Chapter 9 #2
A weary sigh tears itself from my chest, but it speaks volumes that it doesn’t hurt to talk about Adam cheating on me.
It’s just annoying that I can’t move on and forget about him completely because of needing to repeat the story to everyone trying to be nice and show an interest in my life.
But that’s the price of making friends, isn’t it?
Sharing your damage and hoping your jagged pieces mesh with their own.
I fill him in on the whole ordeal, but surprise myself when I go past the highlights to venting.
“I was sick of being able to pack up my entire life at the drop of a hat, of keeping everyone at a distance so it wouldn’t hurt when I inevitably moved on.
It made me realize how empty my life really was, and that I have a habit of quitting the second things get hard. ”
Stumbling across the realization as I voice my feelings out loud, I meet Ledger’s piercing gaze and admit to myself as much as him, “I came here to build a life that would absolutely wreck me if I tried to leave it behind. To see what it was like to have something worth fighting for.”
The gold flecks in his eyes seem to flare brighter as he dips his head in respect. “That’s the dream, isn’t it?”
“Yeah… I think it is.” Turning back to my food, I feel a weight slip from my shoulders that I didn’t realize I was carrying.
A shiver runs down my spine a split-second before a familiar presence appears at my back.
Over the past few days, the ghost that came with my house and I have settled into a routine, communicating in our own way.
Gentle brushes across my skin for yes, a tap for no.
Hell, he moves things around the house; I know he’s capable of manipulating things.
So I really shouldn’t be surprised to see the lid on the salt shaker slowly unscrewing from the corner of my eye, and yet, my heart beats a little faster.
It’s one thing talking to ghosts when I’m at home and no one is around to call me crazy. But in front of my boss?
I wanted a new life here, but not one where I’m committed, thank you very much.
Ledger moves before I can stop him, the top popping off the salt and ruining the rest of his fries. “Damn.”
“Here,” I slide my plate in the middle of the table. “You gave me most of yours anyway, we can share what’s left.”
He pops one into his mouth, then pushes the plate back. “Nice try, but you need to eat. Don’t think I missed the fact you avoided my question earlier.”
I cringe, neither confirming nor denying. Ledger pulls out his phone. “Any allergies?”
“What?”
Glancing up from his screen, he raises an eyebrow. “Food allergies or dislikes, Ever. You can’t honestly think I’d send you back to an empty house. I’ll pick the order up on the way home from work and bring it over.”
His drink tips over in a flash, spilling onto his lap.
“I swear, I’m not usually this clumsy,” he says with a frown, grabbing a bunch of napkins to sop up the mess.
A cool pressure bands across my chest, and another on top of my head, like someone is wrapping an arm around me from behind and resting their chin on my head. While Ledger’s distracted, I shoot a glare over my shoulder in Casper’s general direction and mouth, “Knock it off.”
Ledger grabs another napkin and chuckles. “Thank goodness you decided this isn’t a date, or I’d seriously be embarrassing myself.”
I wave him off. “Not your fault, accidents happen to the best of us.”
“Says the woman that ran a man down and nearly took herself out walking into a doorway while reading,” he teases back, taking care of his trash.
When he sits back down, his nostrils flare, jaw clenching for a moment before a wolfish grin slowly curls his lips.
“If you aren’t going to tell me what kind of food you prefer, I’ll just have to stock you up on everything and swing by in a week to see what you haven’t touched. ”
The invisible band around my chest tightens, another thin tendril curling around my leg, and another stroking my arm restlessly, almost as if Casper’s… jealous. But that’s crazy.
You have a ghost stalking you, Ev. Crazy is so far behind us, we can’t even see it in the rearview mirror anymore.
Discreetly, I pat the invisible tendril banded around my thigh to offer Casper some reassurance.
I’m not exactly sure what his issue is, but if I had to take a stab at it, he’s very much not a fan of having company in the house.
I get that. It’s our safe space, and to him, Ledger’s an unknown. A threat.
It’s kind of sweet, actually.
“Full disclosure, I can’t cook for shit, so I tend to eat grab-and-go foods. If I want to sound good, I’d say jerky, fruits, and raw veggies, which I do love, but in all honesty, it tends to be instant noodles, pizza, and energy drinks.”
Rather than give me a well-deserved scowl, Ledger snorts. “The Myles diet, I’m familiar.” Tapping away on his phone, he continues, “Six sound good?”
“You really don’t need to buy me groceries.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” he simultaneously agrees and dismisses my protests. “Do you already have towels? I remember my first few days here and finding that one out the hard way.”
“Why would you buy me stuff? You’re my neighbor.”
He doesn’t even glance up from his phone, though I do clock the way his knuckles whiten around it. “The more you argue, the more things I add to cart, so feel free to keep it up.”
I press my lips together in a firm line, not sure where the hell to go from here.
Damned if I do, damned if I don’t. But if he’s determined to buy me groceries…
is that really the worst thing? Might sting my pride a little, but that’s only because I don’t want him looking at me like a charity case.
I’ve done far worse for much less, but I’m finally in a position where I'm not panicking about where my next meal is going to come from or if I can afford a new pair of jeans. Sure, I still have to stick to a budget until I get this console fine tuned and land a new contract, but I’m not losing any sleep wondering if someone else will be interested in my tech.
I know it’s a good product that will completely change the market.
So as soon as I have all my ducks in a row and that first check in the bank, I’ll take Ledger out for a fancy dinner.
Not as a date or anything. Just a friend returning the favor.
“Fine, have it your way.” I snag a fry, caving and accepting his generosity because I really am sick of eating TV dinners for every meal, yet have been procrastinating a store run as I keep finding new things around the house to add to my mile-long list. “I’m burned out on rehashing my pathetic life, though, so it’s your turn. What’s your story?”
He sighs. “You know how tiny shithole towns can be. Small minded, stubbornly set in their ways, and determined to be miserable, angry old fucks. Heaven forbid anyone has an idea of how to make things better, because ‘this is the way we’ve always done it,’ and ‘kids these days have no respect for their elders.’” He glances at me quickly before using his food as an excuse to avoid my gaze.
“My father is in charge of the town; a real mean bastard that cares more about lining his own pockets than the people he’s supposed to protect.
An avid believer in survival of the fittest, and never skipped an opportunity to remind me how much of a disappointment I was. ”
Giving up poking at his food, he pushes it away with a heavy sigh.
“Beat the hell out of me regularly and bragged about it. Thought he was ‘toughening me up,’ and everyone in town was too afraid of him to do anything about it. Most of the adults there believe how a man chooses to run his house is his business.” He flexes his hand, clenching and unclenching his fist.
“Except for Oscar,” I say softly.
Swallowing, Ledger gets ahold of himself and nods, finally meeting my gaze again and holding it.
“Only man I respect in that hellhole. Let me work there part time and paid me in cash until I saved up enough to run away. Hopped on a bus at sixteen and made my way here, then opened up the bookstore a decade later.”
My heart clenches picturing the man in front of me as an abused little boy that nobody stepped up to help.
It makes sense now why he’s so determined to make sure I have groceries and created a position just so he could offer me a job.
Ledger became the kind of person he desperately needed growing up.
I open my mouth to ask what about his mom, but based on the picture he’s painted, I can’t imagine a scenario where that has a happy ending.
If she’s not dead, she likely endured the same hell as him and he had to leave her behind, or was abusive as well.
Or she left him behind to save herself. If he didn’t mention her in his story, there has to be a reason.
And that’s when I finally see it; the same tattoo on his wrist as mine.
My heartbeat thunders in my ears, the scrawled words from my case file seared into my mind.
Signs allude to the tattoo on the infant’s wrist being a brand associated with a known human trafficking ring.
Burns indicate someone tried to remove the mark before leaving the child at the local fire station.
Please be advised, anyone claiming familial ties to the child MUST be thoroughly vetted before reunification due to these circumstances.
It doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots and read between the lines of Ledger’s story. ‘My father’s a mean bastard that cares more about lining his own pockets than the people he’s supposed to protect.’ My chest tightens at the thought of what Ledger must have endured before he ran away.
God, no wonder he’s so determined to make sure I’m okay.
Hesitantly, I brush my fingertips across the mark on his wrist, watching him from the corner of my eye. “Looks like we have the same tattoo.”
His breathing quickens. “Looks like it.”
We stare at each other for a weighted moment, neither of us willing to be the one to bring up the questions simmering beneath the surface.
I was lucky enough to escape that life as a baby, but it doesn’t sound like Ledger was.
If I try to assure him nothing happened to me, it’s forcing him to talk about it when he might not be ready.
The last thing I want to do is make him rehash horrific memories to appease my curiosity.
Even if he could tell me more about the horrible people my parents tried to sell me to, what would that change?
I don’t want to track down the monsters that gave birth to me just for closure of knowing if it was one of them or someone else that grew a conscience and dumped me at the fire station at the last minute.
And I’m not about to go on a vigilante quest to take down a human trafficking ring I escaped before anything worse happened than a tattoo and a burn scar.
“So how'd you end up with a roommate?” I ask instead, offering an unspoken olive branch.
A nostalgic smile erases the tension in his face.
“Ellis showed up at my door a few years ago and said Myles belonged with me, and that was that. Left him on my doorstep like an abandoned child instead of a college kid, but he was right. I thrive on taking care of people, and Myles sucks at keeping himself alive. It was kind of perfect, and we hit it off quickly.”
“I can’t wait to meet him.”
“Come over whenever you want, you’re always welcome. He tends to be a night owl though, so maybe we can make an evening of it. Have you over for dinner.” With a slow, seductive grin, he adds, “And the three of us can get to know each other better.”
The steady pressure I’d gradually relaxed into during Ledger’s story disappears so quickly, I nearly fall out of my chair.
By the time all four chair legs are back on the ground and I’ve shaved a year off my lifespan, Ledger is holding a wad of bloodstained napkins to the back of his hand and grinning like a fool.
“Oh my god, what happened?” Jumping to my feet, I grab a fresh stack of napkins and take over putting pressure on the wound.
“Just a scratch, no need to worry,” he says, but can’t hide the sparkle of amusement in his eyes. “If getting hurt is all it takes to get your attention though, you might have just created a monster.”
Carefully peeling back the napkins, I take a look at his wound, my heart dropping into my stomach like a lead balloon.
It’s not a scratch, it looks like someone stabbed a knife through Ledger’s hand to pin it into the table.
Following the invitation to his house for a dinner date, it doesn’t take a genius to piece together Casper’s warning; hands off.
Knocking over drinks and petty jealous shit is one thing, but stabbing someone?
If I piss him off, is he going to slit my throat in my sleep one day?
“You’re not freaking out,” I say slowly, studying Ledger closer now.
This isn’t a scratch someone might brush off assuming they caught themselves on a splinter or loose nail. Who the hell doesn’t freak out being stabbed on the best of days, but when there isn’t even someone there to fight? Let alone laughs it off?
“Not my first time being stabbed, and I highly doubt it’ll be my last,” he chuckles.
Ghostly tendrils hesitantly brush my arm, almost apologetically.
It offers me a little more confidence knowing he can buy me time to escape if this goes poorly, even if he’s on my shitlist right now for putting me in this position in the first place.
My need for answers far outweighs my fear of being ridiculed, though, so I decide to just put it all out there and let the chips fall where they may, praying that I’m not about to be run out of town with torches and pitchforks or locked up.
“You knew he was there the whole time, didn’t you? Were you just baiting him for a reaction by inviting me over to your house?”
“A little,” Ledger admits with a shameless grin.
“I had a hunch when all of the accidents happened right after I flirted with you. Honestly, I’m amazed he made it so long without taking a swing at me.
I can’t say I’d be able to watch you on a date with someone else and not drag you onto my lap within the first five minutes. ”
“So this sort of thing is… normal around here?”
His eyes widen, understanding dawning. “I’m not sure what it was like where you grew up, Ever, but yeah. Everyone in this town knows the supernatural exists.”
My vision darkens around the edges as his words echo in a loop in my mind. Nobody felt like mentioning that before I bought a fucking house here and accidentally adopted a ghost?
Everybody knows the supernatural exists. Sure. Of course.
Everyone but me.