Page 85 of The Persistence of Thornes
“Yeah?” The word comes out as a nervous quaver. This man has a unique way of unsettling me. Though not in a bad way whatsoever.
“If you want me to take the reins, just tell me you’re in.”
For a second, all I do is stare, processing the words. It takes longer than it should, but eventually, understanding dawns.
“O-oh,” I breathe, pulse suddenly pounding. “Okay.”
“Have a good night, Hal.”
“Night,” I echo.
Once he’s ended the call, I turn on the TV. There’s no way I can focus on a book now, yet there’s no way I’ll be sleeping anytime soon. Not when I’m a live wire, one second away from exploding.
It’s after two a.m. when I send the text message.
I’m in.
CHAPTER 22
HALLE
Itake a deep breath, giving myself one last pep talk before I knock on Salem’s door.
She’s there in an instant, swinging the door open with a quick smile before she darts off, chasing a little boy with dark hair who’s sprinting away shockingly fast for a human being with such short legs.
“Samson!” she chastises. “Put that marker down now.”
While she battles with the squirming toddler, I let myself in and shut the door behind me.
“I didn’t even know we owned any Sharpies,” she gripes as she holds the markerin her right hand and wrangles him with her free arm. “But leave it to Samson to find one.”
“Kids are good at that.”
My brothers were terrors from about the ages of two to six. They never failed to get their grubby little hands into the things they shouldn’t.
“This way,” she says with a nod. “Want a cup of coffee? I made turkey sandwiches for lunch. If that’s not okay, I have?—”
“That’s great,” I say, not wanting to inconvenience her. She’s got her hands full as it is.
“Have a seat, and I’ll grab everything.” She motions to a long dining table.
Rather than leave her to do the work, I wring my hands and take a step closer. “Can I help?”
I’d much rather feel useful than sit here and do nothing.
She plops the squirming toddler into a highchair and scoots it to the table. “The sandwiches are on the second shelf in the fridge. If you want a bottle of water, grab one.”
With a grateful smile, I obey, pulling the sandwiches out and setting them out of Samson’s reach.
She sighs and drops into a chair beside her little boy. “Keeping tiny humans alive is a full-time job.” Perking up, she snags a sandwich, and as she unwraps it, she keeps her attention downcast. Finally, she clears her throat and peers up at me. “I’m the one who invited you over, and now I don’t really know where to begin.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “It’s weird getting to know people as an adult, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She holds a quarter slice of her sandwich up to Samson’s mouth.
He tries to yank it from her hand, but she’s faster, pulling back before he can get his hand on it.
He grunts. “I feed myself.”
