Chapter 17
Chapter
Seventeen
Tipping back the kitchen chair to balance on its two back legs, one arm hooked over the backrest. My free hand rolled a coin I had picked up over my knuckles, walking it to the pinky and back to the thumb idly.
It was a particularly shiny bit of metal I had found peeking out from under the fridge that had caught my attention.
“Are you going to at least pretend that you don’t live in a pigsty?” I asked with clear hypocrisy, my boots propped up on the edge of the kitchen table.
Bale grunted. “This is your place too, jackass.”
Technically, he wasn’t wrong. I had been living here for as long as he had been. Though the Faust homestead would always be home to me. After tragedy struck all those years ago, when Bale and I suffered our current fates, I couldn’t bring myself to go back there.
The property ultimately went to the Polk family by default. They maintained it for years until the last of their kin left for greener pastures. Or they had attempted to. Supposedly, there had been some sort of freak hot air balloon accident.
“I may live here, but the mess is all yours.” I shrugged before I flipped the coin up in the air, watching it rotate in a pewter blur before it landed tails side up in the center of my palm.
Dropping the front two legs of the chair onto the floor, I withdrew my boots from the table and abruptly stood.
“She should be here by now; it’s noon.” I gave another pointed look to the wooden wall clock with a brass pendulum swinging methodically with each passing second.
Bale either didn’t hear me over the pounding of the rolling pin crushing a bagful of cornflakes or pretended not to give a fuck.
Walking over to the front door, I opened it up to look out over the cornfields and the dirt road that ran along its border and into town.
The piece of land this little cottage was situated on was a patch of land that conveniently had been marked as unincorporated by vote of the Town Council, leaving it as both outside Falston’s jurisdiction and unclaimed by any other bordering township.
The fields in front of the house were the furthest points from the town center, leaving us isolated from the typical buzz of the town’s everyday bustle.
For a moment, I wondered if Harlow had gotten lost. It was a ridiculous thought, given how few roads there were in this town, but a worry that nagged me, nonetheless.
Just as I considered taking flight in my crow form to track her down, I saw the familiar flash of raven hair coming down the road. The wind whipped it across her face as she hurriedly walked towards me, glancing behind her like she expected someone to be there.
Something was off.
I cut the distance between us in a few long strides, my hands planted themselves onto her shoulders.
“What’s wrong?” There was no asking if something was wrong, only demanding whatever it was that had rattled her. I already knew from the tension in her body, the otherworldly connection between us, that she was spooked by something or someone.
Her fingers pulled a few strands of hair away from her face as she shook her head, a forced smile on her face.
“Everything’s fine,” she said breathlessly, winded from her briskly paced walk.
What the hell was it with girls always saying they are fine when they clearly aren’t?
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders and tucked her in against my side, only to then press a kiss to her temple. My eyes darted around to survey our surroundings, but there was no movement other than the sway of the corn stalks succumbing to the strength of the breeze.
Granting her a brief reprieve from discussing what had gotten her riled up, I guided her towards the door. “Let’s go inside, Bale just started making his specialty.”
Once inside, I closed the door and watched as she took in the sight of our humble abode.
My jackets were hung up neatly on hooks by the door; Bale’s were tossed over the back of the recliner.
The side table next to the worn leather sofa told a tale of two very different lifestyles.
In the designated tray lay my wallet, keys, and phone in a neat line.
Bale’s personal effects lay in a pile next to it, the keys half hanging off the edge, ready to disappear between the arm of the sofa and the side of the table.
All my collected knick-knacks had a designated spot on shelves or in drawers, while Bale’s chaos made the place look like a tornado had run its course through the living room.
Bale appeared in the entranceway of the kitchen, arms folded casually in front of his chest as he leaned against the frame. His piercing blue eyes observed Harlow’s reaction to our personal living space.
“Glad you could make it, kitten,” he said gruffly.
Setting her purse down on a stool at the breakfast bar, Harlow perched on the seat next to it. Her usual teasing demeanor was conspicuously absent when she replied, “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Bale studied her for a moment, but it was unclear if he picked up on the same shift that I had. He turned and went back to the stove on the other side of the breakfast bar, melting butter in the cast-iron skillet.
I stepped up behind Harlow, rubbing my hands over her upper arms soothingly. Leaning in, I dropped my voice low. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you or keep me guessing all afternoon?”
While Bale feigned disinterest, it was the glance over his shoulder that gave him away.
Harlow shook her head, clearly trying to downplay whatever had transpired between when I left her tangled in the sheets this morning and her arrival here.
“I’m just trying to get a pulse on everyone in town, the trip to the library was… different,” she finally admitted.
Layering several types of cheese between the thick slices of bread, Bale’s shoulders tensed, but his focus remained on what he was doing. “Different, how?”
Contemplative silence radiated from her while she bit her lower lip in thought. I reached over, and my thumb freed it from the clutches of her teeth.
“I ran into Malcolm Dennison while I was down in the archives section—”
Bale whipped around so fast you could almost hear the air split around him.
“You what?!” He lashed out in a conflicted sense of outrage.
I knew Malcolm’s name would put a sour taste in his mouth, but the Falston Library’s archives were a sensitive topic that was bound to add fuel to the fire.
“Did he say anything to you?” Suspicion hung thickly on his words.
Credit to our girl, she straightened her back and narrowed her eyes at him while standing her ground. “A few things. Asked me to lunch, but I told him I had other plans. To which he shared his opinions on my choice of company.”
Malcolm asked her to lunch? Fucking hell. I was more than happy to let her indulge in whomever she wished while I dedicated myself solely to her, but him of all people? The thought of it made me want to drop half-eaten worms into every pathetic meal he touched for the rest of his life.
Meeting Bale’s eyes across the counter, he grumbled something incoherent under his breath before turning back to the grilled cheeses he had been preparing in the crushed cornflakes.
Of course, leave it to the diplomatic one between the two of us to press her to share what was said to her down in the basement.
While the sizzling of butter created a savory aroma tainted by the sweetness of the crushed cornflakes, I swiveled Harlow’s chair sideways so I could get a proper look at her.
“Look, the Dennisons aren’t our greatest fans,” I said, careful to pick the right words.
“Why?” She tilted her head slightly as she looked up at me.
The way she dropped that one word was dangerous. It was paired with a look and tone that said she thought she knew more than she was admitting to.
Dragging a hand over my face, I sighed. “Bad blood, Harlow. Family feuds. Shit that festers throughout generations.”
Bale snorted derisively, then flipped the sandwiches over in the pan.
Not helping, asshole.
“Look, there’s a lot of history, and I wish I could explain it all to you.”
Both her brows lifted questioningly. “The type of history that would explain why there’s a picture of you in the dust-ridden Faust family register from nearly a century ago?”
Shit.
I wasn’t prepared for this conversation. From the way Bale froze, neither was he.
“Right.” I paused, doing my best to toe the line between what she needed to hear and the truth.
“Long story short, we don’t have much of an explanation.
Neither of us really got a handbook on our shifting abilities.
There’s no way either of us could have guessed that we’d outlive everybody in town. ”
The bang of a cabinet closing as Bale took out three plates may as well have been a boom of thunder.
Harlow glanced over at his back, then looked at me with those damn captivating green eyes that maybe as well have been my personal brand of absinthe to drown in.
“I want to understand, Corbin. I’ve been struggling with who I am for years, having no one else who truly understands. You two are the closest thing I have to people who get it.”
Dammit. When she sounded so lost like this, it ate away at the guilt barricading the secrets Bale and I shared.
“Go on and tell her, Corb. She’ll figure it out in a few days anyway.” Bale surprised me with his willingness to open up, or at least expose our past and reveal the secrets we’ve been harboring for all these years.
He turned and placed two plates down on the counter, each one bestowed with one of his signature grilled cheeses. Two crispy and golden triangles of bread with a blend of melted cheese slowly oozing out like sunlight breaking over the horizon.
“Thanks,” she said as she pulled the plate towards her with a look in her eyes that said she was impressed before she even tasted it.
If she had expected just some bread slapped together with cheese that tasted like melted plastic, she was in for a whole other experience.