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“It just does.”
“Nothing is perfect, and logic is subjective.”
“Logic is not subjective,” she argued.
He tried to usher her up the deck stairs ahead of him, but she wasn’t about to let him out of her sight; she didn’t want him behind her, where she couldn’t see him. So he ascended first, after watching Hope collect her shoes. At least she followed him, instead of fleeing into the night. Gideon stepped into the darkened bedroom from the deck. He did glow in the dark. A little.
Hope closed the French doors behind her but left the drapes open, so they could see the waves not so far away. The sound of the surf was muted but still filled the room as it had all night. It was a comforting sound; it was the sound of home.
Gideon stood near the end of the bed, drained by the storm as well as being rejuvenated by the electrical charge that continued to dance through his body. “The logical explanation is that my family is different. More different than you can imagine.”
“That’s not—”
Possible, she was going to say. He didn’t let her get that far. “My brother controls fire, among other things. He’s Dranir, leader of the Raintree family. My sister is an empath and a talented healer, and her little girl is showing amazing promise in a number of fields. Echo is a prophet. I talk to ghosts. Should I go on?”
“That’s not necessary,” Hope said coolly.
“You still don’t believe me.”
In the near-dark room, he saw Hope shake her head. He could drop the subject, let it lie. She would request her transfer, as he’d wished for just yesterday, and he could go on about his business. She wouldn’t tell anyone what she’d seen and heard here tonight, because she didn’t want to appear foolish in any way. Surely she knew that no one would believe her.
But he didn’t want to let her go. There was something here that he couldn’t explain. He wanted Hope; of course he did. She was beautiful and smart and ran in high heels. But beneath that, there was something more, though he did his best to ignore it. If he slept with her, she would have to request a transfer. She wasn’t fond of breaking the rules. In fact, it was probably a safe bet that she never broke the rules.
He slowly unwrapped the bandage at his thigh. At last Hope moved closer to him. “You really shouldn’t do that. Not…” Her voice died away as he removed the last of the bandage and revealed the scratch there. “Yet,” she finished weakly. She reached out cautiously and laid her fingers over the nearly healed wound. She licked her lips, cocked her head, and uttered a succinct word he had never expected to hear from that sweet mouth.
“How…?” She drew her fingers away, and he immediately missed them. “What did you…?”
“I’m Raintree,” he said. “If you want a more detailed explanation than that, we’re going to have to make a pot of coffee.”
They didn’t sit on opposite sides of the room this time. Gideon sat beside her on the couch, and they each held a mug steaming with hot coffee. By the light of the living room lamps she couldn’t tell if he was still glowing or not. A part of her wanted to insist that what she thought she’d seen had been her usually dismal imagination running amok, but she couldn’t lie to herself that way.
“You’re telling me that everything my mother told me all my life is true?”
“I can’t say, since I don’t know everything she told you.” Gideon leaned back and propped his bare feet on the coffee table. He’d pulled jeans on, covering the impossibly healed wound on his thigh. Those jeans were all he wore, along with the green boxers and that silver talisman that rested against his chest, hanging there from a black leather cord and as much a part of him as the color of his eyes or the way his dark hair curled by the ears.
“Auras,” she threw out. That was, after all, a bone of contention between her and her mother.
“I don’t see them, but they do exist,” he answered plainly. “It’s another energy thing. In order to see them, you have to be clairsentient.”
“Yours apparently sparkles,” she said grudgingly.
Gideon just gave a half-interested hum that sounded almost bored.
“Ghosts.”
“Those I can attest to without question,” he said, casting a glance her way.
Hope leaned her head back against the leather couch. She’d removed her jacket and her shoes but otherwise was still completely and professionally dressed. What she wouldn’t give to get out of this bra and into something comfortable….
She should be running for the hills; she should be terrified of what she’d seen and heard here tonight. And here she was worrying instead about the way her bra cut into her shoulders and the flesh beneath her breasts. It was going on four forty-five in the morning, and no woman was meant to wear a bra for twenty-two hours.
“Afterlife?”
“Yes,” Gideon answered almost reverently.
Hope closed her eyes. There had been times when she had convinced herself that life could not possibly go beyond the physical boundaries she could see and touch. It was easier that way, most days. Believing we were here, then, one day, we were gone. No expectations, no disappointments. Listening to Gideon’s simple answers…she believed him, and it felt unexpectedly good. “What’s it like?”
“I don’t know.”
