Page 1 of Haunted Hearts
one
WILL
There’s beer soaking into the carpet when I walk into the living room, freshly showered but trying to get my tired, non-caffeinated ass out the door. On the couch is my brother, Zeke, empty beer cans strewn around him and a string of spit hanging out his mouth. He’s passed the hell out.
“Seriously, man?” I say, not even caring if I wake him up.
Actually, on second thought, hebetterwake up. It’s the third time in two weeks he’s come home wasted and slept ’til noon, and even though I love the fuck out of him, I’m not running a daycare here.
“Mm,” Zeke groans. He rolls over onto his back and slings a long, tanned arm across his face. “Turn the light off, Will. My head hurts.”
I snort. “The only light that’s on is the sun, you dumb fuck. Come on—time to get up. You’re not going to lay around again all day.”
“Man, you suck,” Zeke says. But he pushes himself up to a seated position anyway, then sits there blinking at me, a lopsided smirk on his face. “You should just admit you’re jealous, and maybe I’ll take you along next time.”
I snort, kicking a beer can out of my way as I move toward the front door. “Oh, yeah? What am I jealous of exactly—getting kicked out of your apartment? Your headache?”
Zeke rests the back of his head against the couch and puts his feet up on the coffee table. This time, he grins for real. “Ha. A headache’s a small price to pay for amazing head?—”
He’s cut off when I chuck an empty can at him, and it hits him square in the face. He bursts out laughing. “I don’t want to hear about your exploits. I want you to get a fucking job.”
“Afuckingjob? Like, where I get paid to—” This time he catches the can I’ve chucked at him, the flimsy aluminum cracking between his hands as he grins. “—fuck?”
“I don’t care what you do,” I bite out, dodging the can as he pelts it back at me. “Just get your shit together, alright? I’ve got your back, but you need to start pulling your own weight, dude. You don’t see Benji and Phoebe showing up here, asking for handouts.”
Zeke makes a face and falls back against the couch cushions, annoyed at the sudden mention of our other siblings and his shortcomings. He hates being reminded that I’m covering his student loan payments. “Yeah, yeah. I will. But really, this chick from last night? She’s got an older sister—fine ashell—and I bet she’d be down for a piece of Will Holloway sometime. You’re brooding as fuck. Women eat that shit up.”
“I can get my own dates, thanks,” I say. And it’s true—I’ve never had any problems in that department. It’d be hard to miss the looks I get from women, even if it’s been a while since I did anything about it.
Zeke gets up from the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, stretching his sinewy arms above his head. He switches on the coffee maker. “I’m just saying, Will. You might be a little less uptight if you let someone suck your dick once in a while.”
He’s not wrong, but I’m not about to tell him that. I’m a one track mind kind of guy, and right now, that one track has nothing to do with women or fucking and everything to do with the meeting I’m about to be late for.
Besides, even if Iwantedsomething, relationships don’t work for the men in my family. I learned that when my dickwad dad walked out on us twenty-two years ago, and the way Zeke’s going, it looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.
“There’s a hot ghost that hangs out at the harbor,” Zeke offers, and my head snaps around to glare at him. Zeke’s grin is absolutely wicked. “If youreallywant no strings attached, I mean. Granted, it’s been a minute since I?—”
I scoff. “You know I don’t fuck with that. That’s all you, man.”
“Oh, yeah.” Zeke waves a hand. “You’ve got that wall thing going on.”
“Yep. Thank Christ I do.”
“You know, I still don’t get how that works,” Zeke drawls. He looks up at me, quirking an eyebrow as he chews a nail. “Like, I see these fuckerseverywhere—and if I don’t see them, I hear them. They’re always whispering and shit, like freaking snakes in my ear. Can’t ever tell what they’re saying, but I’m pretty sure half the time they just wanna know if their heels look good, or if I can tell their still-breathing ex to go fu?—”
“I don’t have time for this,” I say, stalking once again to the front door as Zeke grins.
Zeke knows good and well that I worked hard to shut down the ghost-seeing part of myself years ago. He knows I know exactly what he’s talking about too—all those creepy whispers and jump scares and asking favors—and that I decided I couldn’t fucking take it anymore, that I didn’t want anything to do with Dad and these weird-ass sixth sense abilities we so unfortunately inherited from him.
Not only that, but I’ve explained to Zeke several times how, after I made that decision, I spentmonthsbuilding up the mental strength to create an energetic wall around my mind that keeps me from havinganythingto do with ghosts. I told him about the hours I spent staring at my bedroom ceiling, gathering up all the little energetic wisps of myself and focusing them into a single laser beam of concentration. And when I got to the part about using that supercharged concentration to erect a shield—or a wall, as I usually call it—to finally free myself from the Holloway curse, this kid sat there and laughed at the word “erect”.
So, yeah. No. I’m not about to rehash my wall with him.
“Anyway,” I say, clearing my throat. I open the front door and glance back at Zeke, who’s lounging against the couch cushions again. “In actual important news, I finally got approval on the basic plan for the library renovation—which means I’ve got to start in on design and won’t be around to babysit. But Ethan Wilde’s on the board, and if I can manage to impress him with this, there’s a pretty good chance he’ll ask me to design that development project he’s been sitting on.”
“Dunno who that is—but I hope you get it, bro.”
Zeke flashes me a genuine smile, and for a minute, I can see the little kid I used to carry around on my back, galloping at full speed while he kicked me in the ribs. Zeke was just a baby when our dad peaced out, so the only father figure he’s ever really known is… me.
