Page 4 of Trust

“Sounds good. I can’t wait to settle in and share our dark secrets and hidden desires.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Do you believe half the things that come out of your mouth?”

“Yes!”

“An optimist, how…”

“Fantastic,” she finished. “Isn’t it better to believe in miracles than a tragedy is around every corner?”

“Not really.”

Unable to stop herself, she walked to his side. “Any chance of you changing your mind about that at some point?”

“No. And why would I?”

Lifting her hand, she ran her fingers softly over the scar that bisected his cheek and felt him stiffen beneath her touch. “Because you’ve already experienced a miracle of epic proportions.”

“Or a tragedy that would break most humans,” he said quietly.

“You don’t look broken.” Unable to determine why she’d crossed the invisible line of good manners and touched him so intimately, she slid her hand away. “Sometimes ruin is a gift and a road to transformation. A precursor to something amazing.” She let her eyes drop to the floor. “Perhaps that’s possible for you.”

Zane cleared his throat. “Does that amazing include being annoyed by my pushy neighbor and her mongrel dog?”

“Only if you’re lucky,” she said with a laugh before turning. “Point me to the dishes.”

“Top left cupboard, nearest the sink.”

“Got it.” She went to the designated cabinet, knowing she’d meant what she’d said earlier about unraveling his story. Underneath Zane’s surly exterior lay a person very much worth knowing.

God willing, he wouldn’t make it impossible.

TWO

Zane descended the staircase, heard a door slam on the third level, and tried to guess which of his dead relatives he’d pissed off. There were at least a half-dozen in residence, and he wished he could determine what it would take to get them to move on. “Why didn’t you guys put on a show when Olivia was here?”

Hesitating on the landing, he waited to see if they’d bother responding.

Nothing.

Damn spirits never cooperated.

He hit the bottom step and heard a sharp bark. “What the hell?” Stalking toward the front door, he swung it open and saw Bella wagging her tail. “Does the purple ribbon signify your royal lineage?”

Drool dripped from the dog’s mouth, and he stepped back when she pushed her way inside. “Seems you take after your mama and don’t wait for an invitation.” The beast barked in agreement as a cool breeze brushed across his skin, and he knew it was a sign that the family ghosts approved of the intrusion. “In case any of you are interested, this isn’t normal.”

Again, no response.

“Whatever.” He strode down the hall with the dog on his heel and entered the kitchen, trying to remember when speaking to ghosts had become a regular occurrence.

Giving the room a cursory look, he remembered what Olivia had said about kitchen porn and silently agreed. He’d been outdoing himself with the update and looked forward to making the rest of the house worthy.

Stopping abruptly in the middle of the room, he felt Bella bump into his leg and realized he’d had a positive thought. Weird shit, to be sure, since he couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked forward to anything.

Certainly, it had to be before he joined the armed services. Happy, woo-woo, mumbo-jumbo wasn’t part of life on the front lines as a Green Beret, and he’d never been inclined to move outside his three-foot world to develop the habit.

Was that something he should try and change? Did the new life he was forging have room for some positive vibes?

“Not likely,” he murmured as painful memories tore through him, parking themselves in their usual spot against his heart. He’d stood at the side of too many graves in the last several years and struggled almost daily with the reality that he’d survived when so many of his brothers in arms hadn’t.

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