Page 68 of Debt of My Soul

A flicker of recognition passes through me before the realization hits.

Chapter 27

Liam

Fleur puts it together and I almost laugh at her expression. Her stormy eyes narrow at the coat rack my grandfather made, and I know she’s made the connection when they burst open, widening while her head snaps to me. She must know the story behind these coat racks then.

She opens her mouth to say something when my grandmother’s voice rings out in the kitchen off to the right.

“Liam, is that you? I told your grandfather I heard that truck rumbling out in the—oh, Fleur. I didn’t realize you were here.”

My grandmother’s eyes drag over Fleur, working their way down her oversized shirt, that’s mine, and the sweatpants she can barely keep up, also mine. She looks between us, wiping her hands on her apron. The scent of orange scones wafts across the kitchen. Couple that with the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock in the corner, my eyes suddenly feel heavy. Every time I come over here, I want to nap. Truly sleep because it’s something I haven’t done in years. This place is home. All things comfort. More so than my own parents’ house.

Adam didn’t think about Darrin coming after his portion of the Old Hillside legacy. Didn’t think he would. But that’s thething about Darrin, he would, he did. I’d do anything for my brother, but I’d sell my soul to the devil so my grandparents could keep their livelihood.

Fleur shuffles behind me as she steps from the back door into the kitchen with familiarity and ease.

When I first heard the new girl in town was working at my grandparents’ bed-and-breakfast, I was happy they had some extra help around the place. They’ve had trouble keeping consistent housekeepers willing to show up and do a job most believe is beneath them. I’m unsure why Fleur escaped to our little town, although I doubt she’d say she’s escaped anymore. Although her determination to fix up the old farmhouse while cleaning rooms to do it is admirable.

Seeing Fleur with Pam at the bank, I instantly pinned her as the new girl, and I probably made myself come to town more than usual to get a small glimpse of her. Being able to talk with her in this very parking lot—her with no shoes—gave me more peace in the last four years than my drawing has.

I never had a shot with her, not really. Not with who I’m associated with. Then the town was buzzing with how Adam was helping her renovate the farmhouse and the local gossip mill had them married in the next five months.

Some part of me, maybe the primal part, relishes the fact I’ve married her and he can’t.

“Sit down, Fleur. We’ve been so worried about you! Can I get you a scone and some coffee? Your parents called here looking for you since they hadn’t heard from you. They mentioned a call to the sheriff but got nowhere.”

I sneer at that. Of course not. Darrin owns the sheriff. If anyone thinks there’s law and order in this town, it’s because Darrin allows it.

Fleur swallows, looking at me with sad eyes. I hate it. When she cried in River’s store, I about drove the two hours to theairport and put her on a plane myself, removing her from this ruin of a town. If I didn’t have so much riding here, I would’ve.

“Thank you, Mrs. Northgate. I’m okay. I-I’d love to call my parents to let me know I’m all right. Could I use your phone?”

My grandmother stares at me, and I know what she’s thinking already. How could I? The short answer is I paid a debt with my soul and everything I do is questionable these days. It’s hard to keep pointed true north. To keep the burn of hell from licking my heart.

“Of course, sweetheart. Here, let me grab that for you. Liam, your grandfather needs help in the garage.” She says it less like a fact and more like a command, one I jump at to avoid Fleur’s pleading face.

When I walk outside, the picture before me reminds me of when I found Fleur in the garage. My grandfather reaches for boxes inked with scrawled lettering across them I can’t make out. It smells rank in here. My nose wrinkles in disgust, and when my grandfather catches me out of the corner of his eyes, he blows a puff of air out through his mouth, the gesture swelling his cheeks.

“I know, Son. Something’s dead in here, and your grandmother tasked me to find it.”

I smile at the name he’s always called me. While I’m not truly his son—my mother is their only child—our bond is just as strong. Past events made sure of that.

“I can smell it,” I mutter, ripping the hair band from my hair and slicking it back to put up again. “How can I help?”

He lets out a chuckle. “Well, I need to get past all these boxes to find the issue. Probably a raccoon or possum got stuck back here and couldn’t make its way back out.”

Moving forward to help displace the stacked boxes, my boots thump against the concrete, and when I look down, the outline of feminine flats is still on the dirt-dusted floor. My mindwanders to the woman sitting in my grandmother’s kitchen, munching on orange scones and most likely being doted on by her nurturing ways.

Focus, I tell myself, mumbling the word that has been on repeat in my mind all day. This thing with Fleur is secondary.

“So why have you come by?” My grandfather groans as he bends low to wrestle a cardboard box that is darker in the bottom corner, having been soaked by something. I’m not sure I want to know.

“I needed Fleur to stop by.”

My grandfather sighs as he relinquishes his box to another pile of stored linens and garden gnomes. It’s slightly disturbing my grandmother’s affinity for them.

My grandfather’s expression morphs into one of confusion. The silver eyebrows matching his hair fold together, creating a deep V, and he tilts his head, searching for more than my few words.

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