18. Eighteen
EIGHTEEN
Ihad four cocktails. Alcohol didn’t hit me as it did a human.
It did affect me if I imbibed enough, however.
My parents could drink eight bottles of wine each and walk away whistling.
The only time they got altered was when they fed from someone who was altered.
Me, however, I could drink two to three times as much as a human and still keep my wits. But there was a tipping point.
I hadn’t reached it tonight, but wondered after my weird moment with Knox. That didn’t stop the bounty hunter from insisting on walking me home.
“It’s not necessary,” I insisted when we were on the sidewalk in front of Ghost Bar.
“I usually walk Toni home. I’m actually stronger than you.
” That second part wasn’t necessary to say — it was a brag that was only partially true — but there was no stopping it when my mouth started running away from me.
“Would you like to wrestle to prove that?” Knox asked dryly. He put his hand behind my back, not quite touching but close, and swept out his other arm. “Come on. It’s only a few blocks. You can explain why you don’t need a chaperone the entire way.”
I glared at his profile.
He ignored me.
I started walking because it seemed like the path of least resistance.
All the while, I told myself this was a bad idea.
It was one thing when Charlie and Jack were there, at the same table, and Toni was only a few feet away.
Nothing could have propelled me to flirt with Knox under those circumstances. But when it was just the two of us … .
“Who’s your favorite superhero?” I asked. I was desperate to keep the conversation light and fluffy.
“Excuse me?” He almost tripped at the question. Good. That meant he was as nervous as I was.
Wait, that was a good thing, right? Suddenly, I wasn’t certain.
“We have a seven-minute walk in front of us. We have to pass it somehow.”
“I like how you’ve timed it down to the minute.” He grinned and shook his head. “Fine. I’m not much of a superhero guy. If I’m forced to choose, then I guess it’s Ironman.”
“In the movies or the comics?”
“Is there a difference?”
“According to Lex, absolutely.”
“Wait … Lex Cortland is a comic book guy?” Knox looked dubious.
It was only after he asked the question that I realized that I probably should have kept that to myself.
Knox’s smirk told me all I needed to know. “That’s … interesting. Do you and he go to superhero movies together?”
That was not where I saw this conversation going. “We don’t go to movies together. I guess maybe we did when we were teenagers, but that’s date activity and we don’t date.”
“Not ever?”
“No. It was never that way.” Why was he asking these questions? Why was he so fixated on Lex? This was the second time Knox had brought him up. “Lex’s family moved into my family’s house when I was a teenager.”
“That’s how you met?”
“Yes, well, my mother still hoped for a while that Holly would find her way home,” I explained. “She couldn’t live in that house — there were too many memories — but in case Holly managed to find her way home, she needed people to recognize her.”
Knox’s expression turned sad. “I get it.”
“So, my mom became friends with Lex’s mother.
She made sure they had a photo of Holly.
She would never go back to that house, but I went back.
At first, because I didn’t want to move.
That was my home. My parents were moving on to bigger and better things.
I didn’t want to, because … because … .” I couldn’t find the rest of the words.
“Because that was where your sister was,” he said in a soft voice.
I nodded, swallowing around the lump in my throat. “I didn’t realize at the time that she would always be in my heart. I thought my parents were leaving her behind. I was bitter for a bit, a handful of weeks … or months … or a year or two.”
That admission had his lips curving up. “Not you.”
I shrugged. “It took me a long time to understand why I no longer had the parents I’d grown up with. It took me even longer to realize they weren’t coming back.”
“Your sister’s disappearance changed your family forever. I’m sorry about that.”
I shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, when that couldn’t be the furthest thing from the truth. “I’ve learned to live with it.”
It wasn’t pity I saw in his eyes when I looked at him. It was … respect, and maybe a little something else I couldn’t name.
“Who’s your favorite superhero?” he asked, making me laugh.
“I’m supposed to say Wonder Woman, right?” I asked.
“I have no idea. This is not my milieu.”
“Not Wonder Woman. It’s The Incredible Hulk.”
“Why?”
“Because his superpower is anger. I spent a long time being angry, but it’s not a superpower. I like the idea of mastering it.”
“I see.”
“Also, he was green. Have you ever seen the old television show? It’s so hokey, and there’s no way Lou Ferrigno and Bill Bixby wore the same pants. But I can’t help but love it. My dad introduced me to the show about two years after Holly disappeared. It became our thing to watch it together.”
“Because he understood how angry you were?”
“Maybe, or maybe he just wanted us to have something to laugh about. There weren’t a lot of laughs to be found there for a few years.”
“What about now?”
I shrugged. “I guess you could say I’m a work in progress.”
“You’re a miracle is what you are, Freya. You just need to realize it.” He didn’t meet my eyes. We’d reached the corner across from my house. “I’ll wait here,” he said, still not looking at me. “I’ll make sure you get inside safely.”
I wanted to ask why he wasn’t finishing the walk, but I knew.
It was the same reason I didn’t want him to stand with me on my porch.
The more time we spent together, the more inevitable it felt that we might do something stupid.
Neither of us — especially me — were in a position to do anything of the sort.
“Thanks for walking me home.” I started across the street without looking back at him. “It wasn’t necessary. I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
“I know. That’s why it was necessary.”
I didn’t risk looking back until I was inside, safely separated from him by a heavy door. He was still at the corner, staring at my house. It had my breath clogging in my lungs and my heart pounding too fast.
What exactly were we doing? Whatever it was, it wasn’t smart. Not in the least.
I DREAMED OF THE AXEMAN. How could I not? He stalked me through the 9th Ward, a location I never dreamed about. Until now.
Knox was in the dream, too. He kept motioning for me to come to him without saying a word. I didn’t. I couldn’t. It was as if I was stuck in slow motion. No matter how hard I tried to run, I couldn’t make my muscles work.
The Axeman didn’t have a face. He was a shadow, one that taunted me and promised he would make sure I never found my sister. He got close enough to hit me with his axe a couple of times, but never followed through. He was all talk in the dream.
I woke feeling well-rested but antsy. It wasn’t fear of the Axeman. I knew that deep down, but did not allow myself to focus on the true source of my anxiety. Just thinking about Knox was too much.
Jack texted to meet him and Charlie for breakfast. I knew Charlie had picked the location — Jack seemed fine to follow her food whims — because she’d opted for the Stanley, which was right off Jackson Square.
It wasn’t the sort of diner fare I preferred, but I ate brunch there with Miles, Luc, and Peyton enough to appreciate the menu.
This time, I chose to be forthcoming with my praise for Charlie’s choice when I joined them at a table.
“The breakfasts here are great,” I enthused in a much brighter voice than I normally used. “Good choice.”
Rather than giggle and turn into a puddle of melted sugar, Charlie sent an accusatory look to her husband. “What did you say?” she demanded.
Jack sent me an exasperated look. “You’re a crap actress. How have you made it this far as a private detective when your acting skills are so limited?”
“I’m not that type of private detective,” I replied, dropping all pretense of putting on a good show for Charlie’s benefit. “I was trying to help her relax. So sorry for being sensitive. It won’t happen again.”
My response, even as over the top as it was, had Jack grinning. “That’s better.” He turned to Charlie. “You need to stop taking things so personally. We’ve been over this.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Charlie waved him off. “Tell me how you really feel about this place.”
This felt like a trap. I told her anyway. “I eat here at least once a month with my brother and his kids. He’s a bit stuffier than I am and loves this place. So do his kids, who are being raised to be a little bougie.”
“Huh.” Charlie tilted her head back and forth. “That was pretty honest. Basically, you’re saying that the bougie locals eat here, so I’m getting closer.”
“I’m saying stop excusing your choices,” I countered. “If you want to drink on Bourbon Street, then drink on Bourbon Street. If you want to eat at the tourist traps, go ahead. I still eat at McDonald’s, and I live in Creole central. Sometimes the heart wants what the heart wants.”
“Yeah.” Charlie pursed her lips. “What did your heart want last night?” she asked. “Did it want Knox? It certainly seemed so when you left together.”
My mouth fell open. She looked sweet and innocent, but was a devil in disguise. “Um … .” I glanced at Jack for help, but he was suddenly obsessed with his fingernails. “Unbelievable,” I muttered.
“That wasn’t an answer, but hold that thought.” Charlie beamed at the server as she approached our table. “You have frog legs on your menu for breakfast.” It wasn’t a question. “Does anyone ever order them?”
The server had probably heard that question or some variation no less than ten times a week. That was why she barely reacted. “Some people like frog legs.”
Charlie slid her eyes to Jack and didn’t say anything.
“You won’t like them,” Jack warned.