Page 24 of Hallow Hill at Halloween: Part One

“Agree,” he said.

I waited, listening for his signal that they were secure.

There must be a word for the sensation a person feels when they’re experiencing something that either couldn’t or shouldn’t be happening. The last person I would’ve expected to see standing on my porch was standing on my porch. My ex. With an atypical smile that looked odd on him.

I suppose my brain was frozen because I couldn’t think of one thing to say. In the silence, he decided to go first.

“Hello, love.” His eyes went down my body and back up. I suddenly wished I was wearing an ankle-length overcoat. “You look good.”

Everything about that raised my hackles so that I was shaken awake. How dare he call me “love”? When and why did he start using the word as a term of affection? It sounded nauseatingly pretentious coming from him. And how dare he offer an opinion on how I look.

“What are you doing here?” I seethed.

His eyes drifted to Keir who was standing just behind my right shoulder. “This is my husband.”

Cole scoffed. “Hmmm. We’ll see.”

“We’ll see?” I heard the beginnings of a proper freakout in my voice. “Wewon’t see anything. Ever. Keir is my husband. YOU. ARE. MY. EX. State your business and get the hell off my porch.”

I learned that Fen and Frey could discern changes in my mood, or tone, from behind a door at the other end of the house, because their barking escalated in pitch and intensity.

Over the din, Keir asked, “This is, ah…?”

“Cole.” I confirmed. “Yeah.”

I turned to see Keir assessing my ex-husband in a way that made me wonder what I’d ever been thinking when I hitched my wagon to such a loser.

He sniffed and might have shaken his head ever so slightly. It was clear he wasn’t worried. “I’ll be in my den. Call me if you need.”

His eyes flicked behind me. “Seems you got dogs.” I said nothing. “They don’t seem to like me.”

“Should they?” I wanted to slap myself for taking the bait and engaging in conversation. He would take it as an opening.

“So that’s him?” Cole smirked.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time, so I’ll indulge. What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

“No!”

“Aw, babe! Don’t be like that. I’ve come a long way.”

Calling me “babe” made me clench my teeth. I tried not to let it show, but I’m an open book and I could see he was enjoying that he could rattle me.

“I don’t care if you swam and hitchhiked. Again, state your business and go.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “So much emotion. You know the shrinks would say that means there’s still a spark.”

“I’m glad you’re seeing more than one therapist. It’s a move in the right direction. But it has nothing to do with me. Now, before I shut the door in your face that isn’t aging all that well, WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”

I knew his patterns. Repeatedly ignoring, or evading, my simple question was a form of manipulation.

“I’d love to tell you,” he said nodding. “Iwantto tell you, but…” He looked around. “Why don’t you invite me inside?”

“Because this is the idyllic, loving home I’ve made with my husband, and I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“Your husband?” He laughed and raised his chin to indicate something beyond me inside the house. “That pool boy?”

---