Chapter 20 Cade
CADE
Something is off about Ansel. I can sense it as soon as I arrive home. Neo’s visit seems to have left him off kilter.
It takes a lot of effort not to find the guy and chop off his ears.
But I won’t do that. Not when I know how much Ansel loves him.
“What?” he asks, smoothing out his hair. “Is there something on my face? I did have an ice cream earlier with Neo.”
“No, you look perfect,” I reply. “As always.”
“How was work?”
I groan, giving him an eye roll. “Boring.”
Ansel shoots me a sympathetic look. “Oh shit. Were there a lot of meetings?”
“You could say that.”
That’s an outright lie, but how can I tell Ansel that it was boring because I didn’t get to kill the guy? Cutting off his finger was all right, but nothing to write home about.
I sigh and stare down at my hands. It’s a good thing I was able to wash up before returning home. And I always keep a fresh set of clothes in my car. However, the poor dry cleaners, who are paid to keep things quiet, have quite the job on their hands.
The man was a crier, and his veins produced far too much blood. More than usual.
Ansel shifts on his feet, looking almost tired.
I study him closely. “Did you nap?”
“No, I was busy with Neo. He just left, actually. I don’t think Wylder likes him.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t. Wylder likes very few people.”
Ansel grins. “Yeah, I got that impression.”
I step toward him and pull him into me. His hands twine around my neck as our chests meet.
“So, tell me what’s wrong. I know there’s something on your mind.”
He rolls his lips between his teeth. “Neo brought up a good point.”
“And what point was that?”
He hesitates, almost like he doesn’t want to agitate me. “He said I should be able to leave the house. Should be able to go out with you, because we can’t know if we work as a couple if we don’t go out into the real world.”
I want to hate Neo for making Ansel doubt things…but it’s true he’s raised a good point. Besides, I’ve got no problem with showing Ansel off. “Of course you can. I’d love to take you out. You’re not a hostage, but we do want to protect you. You’re safe here, but I don’t want you to feel trapped.”
Ansel peers up at me, and I can’t help but run my hands through his hair.
“I know. I think I want to go out. With you. I want to see the town. I’ve never explored St. Dismas before, you know? Not properly, anyway.”
My eyebrows rise. “Is that true?”
“Yeah. I mean, I live here, but I don’t spend a lot of time roaming.”
“Just to the gay bar downtown? The one with the nice forest in the back.” He blushes and tries to pull away, but I keep him against me. “I’m kidding. That was honestly the most exciting and romantic thing to have ever happened to me.”
He sighs, and I kiss him softly. “And yes, we can go out. I know this town like the back of my hand.”
“Yeah?”
“I can show you some secret places, tell you a little about the history of St. Dismas that not many people know, and maybe we can finish it off with a tour of my house.”
Ansel nods, his eyes alight with excitement. “That sounds amazing. Let’s go.”
“Hold on, little butterfly. We need to prepare. I want to make sure you’re safe while we’re out, so we’re bringing guards.”
“Oh.” He looks so disappointed that my chest constricts.
“You know that it’s only to keep you safe?”
“Yeah, but it still…it feels invasive.”
“I just want us to return home. Can you allow me that?”
He thinks about it and then presses his face to my chest. “Yeah, I’ll allow it.”
“Are you telling me this library is haunted?”
“Mhm,” I say as I take him through the stacks of books. It smells like paper and binding. I used to hide out here when I was little, when my dad was unusually cruel. It was a little bit of safety from a bad world.
“What’s it haunted by? A ghost?”
“Sure is. I saw it once when I was little.”
He blinks at me, his fingers running along the spines of all the books situated neatly on the shelves. We’re in the back of the library near the autobiographies—my favorite place when I was younger. All those lives lived, good and bad. I used to wonder if my dad would end up here.
Thankfully, he died before his story could be written. And if I can help it, it never will be. “I saw her here, actually.”
“When was this?” He seems skeptical, but my butterfly always has been.
“I was about eight. Was sitting right there, against that wall, reading a book about an astronaut. And she just appeared.” I swallow as I remember her bright eyes, the pained look on her face, her hair on fire. “She looked at me long and hard, and then she rushed at me.”
I remember it so vividly. The way I stood up and my pants were wet. My dad beat me for it when I got home.
“Never let anyone see a Buckingham weak.”
I spent three days in the bottom of a hole after that, forced to come to terms that there weren’t any ghosts in this world, and if there were, none were around to rescue me.
“Jesus, that’s scary,” Ansel says, shivering. “Do you know who she was?”
“A woman who died here. There was a fire in 1875. Burned the place down. The librarian couldn’t escape.”
“Shit,” he murmurs, and then pushes his way into me. The feel of him against me, his body seeking protection from me, warms my heart, and the bad feelings, the memories that haunt me, flit away into the abyss.
“Maybe we can go to a different place, one with fewer ghosts.”
“I think that’s a good idea. Have you ever been to the old clock tower? The one near the church ruins?”
Ansel perks up. “No. I want to though.”
His fingers link through mine, and he practically pulls me from the library. The sun is setting in the distance, and I know it will soon be dark, but I still walk him across town, the guards following us, keeping an eye out.
We move up a small hill near the graveyard, our feet slipping on the wet grass, and I see the old church ruins where requests are made to The Firm. And then my eyes land on the old clock tower that sits above the town.
“I had no idea this was here.”
I see the guards fanning out to keep an eye out for anything suspicious as I pull him close.
“Why did they have a clock up here?” Ansel asks when I point to it.
It’s nothing more than rubble and stone, but if you look closely, you can almost make out the hands still moving, still ticking away, telling time.
Ansel knows that requests come to us via a church, but he doesn’t appear to have put two and two together.
“It was important for the people in town. The mayor wanted something that always kept people on task. Idle hands make for the devil’s workshop. Or so the saying goes.”
“How weird. Was there a chime or a bell or something?” Ansel asks, letting go of me and walking around the base of the clock.
“A bell, but it was stolen years ago, melted down for the silver in it. After that, vandals and kids went around and took it apart, piece by piece. But on certain nights, you can still hear it chime.”
“How fucking cool. Should we wait, see if we can hear it now?”
We stand silent for a moment, with only the sound of the wind blowing through the trees.
“We can stay here for as long as you want, butterfly. Or I could take you to my place. It’s small but cozy.”
His body perks up, and he hops down off the stones and moves toward me.
“Your place? Yes, please. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
I crack a smile at that and pull him into me. “Come. There’s nothing here but ruins and battered memories. Let me take you someplace new. Someplace where our dreams have only just begun.”
“I’m sorry, did you say this place was small?” Ansel’s mouth is agape, his eyes wide as he turns in a small circle. “This foyer is as large as my entire apartment. Maybe even bigger than that.”
I shrug, feeling a small smatter of satisfaction bloom inside of me. He likes it. He has to. This is where we’ll live if he keeps me.
And he will. I won’t cope otherwise.
“How many bedrooms is this?”
“Ten. Oh, and five bathrooms. But I wouldn’t mind adding more.”
“Jesus.” He runs a hand through his hair, and then his shoulders slump.
I don’t like that posture. Not at all. Something is wrong, something’s changed since we walked in here.
I don’t know what it is. Maybe he’s tired.
We did walk a while through town, my mouth prattling off all sorts of facts while he listened.
Maybe he needs to eat or rest. Maybe he’s just overwhelmed by everything today.
“Let me show you the kitchen and make you a small snack. I think you need to eat.”
He nods and lets me lead him to the right.
Now that I’m here, showing him my place, I realize how big the space actually is.
I see it through his eyes. When we walk into the kitchen, his gaze falls on the marble counters, the stainless-steel appliances, the fresh fruit in the baskets, and he groans.
“Are you for real? Two fridges? Three ovens?”
“For the catering services and the parties we throw.”
“Jesus, how often do you have parties?” he asks.
“At least a few times a year. You can come to the next one, if you’d like.”
“Oh god, I wouldn’t fit in.”
“You would, because you’re mine.”
He peers over at me, his cheeks blushing as his fingers run along the smooth, clean surfaces.
He finally pulls open the fridge and eyes the food inside. “You haven’t even been home in ages. Why do you have so much food here?”
“The cook brings it. She knows what I like.”
“Another motherfucking cook!” His voice echoes around the space, and I cock my head.
“Why are you upset, butterfly? Does this offend you?”
He huffs and shuts the fridge door, turning to face me.
“No, of course not. I just feel a little out of my depth. This place is much more than I could ever imagine.”
I roll my lips between my teeth. “I know you’re not used to it, but could you get used to it?”
Ansel rubs the top of his arms anxiously. “It’s a lot of space, Cade. And honestly, we shouldn’t even be thinking about that. We barely know each other.”