the way to the high school. That’s what I did with my little brother, making sure he was safe.”

“That’s nice, but I don’t know⁠—”

“Come on, Mom. We’re here. We may as well look around,” Sage said, tucking my arm in hers and pulling me toward the door.

I let her pull me inside, aware of how lifelessly I was floating around, helpless in the face of her will because my own will was sobbing on the floor in a closet somewhere about not being lovable when I still loved Clark so much. And now I was a predator. It didn’t compute. Nothing made sense.

We walked into a well-worn entry hall, the chandelier above bright and flickering. The candle bulbs looked so realistic, like it really was fire. The floor was marble, the stairs oak, and the paneling dark, smoke-stained wood. It was a renovator’s dream.

The child vampire cosplayer followed us in but didn’t try to sell it. The house did the work for him because it really was a beautiful place, even if it had been neglected too long.

“The boys will probably try to kill themselves sliding down the banister,” I said, looking up at the curved stairs and the portrait on the landing far above.

“They’re always trying to kill themselves,” Sage said dismissively. “We’ll just put cushions at the bottom.”

I looked at her then back at the banister, and it didn’t seem quite so tall and dangerous. I blinked a few times then shrugged. My perceptions were horribly off today. “Show me the kitchen,” I said, because that was the most important thing.

He headed to the left, under an archway with doors on either side. He rapped on the left one as he passed. “Powder room.”

“Powder room? Like gunpowder?” Sage asked, stopping to peer through the door. “Oh. It’s just a toilet.”

I looked over her shoulder, and sure enough, there was a cute little bathroom with a pink toilet and green everything else.

“That’s a look,” Sage said, snickering.

I shrugged and followed the child I’d taken advantage of. “How much time do you spend here?” I asked, because that was a very important detail.

He shrugged one shoulder. “Not a lot. If something breaks, I take care of it.”

“Is it your house, or your sister’s?”

“No. We just care for it. We were asked by the last owner before she died to watch over it.”

“Ah. But you’re paid, right?”

He glanced at me. “Our house where we live, that’s the cost of it. It’s a small thing to take care of a house for free rent.”

“Okay. I guess if that works for you.” It was an extremely strange last testament, though.

We stepped into the kitchen, and I stopped, staring at the space. It had large windows over the sink that looked out on a garden, with a bright blue Dutch door leading outside. The kitchen wasn’t in the best shape, with rusted copper pots hanging on the walls, and the pink cookstove looking like something ugly from the fifties that would probably cook my bake sale cupcakes unevenly, but it was large, with a big wooden table in the center that screamed cozy dinner with close friends and family.

“It’s a kitchen,” Sage announced then added, “I’m going upstairs to check out the bedrooms.”

I turned to tell her to wait, to not leave me with the teenager I’d exploited, but she was already gone.

I cleared my throat and stared at the pink stove. I had to say something. I didn’t want to say anything. But I had to. “I’m really sorry about the other night.” There. The words had come out just fine, only a tiny squeak at the end.

“Last night,” he corrected, like I might’ve somehow forgotten how raw my humiliation was.

“I didn’t realize how old you were,” I said, apologetic, turning to face him. Even now, he didn’t look so young, not with the beard and the scowl. And he had such broad shoulders.

“Does it matter?” he asked with that glower.

“Of course it matters. But I didn’t think anyone under twenty-one would be there. Come to think of it, you weren’t drinking. Why were you there?”

“I just wanted to meet people,” he said after a second, but his words buzzed like a lie.

Which was fine. There was no reason for this complete stranger to share his motives with me. Other than that I knew what he tasted like. Maybe he had a crush on a girl bartender who was closer to his age. So why had he been staring at me?