Page 85 of A Heart So Haunted
“I’m sorry I’m of such little help. We know, at least, the room recycles memories. Maybe start there. And I will attempt to come forward more.” The words almost sounded pained.
“Then when you can, find me at night,” I breathed. I didn’t realize how it sounded until I said it.
Something in his eyes glittered. “Is that a request? Am I being invited?”
“Maybe.” We stared at each other, both breathing a little heavy, like the air between us was more nutritious if the other inhaled the other’s exhale. Like he might give me patience, and I might give him a dash of anger. Just enough to spur things along. Then his expression tangled, his pupils turned to razor-thin slits.
“What else aren’t you saying, Hadrian?” I whispered.
“I’m saying,” he said, “I hope you’re the praying type. Because I have little idea what I am tangled in, and I do not know what will happen when we find it.”
“The confidence you have in us finding anything is quite refreshing.”
A smirk kissed the corners of his lips. “You said you went to the library looking for pictures of me?”
“Not just pictures of you, you twit—”
“Any religions you know of that you could research?” he pressed. I couldn’t focus when he watched my mouth like that. With reverence.
That’s when it hit me. Religions. Cults. Aunt Cadence had asked about it before.
My stomach dipped. That meant Irene very well might know, and that she hadn’t emailed yet wasn’t promising.
Maybe I had scared her away.
“I trust you, Lan.” His words grew labored, feathered at the ends. The sun had slid down his chest, his shoulders, right to his elbow. Enough that it warmed my back. “And if I am honest, you are all I have.”
His mouth wavered inches from mine. I didn’t realize my head had tilted until it started.
Like whisps of smoke, Hadrian vanished in the morning sun. I was left with warm wrists and flutters far, far down in the center of my heart.
Chapter Seventeen
Iheard the truck before it pulled into the driveway. A fine layer of dust coated its sides. Across the road, the open field of waist-high grass swayed in unison.
Something about the conversation with Hadrian spurred me. Meeting with Ivan didn’t have to mean I was forgiving him. It was just a packet. A review, really, if I thought about it. This was a toe to the line. Anattemptto move in a direction. That’s what adults did. They set aside their differences, tugged up their bootstraps, and tried to work with the person they hated.
I set the last half of my protein shake on the foyer table and made to unlock the front door. Ivan had already thrown the truck in park and climbed out of the cab. The very sight of his smile made the farthest corners of my heart curl up, curlaway.
His attention immediately snagged on me as I opened the front door. His laptop, stacked against a manila folder, was pinched under his arm. I suddenly wished Emma hadn’t left yet. Or, even better, that dark had fallen and I had the assurance of Hadrian lurking in some odd corner.
“Landry,” he greeted, hand shielding his eyes.
I braced myself. No, I couldn’t rely on other people to handle my issues. This was for me to work with.
I gave a strained smile. “Ivan.”
“You look lovely.”
I put on my brave face. “Thank you for stopping by.” Maybe something had changed in the last near decade—maybe Emma was right. Maybe I was being too hard on him.
Ivan started to climb the steps when my pocket vibrated. Emma and Sayer both knew Ivan was stopping by today, which left one person: Mom.
“I never got a chance to tell you what a beautiful place this is,” Ivan said. I offered my hand, elbow locked, but he reached for a side hug.
Holes emerged in my intestines, pushed bile up my throat. He didn’t seem to notice the stiffness to my body when he squeezed my shoulders.
Heat—everywhere. And not the good kind. Not the heat I felt when I was watching Hadrian watch me, when I felt the brush of his fingers on my hand, when I noted the glitter in his eye. A sickly kind of heat.
