Chapter Twenty-Three
Troy
“I told you guys, I’m fine.” Adam is in the passenger seat of the Mustang, looking a hell of a lot better than when Brennan got us out of that warehouse.
Wes is crammed in the back, also looking worn out but much better. The rear seats of two-door cars weren’t made for guys his size, though.
Adam and I have dealt with hospital homecomings before. Whenever my best friend ends up getting admitted, though, I’m a mess.
Trees and fences and farmland whiz past us on the rural road that leads from Beacon Hill, where Adam was hospitalized, back to where we live in Belle Argo. It’s a scenic but otherwise uneventful drive.
At least, it better be.
Part of me is bracing for Adam to tell me he still feels like shit or to pass out on us, and then we’ll need to go right back. It’s happened before.
“Right.” I pat his leg. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
“Fuck you,” he mutters.
“Not until you get your energy back.”
He grumbles and leans his head against the window, mumbling something I can’t hear. Meanwhile, a glance in the rearview tells me Wes is pretty much the same as he’s been this entire time.
After we fucked earlier, he withdrew into himself. Since then it’s been a lot of deep sighs and staring into space. Which doesn’t in the least bit make me nervous.
Even though Adam and I have touched and explored every inch of Wes’s body, we still can’t tell what’s going on in his head. He could be second-guessing this thing we’ve started. Maybe it’s too much, or he’s over it now.
Adam glances my way and then toward the back seat as well, as if to ask me what’s going on. The truth is, I don’t know.
Then, out of nowhere, Wes asks, “Hey, can we stop the car?”
“What?” I hit the brakes without thinking, not really knowing why. Good thing the road is empty right now, save for the carcass of an armadillo that met an untimely end. “Kitten, you okay?”
Wes answers by tapping Adam’s seat so he can get out of the car. Which doesn’t tell me what I want to know.
Until he makes a sharp left and starts heading down an overgrown gravel driveway, I’m not at all clear on where he’s going.
There’s a shoddy fence across it that looks as if it’s been damaged for a long time.
A couple of signs have been nailed to the posts.
One says Private Property, and the other says, For Sale. Price reduced.
Adam ducks back into the passenger seat. “Might as well see what’s up, right?”
“You sure you’re still feeling okay?”
He narrows his eyes. “If you don’t stop asking, I’m going to tie a knot in your nutsack.”
“That’s not really my kink, babe.”
“I know.” He shoots me another look before following Wes down the drive at a more leisurely pace. Since I’m apparently the only one who hasn’t been called home by the mother ship, I pull into the driveway and stop with the car nosed up against the busted gate so I can join them.
“What is this place?” I ask when I reach them.
Wes has stopped about halfway down the drive, facing a large house that’s got the sort of vibe you see in horror movies.
You know, the kind where it used to have a prosperous family living there but one night the father went off the rails and murdered everyone with a broken wine bottle?
The faded siding looks like it used to be a cheery yellow, and the pillars on the rocking chair porch are faded. The front steps are definitely a safety hazard.
Wes shoves his hands into his pockets. “The Beacon Lake Bed and Breakfast.”
“I think I’ve heard about this place.” Adam lifts an eyebrow. “Didn’t someone die here, forever ago?”
Seriously? “I fucking knew it.”
“The original owner.” Wes nods. “Local legends say she was a witch, and a spell went wrong. Burned the whole place to the ground. After they rebuilt, it kept changing ownership. There are rumors that it’s haunted. Guests used to report seeing the woman’s ghost standing at the foot of their bed.”
For as creepy as that fucking story is, I think it’s the first time I’ve seen Wes look truly alive. He hardly ever even smiles. I’m talking genuine smiles, not the customer service, ass-kissing bullshit he does while working.
“Didn’t know you were so into all that horror shit.” I nudge him with my shoulder.
Wes does seem to love his scary movies, but this is another level. I enjoy a good animal documentary. Doesn’t mean I wanna go see the polar bears in person.
“Watched a lot of movies during chemo. Horror was my favorite. I’d get tired, but not tired enough to sleep. Watched all sorts of things. Except romantic comedies. Those always pissed me off.”
I can guess why. “So, you wanna go ghost hunting, or what? What are we doing here?”
I’m not trying to sound impatient, but I know I do. I’m antsy about getting Adam home.
Adam shoots me a look and mouths I’m fine at me again.
Wes does a three-sixty turn, looking around the property.
It’s objectively a gorgeous place, with a lake sparkling in the distance and massive trees that look older than the town.
“I’ve been following the history of this place for a while.
It last closed in the early two thousands, and it’s been empty ever since.
The elements haven’t completely taken over, so someone must be maintaining it.
” He gestures toward the grass. “Someone’s been mowing.
But it’s never gone up for sale until recently.
They keep dropping the price, so they must be motivated.
It’s two and a half acres of land here. Some developer will probably grab it soon. ”
His smile fades on the last sentence.
Adam nods toward the building. “You ever been inside to look around?”
Wes shakes his head. “Unless they’ve dropped the price to whatever my car is worth, there’s no point.”
Adam’s expression tells me he doesn’t like that defeated look Wes is wearing any more than I do. “What’s the harm in looking around?”
Wes shrugs his shoulders and turns back for the car. “It’s probably a safety hazard inside, anyway.”
The group chat buzzes from my back pocket.
Simon: Everyone making it to brunch this weekend?
Christian: Sorry, I know I’ve been MIA. I’ll be there, though.
Troy: Glad to see you back, buddy
Christian ran into some trouble when an abusive ex gave him a head injury or something. It’s nice to know he’s coming back to the land of the living. Been worried we weren’t going to see him again.
Michael: Probably.
Dean: Probably?
Michael: I think I can make it. Not 100%. Probably.
Michael: Hey, Troy, Brennan said there were drugs wherever you guys were taken. Was this another dealer moving in, or what?
Troy: Not sure. Probably or what
When I glance over at Adam and Wes, a shiver runs through me. I’m not ready to talk about what happened to us, not to anyone else.
Considering the whole situation with Wes, trying to explain what happened when we were taken would only cause an explosion of questions we’re not ready to answer.
That ball is in Wes’s court, so I return my phone to my pocket.
There’s a meow from the tall grass. Looking down, I find a white cat with orange and black patches staring at me expectantly. Wes crouches down, giving her a finger scratch under her chin. “What are you doing here, huh? Do you belong to someone?”
His smile is wide open. Sweet and awestruck. Am I jealous of the way he’s looking at that four-legged creature, or do I just want to make him smile that way more?
“She must.” Adam gestures to her. “Looks well fed.”
Downright fluffy, if you ask me. “Definitely too friendly to be feral.”
“You sure? You’re friendly and also feral.” Adam laughs.
I give him the finger. “Probably a barn cat for one of the nearby farms or something.”
Wes shakes his head and stands, appearing even more dejected than before. “You’re probably right. Maybe I can come back and check on her sometime, to make sure.”
I follow behind him, still confused. “Not to be a dick here, but why would you want this old house anyway? If there’s a ghost, or people think there is, and it keeps scaring folks away, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“See, that’s the thing though.” Wes stops again, turning to look back at the place. He waves his arms toward the big house. “Look at the place. It’s gorgeous.”
“Bet if we got a little closer, you could hear the paint peel.”
Ignoring Adam’s slap to the back of my head, I raise my eyebrows at Wes. I’m asking legit questions here.
“It needs someone to give a shit,” Wes counters.
“The direction the property’s facing, you know the light sparkling on the lake in the morning has got to be fantastic.
According to the listing there’s an owner’s cottage out back and four en suite bedrooms in the main house.
If it were marketed as a haunted hotel rather than a regular B&B, people would pay to stay here.
High-end B&Bs in this area rent for as much as four hundred a night, which would allow the right buyer to recoup investment costs in as little as?—”
He stops and his hands drop to his sides. “Never mind. This is probably boring for you guys.” With sluggish steps, he turns to head back toward the car.
Adam looks at me and I look back at him. “What just happened?” he asks.
“I’m not sure.”
But I think I know. I think Wes showed us a piece of himself, something he maybe hasn’t shown anyone before, or maybe something nobody else has cared about. It feels important. Something we should handle with care.
Wes is already climbing back into the car. Nothing else to do but follow him.
He’s silent the rest of the way home. The sun is setting, remind me none of us have had dinner.
“We need to get you food,” I tell Adam.
“Let’s order something when we get back.”
“There’s a lasagna in the fridge,” Wes says. Which, I’m honestly glad to know he’s still with us.
Except… “When did we get lasagna?”
“I made one earlier. While you were in the shower. You didn’t notice the smell of it baking?”